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Song Beside A Sippy Cup

In the never truly ever
truly dark dark night, ever
blinds-zipped, slat-cut,
dark-parked light,
you (late) touch my toes
with your broad flat own
horny-nailed cold toes.
Clock-tock, wake-shock.

In the ever truly never
truly long long night, our
little snoring-snarling
wild-child mild-child
starling-darling wakes every
two, three (you-sleep) hours,
in the never truly ever
truly lawn brawn fawn dawn.

poem by Jenny Factor
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The Beach

Louder than gulls the little children scream
Whom fathers haul into the jovial foam;
But others fearlessly rush in, breast high,
Laughing the salty water from their mouthes--
Heroes of the nursery.

The horny boatman, who has seen whales
And flying fishes, who has sailed as far
As Demerara and the Ivory Coast,
Will warn them, when they crowd to hear his tales,
That every ocean smells of tar.

poem by Robert Graves
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I Peep on You

I peep on you
When you say
You don’t love me
I saw your rose pulps

I peep on you
I saw you rested your love
On the bowl

I peep on you
I saw your barbaric tits waving
Water dripping from there
Right to your squirrel

I peep on you
I saw your squirrel
Wet but breathing
Seems like in hunger
For partner

[...] Read more

poem by Sulaiman Mohd Yusof
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World go round

I believe that Love makes the world go round,
said the young man.

I believe that Money makes the world go round,
said the rich man.

I believe that Happiness makes the world go round,
said the holy man.

I believe that Sex makes the world go round,
said the horny man.

I believe that intellagence makes the world go round,
said the smart man.

I believe that the world goes round,
despite the man.

poem by Black Rabbit
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I Get Pleasure

I get pleasure
Becomes angry
And horny too
By the ideas
Conceived
By me at work
Or leisure
Give me a pen
And paper
As I have to
Ejaculate
In black and white
On the face
Of the earth
Experiences
The beauty
The truth
Moulded
In my heart
And turned

[...] Read more

poem by Abdul Wahab
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The lame Gypsy Snake charmer

In a hot sunny day at a market place
He bends and shakes his weak leg
While blowing the horny pipe.
Then the snake aims at his knee
And it transforms into a dance for the onlookers.
He never seen an egg since his childhood
But he hides an egg everyday for his bread-winner.
Though it's venomous they live together in harmony
And their living seems to be an exemplary for those who grin angrily at each other for nothing.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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To The Poet Whose Poems We Should Not Have Read

i anticipated something horny
all i have was thorny

i was excited about the title
but up to there only because the
whole body was ugly

i promise myself i will not read
any of his work again
but i must be stupid for i fall
on the same mistake again

it's alright, we are fools somehow
asking ourselves what do we gonna do
to make his quit?

to survive i must be numb
to be more stupid this time
then i will be number one.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Love Is.............................

Love is desire,
Love is on fire,
Love is my word,
Love is to hold,
Love is my sin,
Love is my dream.
Love is lust,
Love is my truth,
Love is my journey,
Love makes me horny,
Love is on me,
Love is what you see,
Love teach me how,
Love takes a bow,
Love never dies,
Love is a surprise,
Love take care of you,
Love is true,
Love is my faith,
Love is great,

[...] Read more

poem by Gianni Pintus
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Fragment. Where's The Poet?

Where's the Poet? show him! show him,
Muses nine! that I may know him.
'Tis the man who with a man
Is an equal, be he King,
Or poorest of the beggar-clan
Or any other wonderous thing
A man may be 'twixt ape and Plato;
'Tis the man who with a bird,
Wren or Eagle, finds his way to
All its instincts; he hath heard
The Lion's roaring, and can tell
What his horny throat expresseth,
And to him the Tiger's yell
Come articulate and presseth
Or his ear like mother-tongue.

poem by John Keats
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Where's the Poet?

Where's the Poet? show him! show him,
Muses nine! that I may know him.
'Tis the man who with a man
Is an equal, be he King,
Or poorest of the beggar-clan
Or any other wonderous thing
A man may be 'twixt ape and Plato;
'Tis the man who with a bird,
Wren or Eagle, finds his way to
All its instincts; he hath heard
The Lion's roaring, and can tell
What his horny throat expresseth,
And to him the Tiger's yell
Come articulate and presseth
Or his ear like mother-tongue.

poem by John Keats
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