Wicked Verse for Grown Up Kids
A DEAR FRIEND You tell me of your love life, Your heartache and your woes, But somehow I'm fixated With the spot upon your nose.
You spend your nights lamenting Your husband's sad affair, But I just want to squeeze it, And battle not to stare.
The urge is overwhelming, I reach towards your face, But you misunderstand me, And grab me to embrace.
“You're such a dear friend to me, To listen when I'm hurt…” Your nose has hit my shoulder. The spot bursts on my shirt.
THE INTERVIEW An interview At ten, and hell, My nerves are shot I feel unwell I enter the lift I press tenth floor My tummy growls Then rumbles, roars, One lets rip I glance around No-one here We just left ground, Could I choke From my own Before I reach The nearest throne? But as I relax To enjoy my sin The lift doors open A man walks in. He moves to the back He nods hello But as he inhales I see his eyes grow. He knew that I knew That he knew I knew No rescue But thank god No follow through. Infinite minutes I stare at the doors I look at the walls, My feet and the floors. Eight more floors Not a word said I feel his eyes Burn the back of my head. The air in here Could peel dried paint Or maybe cause A child to faint Time is eternal I’m shamefaced red I pray the smell Just knocks him dead. Tenth floor stop I make to leave, Are you Miss Jones? He grabs my sleeve. May I say Before our session You’ve made upon me Some impression.
THE KISS I met you At dinner Twas love At first sight. At least So I thought Till you kissed Me that night. Your tongue Was the tail Of a lizard Gone mad, Probing My teeth For the chicken I’d had. I tried not to Choke on Your dribble And kissing, You hoovered My face And my filling Is missing. Please stop That wiggling Lizard tailed Robber And give back My chicken My fillings And slobber.
TO A VEGETARIAN Mary had a little lamb, She plundered its hind quarter, And bandaged its remaining stump, To save it from the slaughter. As it grazes on three legs, It gives a happy sigh, Knowing Mary and her friends Will feast upon its thigh. Once a frolicking teenage sheep, With healthy long brown dags, It’s now a crippled creature, With leg in blood soaked rags. Pray thanks to Mary’s little lamb, It’s hip now in a splint, We masticate its severed flesh With spuds and peas and mint.
A WINE CONNOSIEUR Is this the wine you brought tonight? Why thank you, Mr. Jones, I hope for depth of blueberry, And rounded floral tones.
Miss G, I brought a Neuf du Pape A vintage ’83, A princely sum but worth it for Your dinner date with me.
A little spotty on the nose, Intense in its bouquet, A cleft lip on my palate, A playful grape, I’d say.
And Mr. Jones, those layered plays Are oaked in wooded kiss, Aroma of incontinence, It tastes like horse’s p*ss.
ETIQUETTE ON MEETING NEW PARENTS You mustn’t call the baby “it” And when it starts to cry Don’t laugh and tell the parents They can kiss their lives goodbye.
Remember it is politic To hold their little gem Right way up, say something nice It means a lot to them
When you hold their newborn babe Don’t forget to coo We know one end is sticky sick The other end is poo.
Its not like it’s a puppy Or a fluffy baby kitten Its bald and wet and screaming So why are they so smitten?
You will have your own one day When love will show to you How much your parents really loved A wretched brat like you.
PANTS Low pants high pants Granny down-to-thigh pants On with pants off with pants Hooker's happy ankle pants.
Big pants little pants Panty lines so visible Loose pants tight pants Butt cheeks indivisible.
Sticky dribble padded pants Think-I-wet-my-pants dance Crunchy five day old pants Fly-by-seat-of-pants chance.
G-strings stinky things Come-on-boys-its-here pants Itsy bitsy patch pants Token what's-the-point pants.
Fluffy pants feather pants Hide a pluckered chicken pants Never worn but hoping pants Great anticipation pants.
Clean pants dirty pants Breaking wind with gravy Pants for vindaloo night Reserved for pants in navy.
Hipster builder's bum pants Crack a sneaky looky Holy Bridget Jones pants Not expecting nooky.
Cotton marks and spencers pants Nice but naughty white Is strangely what the hubby likes I'm wearing those tonight.
THE TALE OF ED You heard the tragic tale of Ed? Born a mutant in a shed, No limbs or torso, just a head, An inbred lad from Birkinhead.
He fell in love and asked to wed, A bi-ped lass from Givas Head, He’d win her heart, it had been said, If he could walk her to the bed.
Day and night he’d work frenetic, Saving up for his prosthetic, While maybe just a tad cosmetic, Twas romantic .... and poetic.
With cash for arms, he went ahead, And now half way to quadri-ped, He painted them bright racing red, And built his strength with hard phys ed.
He worked for funds to go ahead, And buy some legs, but then instead, He bought a skateboard which he sped, And rolled into a riverbed.The board was old, the tires shred, His marriage now a watershed, Some say quit while you’re a head, But I say, hey dude, get new tread!