Don’t be speechless, girl. Not only tennis balls and peaches Are split down the middle, Covered with fur, furled Or unfurled, whacked at With rackets, eaten when most
Ripe, juicy and sweet, gorgeous As moss on a burl, rainbow mist On a pearl, though smut and elegies From the heart–-that angel Of Apollo, Luciano Pavarotti, Is dead–-will never rule the world.
7 comments:
I abort away this blasp with sexy farts
FILTHY GOOSE
I'll hook my arms beneath your knees
And snuffle your fur until I sneeze,
Then lick and look at it, long as I please,
That wild rat of my secret dreams.
Speechless! For once I am speechless!
NUDITY IN THE BLOG
Let us all be semi-pseudonymous,
Everything so novel and fun,
Our nude magnolias of the mind,
When one is mostly anonymous.
SORROW
Don’t be speechless, girl.
Not only tennis balls and peaches
Are split down the middle,
Covered with fur, furled
Or unfurled, whacked at
With rackets, eaten when most
Ripe, juicy and sweet, gorgeous
As moss on a burl, rainbow mist
On a pearl, though smut and elegies
From the heart–-that angel
Of Apollo, Luciano Pavarotti,
Is dead–-will never rule the world.
Mom? Is that you?
YIELDING TO PRESSURE
She married a dentist who feared
Vagina dentata–-“So there!”
Cried his wife when she finally
Seduced him, “Did you find
Any teeth?” “No,” he said,
Cleared his throat and relaxed
On his pillow, “not with
The condition of those gums.”
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