Ode On A Grecian Chamber Pot

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Thou greasy unfuck'd hellhag of baldness,
Thou parasite of deafness and deathbed Dark Ages,
Scrubby Dryasdust, who canst thus vent
A fungoid humbug more pungently than our camouflage:
What frondescence—pubescenced prick sticks out like a sore thumb around thy carcass
Of fetishes or blushings, or of bisexual,
In Scapegoate or the cwms of Arcady?
What apewomen or fetishes are these? What she—devils vomyt?
What freaked out frisking? What rubber abutting gusher?
What orifices and ejaculationls? What incontinent jimjams?

Swelling passages are succulent, but those unswelling
Are juicier; ergo, ye lubricious organs, guggle forth;
Not abutting the animal knob, yet, cum buggerknob'd,
Gobble with no interval the spunk parts of slapstick ejaculation:
Shrivelled baggage, underneath the grenadiers, thou canst not knock off
Thy Gloria, nor ever can those grenadiers be bikini—clad;
Blaspheming Whore, never, never canst thou play footsie,
Though accepting a gratification in the presence of the foot — ere then, do not wriggle;
She cannot lose weight, though thou hast not thy feel—good factor,
For ever wilt thou be on heat, and she be shrivelled!

Ah, three sheets to the wind, drunk and disorderly suckers! that cannot excrete
Your exits, nor ever whack at the first cuckoo goodnight;
Cum, boozed up basso profundo, unwhacked,
For ever throating lays for ever uncut;
Cum flushed concubine! cum shouting, drunk cocquette!
For ever white—hot and drugged to be giv'n pleasure,
For ever being all of a doodah, and for ever raw;
All ejaculating bestial ravishment telescopic on stilts,
That leaves a pothole excretory—weepy and stuff'd
A volcanic pecker, and a scorching ejaculation.

Who are these wanking to the stations of the cross?
Intercommunicating what blunt candlestick, O weird priest,
Charm'st thou that nanny goat gobbling at the perpendicular lengths,
And all womanhood silken cocoons with busts cockt?
What soft bush uterine gush or gallows extremity,
Or sperm bank—cleavaged amidst voluptuous refuge,
Is sucked dry of this goth, this idolatrous rosy—fingered Dawn?
Cum, soft bush, thy quarterses for evermore
Will lubricated be; and not a creature to let the cat out of the bag
Why thou art so exhausted, can e'er boomerang.

O pungent skeleton! Juiceless bosom! with dreadlockes
Of knob castrati and yobbos foaming at the mouth,
With concrete chips off the old block and the beaten flat nincompoop;
Thou, well—greased carcass, dost sexually harass us unconscious of premenstrual tension
As doth ghost: dead as a dodo nude!
When drivelling dementia shall the blowjob swallow up,
Thou shalt stick it out to the bitter end, inside navel of peculiar pest
Than ours, a hobnobbed abutting game—cock to whom thou emit'st
"The body beautiful is no joke, gnome vital statistics — that is all
Ye fuck on the back of the corpse, and all ye lust to fuck".

Copyright © Irma Cerrutti 2010

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  • COMMENTS
1 Comments
SweetOblivionSweetOblivionabout 13 years ago
Nice shameless bawdiness

Bukowski, Ovid and Villon would applaud you, as do I. SO.