I have fucked your mum while we were in your bedroom and while you were probably shopping for Mother's Day Forgive me she was delicious so sweet and so old
"You are old, Mother Mary," the young man said, "You are barely one step from the tomb. And yet all my friend come around just to fuck you. Do you think you could use your own room?"
I saw the plums, they looked a bit Moldy, and around the pit There seemed to be some kind of bugs Wetas crawling, or maybe just the drugs
The Blackberries were what I chose to eat They were perfect, rich and sweet I used the last of the half and half But then I pissed in the carton for a laugh...
"You are old, Mother Mary," the young man said, "As I earlier ventured to say. Yet you frequently feature on MILF-of-the-Week; You even shagged Billy, who's gay."
"In my youth," said his mother, "I flatted with friends, And often I pilfered their plums. The fructose I swallowed has rotted my teeth, But given me soft supple gums."
I wondered lonely at a plum That sits in icebox here and chills, When all at once I must succumb, and eat your breakfast if it kills; I'm sorry, dear; I left a note, a half apology, half gloat.
There once was a person with fruit A poet thought he'd have a hoot By eating those plums Leaving nothing but crumbs And that's why I'm writing this noot.
Whose plums these are I think I know.
ReplyDeleteShe's shopping in the village though;
She will not see me stopping here
To eat her breakfast icebox sloe.
Ah. It's recursive. And googlursive.
ReplyDeleteKinda like an acronym like BNB that stands for Bubba's not Bubbalicious.
Recursive.
Gonna go stir the Bernaise now...
mikey
I notice
ReplyDeleteyou corrected your typo
in this, the vault copy
Grammar zombie Police
issues warning
straighten the fuck up
or we will send Grannies to Stomp your Eyebrows
Oh, right. Thanks for the reminder.
ReplyDeleteFixed!
ReplyDeleteI think that I will never eat
ReplyDeleteA plum as flavourful as meat.
"You are old, Mother Mary," the young man said,
ReplyDelete"You are barely one step from the tomb.
And yet all my friend come around just to fuck you.
Do you think you could use your own room?"
I saw the best plums in refrigeration consumed with gladness, starving roommates naked,
ReplyDeletedragging themselves through the laden fridge at dawn looking for a breakfast fix
I saw the plums, they looked a bit
ReplyDeleteMoldy, and around the pit
There seemed to be some kind of bugs
Wetas crawling, or maybe just the drugs
The Blackberries were what I chose to eat
They were perfect, rich and sweet
I used the last of the half and half
But then I pissed in the carton for a laugh...
Do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do
ReplyDeleteDo, do, do, do, do, do, do
Do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do
Do, do, do, do, do, do, do
I was made for lovin you Granny
You were made for lovin me
And I cant get enough of you Granny
Can you get enough of me???
As el capcha would say "Puncho"
The Blackberries were what I chose to eat
ReplyDeleteDid they blend?
Also, PARPH.
"You are old, Mother Mary," the young man said,
ReplyDelete"As I earlier ventured to say.
Yet you frequently feature on MILF-of-the-Week;
You even shagged Billy, who's gay."
"In my youth," said his mother, "I flatted with friends,
And often I pilfered their plums.
The fructose I swallowed has rotted my teeth,
But given me soft supple gums."
I wondered lonely at a plum
ReplyDeleteThat sits in icebox here and chills,
When all at once I must succumb,
and eat your breakfast if it kills;
I'm sorry, dear; I left a note,
a half apology, half gloat.
Oh you can't bounce a meatball
ReplyDeleteSo try with all your might
Turn on the radio
Your plums took just three bites
Those were nice plums
ReplyDeleteI wonder who owned them
Now they are gone
There once was a person with fruit
ReplyDeleteA poet thought he'd have a hoot
By eating those plums
Leaving nothing but crumbs
And that's why I'm writing this noot.