(1)
A Polack whose arse was quite spotty
Found a boil had formed up his botty;
So he took his sore crack
To a fat Warsaw quack
Who lanced it for two thousand zloty.

(2)
In a dirty old hut by the Vistula
Lived an old maid, whose name was Miss Tyula
Whilst out for a ramble
She sat on a bramble
Which punctured her ripe anal fistula.

Horatio lay on the deck,
His body was a total wreck;
A musket shot had laid him low;
He was good and ready, set to go.
But Hardy was just passing by
And he caught the Admiral's eye
"Oy Hardy! Howza bout a snog?"
Shouted that randy old sea dog.
And when Hardy stooped to check
At Nelson lying on the deck,
The admiral groped Hardy's cute left bun
And then slipped him his lordly tongue.
Thus was Trafalgar won that day
With a kiss O so very gay.

The pain, it shoots me like a bullet,
Takes me to the ground
Makes me cry in oblivious shame,
But still it makes no sound
I know through all the loudest screams
Bravery is the thing I need
Shot's been fired, a downward spiral
And the fallen body's no good deed.

This is where it happens
Bring your dark and dreary stuff
We don't want your hearts and flowers
Your kisses and your fluff

We want pain and heartbreak
Bloody knives and gore
We'll take your fondest nightmares
The stuff behind that door!

So come on, bring it all
Don't hold back this time
We don't care if it's sick
Free verse or in rhyme

Nine PM this Saturday
Hope to see you there
Come to Chat on the Darkside
It's dark stuff we can share!

My Time isn’t up friends
as I stand at the cliff’s end
cool breeze slaps my face it says
what in hell are you thinking
your time is up
jump off the cliff
your life’s end ‘tis

then a hurricane came
it asked
should you need a greater force
just ask me
it also passed away

there I stood in the midst
of the universe
undecided which way

I turned my back
to the call of death
to myself I did say

The sun, a glorious orb of burning gold
Casts its radiant life-promoting light
Upon the fertile land below, and
Long, darkling, deep'ning shadows makes.

The furrows of the ploughman's toil grim dim
And (as the sun follows its long, steep path
To that distant horizon where earth and sky do kiss)
Merge into vague, indiscriminate brownness.

Atop the hills, aglow with ruddy Abendslicht,
Sunburned autumnal copses reflect
A hundred, hundred subtle shades
Of green and brown and yellow tints.

my mind is like a roller coaster
that continuously falls off the tracks.
or a train that runs for miles and miles
upon broken breaks and never stops,
transversing between unstable rails that will stab you in the back.
if you have ever observed time go by while trapped behind the wagons' glass casement,
then you've noticed the scene always changes,
like a mask is lifted from this planet
and dissipates outside our atmosphere.
purely it all becomes as clear as crystalline,

We walk along the beach at night,
Arms entwined and hearts entwined,
Waves lapping 'gainst our feet,
Pebbles scurrying like sand crabs 'twixt our toes.
And talking about crabs, we are both
A little tickly in the naughty bits department,
As the gentle summer breeze
Wafts through our matted pubic hairs.

If any
is
Sun

it ignites and flames
and does every one
burn
then
finally
churn

Twitter, twitter little birdie
Fly so high while you still can
Before they take away your toys
Make you grow up, act the man

Spin it, lie and tell half-truths
Make each story all about you
Poor me, you see, "I didn't know"
No matter what, it's what you do

Daddy's boy can't take rejection
He wants them all to love him so
Despots, tyrants and ruling kings
He'll kiss their ass, make a show