Thursday, 2 September 2010

n

planet earth comes to me
as i rest on my couch,
applying for tesco
applying for greggs
mammals laying eggs
marsupials in the head
touch em now your dead
growing in the shed
penis in the pants, ants, oh
plants and hand stands
the order of the day,
funded, of course,
by the tax-payer (paedophile layer)

so, now
this is life, laid bleak and bare
on the couch
in the tub
on the bowl
over there --> poetry from the oft
repeated 'poet tree' - falling with the season,
eating all the fruit and
spitting pips through the box
and into the face of the deserving post
man, oh man, that guy's a cunt:

eating my mail
waking me up
sucking my pips through the holes
in his face
penis on a plate
its penis on a plate
wenis a la mate
remis is too late

quick quick quick
its time to chop down
the poet tree, spitting poems around the poets,
see?

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