Piles of Love
She always likes her fudge tunnel entered
Pounding away on the toffee centre
Friction and stretching over the years
Got her walking like a female John Wayne
Sore as hell the grapes of wrath
Transformed to the grape of love
Preparation H to the rescue
Forcing a retreat of those tender love apples
For us a time for Piles of love
©Martin Hickman 2013
The Break Out
Red face, Wide Eyed, sweat running down
your face
You sit with wide eyed terror
Sat on your throne that’s usually
your place of contemplation
Now it’s turned into your Torturous
place of constipation
You are as one with the escapee
Your mind saying, willing yes time to
be free.
But you have a bastard of a prison
guard
Your sphincter of solitary confinement
just won’t let go
Like an oversized Birth, your escapee
stretched you
Involuntary sounds of a lunatic come
from your mouth
Finally it gives in to the struggle
your fellowship of the ring as raw
As raw, as a blast from ball on winters
morning
Out of repulsive curiosity you look to
see what’s escaped
It reminds you of a large Havana Cigar
It almost looks as relieved as you
Alcatraz has Nothing on this Break out
©Martin
Hickman, February 2014
No comments:
Post a Comment