Tag Archives: poetry

The Plenipotentiary

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18th century apparently saw the birth of a lewd seaman who juggled his oars with some touching verse-manufacturing. This raunchy personality who went by the name of Captain Charles Morris was sought among others, by the sexiest clowns of the day and King George IV of le Britannia. Between 1744 and 1838 the captain carved some highly titillating exhibits, an instance of which is provided herewith for your savoring.

The Dey of Algiers, when afraid of his ears,
A messenger sent to the Court, sir,
As he knew in our state the women had weight,
He chose one well hung for the sport, sir.
He searched the Divan till he found out a man,
Whose ballocks were heavy and hairy,
And he lately came, o’er from the Barbary shore,
As the great Plenipotentiary.

When to England he came, with his torch all aflame,
He shewed it his Hostess on landing, 
Who spread its renown thro’ all parts of the town, 
As a pintle past all understanding.
So much there was said of its snout and its head, 
That they called it the great Janissary:
Not a lady could sleep till she got a sly peep
At the great Plenipotentiary.

As he rode in the coach, how the whores did approach,
And stared as if stretched on a tenter;
He drew every eye of the dames who passed by,
Like the sun to its wonderful centre;
As he passed thru the town, not a window was down,
And the maids hurried out to the area,
The children cried- Look! there’s the man with the crook,
That’s the great Plentipotentiary.

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Our Colourful Sexual Camaraderie

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Min-min-min-min
A child steps on a pussy
Squirting it like orange juice
STD! STD!, doctors proclaim
And hand over a cellular phone
Texts back and forth
Your brain’s the most powerful sex.
Min-min-min-min
There’s no rain over a roof of tin
Li’l men ask, ki? ki? kiiiiii?
Khi khi khi
Shut them up, kiss on the lips
Now, you pedophile!
Routine, poutine, a shallow teen
Will lie next, a consenting adult.
Min-min-min-min
What if you replace a heart for a dick
Pumping blood into every mouth
That unwaringly licks
What if sex is forthright, straight
Without uh…all the uncertain wait
Argh, impatience, impatience! bang-bang
Make for an awful poem.