POETRY PORN: [CUNT’SERVE-ATIVE]

POEM/RAP

A-still-from-Legion-001

A freshly sexed wreckage,

Fresh from lying with the wine of a timing pecked peckage.

Pink faced, bodily tasted, wasted.

Guilty pleasure fill my hole,

Sodom stole chances to live that role.

The one we’ve placed on a plinth and dedicate symphonies for,

Yet swap sexes and watch them beat you to the floor.

The confusion across their faces,

Makes me wish to change places with these conservative racists.

Stating ideals like ready meals,

Only edible by those with no frills limited skill sets,

Flick decks of cards,

Pissing away the lives of fellows.

It’s fine we’ll get our own cellos and stroke resin strings,

Drowning in our last moments singing while the titanic sinks.

A capsizing culture fears and moans,

A million groans all saying “ET phone home”.

Sister Transister, Sissy Mister,

Show me your blisters.

You’ve walked so far and I see your scars as do the stars,

But with a city glow a stars impact is low and the message blurred.

The ointment is stirred and twisted until the expectation to become complicit is fucking explicit.

Brother alien touch my skin,

I need to feel your connection within.

Departed avatars seeking pastures new.

A million drained brains straining to sustain an openness for change.

Together exchanging tips and tricks over sips and wishes,

You do the cooking and I’ll do the dishes.

Stealing real moments back.

Vinyl sounds with all the cracks,

Sick tracks with house jacks.

Steamy black pits,

Rubbing past your tits and feeling your arms,

The walls of this club dripping with tactilities charms.

In the morning a self amends,

A long walk along the thames interrupted by an insta-lens.

I’m confused by this new definition of friends.

We don’t buy your bullshit or lies,

We intellectuals free from societies ties.

There’s no surprise in the uprising prising open ribcages and finding shattered tarts,

Weeping hearts splintered with darts bigger than the Shards unfinished broken parts.

This is it you insolent shit,

You bloody minded, selfish, unchanging faux-brit.

You care not for human worth.

You care not for for fun.

So we wage war with verbal gun!

Written by Ted Rogers “Artpornblog”

xXx

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