It’s true I thought you were asleep
but I had promises to keep.
Good friends dropped in for a small sample
of vinto tinto (I have ample)
then came the witchety (a grub)
cured after a good garlic rub
and bunya pine on open fire
the spouse was wearing Biedermeier.
We like exotic things to eat
and drink Potato Vodka neat
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He could not stop.
in busy Lake Tahoewas an attractionthat would nevergo away from him.The farm was gone,the kiddies out ofPrivate School, so what,the wife needs teeth,she is genetically…and thus at fault,inferior and in needof some strong language,who gives a flying,it ain’t my job to please.Cause, after all, I knowthat I will, in the endbe Paul the Reaperfor the…
I’m going to paint my toes today
Should the sand find the paint it will surely stickwho would try to take off every grain with a pick?So my toes will be dark, like in gunmetal blueand I’ll post a small photomontage to you,By the way, I have found that all painted toesmay be written about in cute rhyme or in prose,though I…
He was enthralled,
and to her heart,could not explain it thoughin simple human speak.They’d met, somewhat by chance,and nodded, as if in unison,she took his handsand planted a moist kissright onto doubtful lips,she tied his hands or so it seemedbehind her back,and let his fingertips descendto her delicious creasewhile pressing forwardgently with her loins,he felt her cheekshe’d be…
A lady who loved her adventures
She was chased by a beedislocated her knee,hit the ground and lost both of her dentures.
And once upon another time,
settled their minordisagreements overthe shameless animal,you know,the one with the long fur,the pretentious lips,the bad ears,the poor sense of smell,and the very long horns,whichsame animal had,not only returned to thescene of the explosion,but had had the temerityand the poor taste,the even poorer smell,to leave, at last,by turning its less thanappetisingbackside on us,and revealing,perhaps intentionally,an abominably…
With only a bouquet
in the Sicilian vase,he wept alone,next to his bottle,unopened, yet.A chill as company.There was no memoryof having cried,as women say,your eyes out,ever.‘Til now.The doctor had,rushed and dishevelled,clipboard in hand,thrown accusationsand poison arrowsat his chest.To let him know,third-party like,what had beenso unfortunatelydiagnosed today.He staggered outat last,the corridor was misty.Fickle spiritssaw him home,and left him there,to his…