Poetry From the Other End of Experience
Rip Mangle Pop
Sounds I like alot
The coffin shows rot
Snap Mangle Pop
Snap Mangle Plop
The body goes keplunk
Flipped from its resting spot
Rip Mangle Plop
Rip Mangle Pop
It’s time take the top
While weakened bones get bopped
Snap Mangle Pop
Rip Mangle Pop
The sounds I like alot
Old bones now show their rot
Rip Mangle Bop
I wondered horny down Third Street
that crawls with freaks, trash and pills.
Then at one time I saw a herd,
a group of walking painted girls.
Beneath the moon and beside the street
Pandering and waving at male beasts.
A multitude parading by
trimmed out with lace and fluffy fur
That stretch to conceal nothing at all
along the nipples edge a blur.
Red fishnet stockings by the score
and feathered boas even more.
The johns beside them flashed cash
which brought sparkling smiles of glee
Aroused were they all by their wants
Be it sex or some money.
I gazed and gazed while some came by
In hopes they would catch my eye
For all on this street I move
the boas their throats do hide
I need to see Adams fruit
to know how much the costumes lie
To know if undies hide much more
For I have been down this road before
For oft when on my bed I lie
in twosomes or a larger group
I sometimes take honeyed guys
So long as they don’t dupe
Then my life with pleasures fill
For even males are painted girls
My Virginal Bride, once blood splattered sheets
Ignorant of fleshed fueled, dirty deeds
Accepting the role as teacher and guide
I”d pull her down hard this dangerous slide
We started slow- lotions, false pricks
then tried to act out wild fetish flicks
She took to my teachings quickly with zeal
All things perverse became her appeal
She soon became master when she brought home a goat
And let’s not discuss what she put down her throat
My body was punished in wild crazy forms
While twisting and implants became the norm
Each day she went further; I only knew dread
I was tired of chickens, living and dead
Ten different ways to use a vacuum?
But, Baby, please leave the plunger in bathroom
Please, baby, please, don’t do this thing
To hell what you read in that magazine
My body is racked by pain and by gloom
But, Baby, please leave the plunger in bathroom