for a walk
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for a walk
pulled pepperoni tastes
From her cheesy
belly button wotsits
old and soggy
fluff and grease
under the foreskin
hanging out-of her
bag of nuts
Explodes over floor
before her majesty
Thora the third
scratched her arse
on sir rodger's
Tepid turgent tiller
scraping the excreta
around the rim
Of king Roger
riddled-with faecal incontinence
Was well shitfaced
going through-the motions
In the pan
with skittered knickers
That wont flush
round the bend
maddening the crowd
blocking the drains
with their bulkiness
and vociferous echo
as the gusset
painfully ensnared his
meat and veg
with her spork
cleaved but n'cloven
Perforated, not butchered
feral lunar worshipper
on gossamer wings
moths and butterflies
silence of lambs
big bad wolf
rubs the lotion
on her hood
shine it hard
like melted lard
keeping it hard
like northern geezers
with tattooed testicles
hung round neck
like netted footballs
except for Sunderland