Fortuitous circumstances have set me here
On this mossy outcrop of granite, fist around beer,
While the ass-flap of my pink pyjamas flutters
In sheepish wind as the prize in my eyes gutters.
I've busted out of the straightjacket, dontcha know,
And regale the ewes with bleats and shrieks as I grow
Blackheads on my schwzinzel. Crows are aping me
From sleek gutters perched above the apple tree.
Love, terrible visions await my cloudy future
Slicing seaward inflating my nose with fake silver lures.
Caress my johnson, lonely like me in mawkish verse.
I'll startle you with lines I lament over and rehearse.
Model these crotchless overalls, figment of this pig, meant so
Piningly, this cheese setting (I hope) your mouse to flow.
I'm chewing on dandelion root, dandified
In suspendered bermudas while my nurse has cauterized
My blackheads for a secret princely fee. Look,
Wanton Want, my nose is buried in a picture book,
The pages sheared as I have my way, my cave
Anointed with lip balm and corn Fritos and after-shave.
Who will love me if not for you, I beseech.
I wring and sling, left hand and right, as I teach
Others the glories of cut-and-paste passages
From Corinthians while wanking into my massive fez.
Glory be to the Holiest, now bring me some absinthe.
Undo my suspenders and knock down all the plinths.
A panegyric for St. Paul, a tulip for my Sweet.
Now excuse me yet again while I'm off to beat my meat.
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