That wasn’t me…
I woulda responded in verse.
Differences between Rasa and I are easy to see.
Though neither of us carries a purse.
Holy non sequitur, Batman!!
Sua
I know I wasn’t invited, but I can’t resist poetry!!
So oldie, how serious is it between you and ender anyway? Does Rasa get jealous? Does ender propose things even you have not thought of?
Ah, here’s a poem, or close to one…
In the unrelenting search for truth
Many stories can be found
Some have given up their youth
Some have found treasures abound
Check you calendar and see
If you can spare a moments time
You won’t feel bad listening to me
By the time you finish with this rhyme
It’s a tale of devilishly handsome men
It’s a tale of wildly slinky lasses
See them as they drink Champaign
And innocently clink their glasses
Then the urge to mix the drink with more
Than just simple salutations
And the exploration, uncovering of lore
Brings new, unexplored temptations
Nothing seems important at the moment
Other than the other they are with
And begins a new chapter, a sonnet
To discover what is fact or myth
If he dares to touch her she will tremble
If she dares to look he will impress
If they both could they would gamble
But they still can’t get far past her dress
Once the night sets in the dark is master
There’s not much they should fear after dark
Inhibitions, fading fast and faster
Disappear like pigeons from the park
One more bubbly, one more shot of something
To remove the last remaining doubts
One more look outside the open window
To spot one more thing to talk about
The temptations now intense, and
Mother’s words ‘Remember, it’s a sin’
Should they stop, sit up, and watch the movie?
Should they do what nature begs, and just give in?
As the sun is rising, and they wake
As they see each other in the morning light
One is thinking ‘yes, my dreams came true’
And the other, ‘who can I go out with tonight?’
For college bound, Ender, was a fool to see a field,
His armpits damp, his scalp was dry, his butt skin was well peeled,
f’absoul bought and sold as much in part and in due pie,
he chomped upon the whuthering and drank upon the rye,
He brought along his monkey whether beast or anatomy,
we might must neeber know, and hopefully never see
Monkey glanced at Ender and inquired “oh dear my! ook!”.
Ender responded in simple kind. “you silly silly cook,
I’ll eat and drink what pleaseth me,
I’ll fuck the filthy ground,
I’ll spite my face by cooking my cock,
and spread my pooze around.”
Monkey didn’t take to this and boxed him bout the ears,
a culmination of years of misery and his myriad fears.
“Ouch!” said Ender easily, and aussily as well,
for though he lives in Kansas, in Oz he’d like to dwell.
Wellforsuchmuch kindly sir. Wellforsuchmuch pray.
If I whacked my squirrel, would you run away?
In his quest for knowledge (of what, you don’t wanna know)
Ender searched rough and ride, and cleared away the snow,
he visited many places, and heated many frogs.
among them was Lesang on his foreskin logs.
“Oh man, Oh great one, Oh theity!
I was hoping you could help me with deity
I’ve porked the pines,
and climbed the vines,
But I just can’t get no realty”
In kind, a response, a trinkling, an inkling,
a word to Ender so he’ll stop wrinkling.
“Dofouchen ick und piere bund,
simpare buut alles paert wund.
Silk doesn’t fall and yet it seems,
that fall does silk and come in reams.”
This would not sit with the Ender fair,
oft times he thought while consuming a pear,
that words do mean a lot less than,
grabbing a suweet suweet zebra’s can.
Bestiality aside and joking through and done,
he has a problem as can be seen by anyone.
Ender achieves erection through dubious means,
He uses a product for pleasure, that normally cleans.
I won’t say exactly what it may or Maynard be,
but use of it causes SPOOFE great jealousy.
For this dysfunction Ender sought hyphen relief.
Enter Mr. Cynical and Portnoy but brief,
upon the wind and mind of souls lost,
calling upon the mountains and frost.
Two minds, one body, large navel, big testes.
He also had very prominent breastes.
“Blasting ass all rooty-tooty,
slowly seeping from my booty.
Taste my awful sphincter smell,
My sulfur ridden anal hell,
My gas is juicy loosey fruity.”
His jizz was strong, firm, yellow, and self heating.
Perfect for ender’s mission. What? Why eating.
“Spooje on me please,” requested idjitbit, Ender the snake.
"I’ve got places to go and fatastmatical cocks to take,
up the ass of course, is there any other way?
Wait. Don’t tell me. If you can don’t say.
For the cock belongs to a beloved member of my clan,
'tis Silver Fire’s and if she can’t do me than no one can.
So long forth he went with monkey (did you forget) in tow,
looking for someone to implant him with roe,
he met with Flymaster… misunderstanding the name,
he figured he could guess Flysie’s game.
But the fly’s were from the shit of Nader supporters,
twas cut up and tidy and arranged into quarters.
Twilligan way, twilligan why,
twilligan soup, Ender started to cry.
“Where can I get fertilized eggs to plant in my bladder
This pointless quest makes me madder and madder.
Please forthright fish, provide me with eggs.”
He was talking to no one, he was on his last legs.
When an angel swiffed down from above on up higher high,
The angel’s name? Doobieous! And he felt up Ender’s thigh.
Doob hoped flanged fisting was in the equation,
you know what they say about those half Asian.
"Gosnop and plop, please do keep it in,
I’ll pack that poop right up to your chin,
of plants I’m fond and girls I’m not,
I dare say you’re not very hot,
I molest those who fancy me,
I’ll fist you now you dirty sot.”
(to be continued)
Wow. Do you do weddings and bar mitzvahs, too?
Must oldie’s poem rhyme for it to be said it does work?
Can’t we just agree that oldscratch is a jerk?
And not the kind of jerk that Steve Martin did play
But the kind that you make from the cows that eat hay
It’s dried out and smokey, tough to chew, but not long.
Sort of, I’m told, like Old’s stubby ol’ schlong.
He sits in his apartment and can’t tell eve from morn.
'cause with his shades all drawn down he views animal porn.
I’m not talking basic, like horses and dogs
But squids and a llama and a few croaking frogs.
It’s sick to see, even more to imagine,
But he’s told me so often “that snail can shake his flagellum!”
He works in a bar
to put bread in the jar
but most of the time it’s out back in the car
he’ll shake his big butt
saying “gosh I’m a slut
and if you pay me ten more, I’ll bark like a mutt.”
Uppers and downers and sideways-which-rounders
If you gave him a drug I guarantee you he’ll pound 'er.
I don’t need to tell you just how much he will toke,
But I will tell you this: he drinks the New Coke.
Not the cocaine, nay nay, it’s too weak,
but lysol and bleach, straight off an ass cheek.
One thing I can say without any dismay
Is I’m glad his skank ass lives half the country away.
Toodles.
Hey, I’m famous! Cool! (Okay, so my fatastmatical cock is the famous one. Oh well.)
… very nice oldie! I’m honored.
Lord Byron? Percy Shelly? Nay!
Behold oldscratch, I say!