Poetry is my Penis
I sport fuck, stick it to a slow jam, jack rabbit quick slap slam, and
make love in marriage to this language.
I piss grammatical errors. My poet-cock
spurts rhymes in a jizzy jazzy meter.
I punch my pudendum into a frothy
ejaculation of theme. I become aroused. My loins
cannot be soused by prose. Ohhhh, no.
I shall stay erect as an L while the crotch of language is
steaming and open. I must throw my hot dog words
down the large lingual hallway.
Oh my beautiful language, how your victim vagina
has been vandalized. You have been a pavement princess for Presidents' tongues.
Your bleeding ability has been stuffed with tampons on the boxes of sanitary napkins.
Your weight loss has been mocked by unsightly cellulite and unnecessary body fat.
Ohh my beautiful language, even though your labia
drag on the ground with abuse, I still lust
to fuck you. I will not give you anymore STD's. I
will wear my critical condom, so I cannot spread your AIDS
to others.
Ohhhh dear, dear, beautiful language, I know sometimes
you will be dry, but my foreplay shall moisten
your syllables, and if not, I have lube.
Ahhhhh yes, language. We shall have a simultaneous orgasm one day.
Sent as a joke to poetry.com
