Breaking my latest(yaaaaaaaaawn) blog embargo for a second time here because … … … … … ahhh sheeeeyurrrrt … I got nuthin … guess I’m just bored off my tits and fancied sharing this latest abomination with all you good folk up there at Bloggington-on-Sea.
Does a blogger of my social standing even NEED a justification?
I think NOT!
ARE WE NOT MEEEEEEN ?????
Sorry, that was inappropriate. I can see that now.
Now if you happen to be a man of priestly pretensions, or sex-averse or perturbed by horrid boys spouting cuss words, then I would strongly advise you to put down that mouse immediately, and step away from the blog. Because there is nothing for you to to see here.
If you’re a winner like me though, or you’re just feeling saucy(yes I’m talking to you Grandma!) then take a swift slug of gin from that secret hip flask, and brace yourself for my latest disservice to poetry.
(Keats – if you’re there, browsing from Heaven, I’m SOOOOOO sorry – this isn’t the real me, you know that buddy – I just do this for them, it’s all they understand)
Right, start the engine Tumbleweed, and keep your foot on the gas …
Same old tricks to rouse your dicks,
sold online to get more clicks,
plastic carrots placed on sticks,
Pavlov’s dog can’t learn new tricks.
Latex corsets, boots and whips,
swirling ink above the hips,
doe-like eyes and pouting lips,
feeding lust in measured drips.
All seduction, zero fucks,
buttons pressed to make some bucks,
painted bread can’t feed your ducks,
fake flirtation kinda sucks.