Saturday, November 1, 2008

Ethereal Beauty #1

Ethereal beauty, as if an amour
Could reap and sow, like a basilisk
In God-giving banquets for the poor
Who love in beseeching tears. Tsk!

O, Love, blind me with your love,
A love that wraps and smothers
My aortae, blood unshoved.
From unrequited love, we're all brothers.

Ah! The men in snowy coats
Come for me
With butterfly nets. Who dotes
On you, Love? It's me on my knees.

Cleavage! Turnips! Westward fools!
My Love lies unrelating
In a fervent sea which cools
In epileptic flecks mating

Periwinkles with discarded twinkies. Sadness
And sameness, Dear, I follow your coattails
With tongue-lolling gladness.
Verse number six-one-two-nine. Quail

Litter the foyer while I dine
On sheepsbrains, vicious
Their remonstrance, I've had wine,
A bellyful. Are you suspicious?

Erk! Cover me in potato sperm!
Lick my dangling parts.
I know, I know. I'm but a germ
Who prays and bites and weeps and farts.

Sing me a song, ethereal beauty,
Afore I collapse in hysteria.
You're such a coy, steaming cutie
With, no doubt, not a touch of malaria.

A tepid round of tea, barmaid,
I’m juiced on skull-and-bones pills.
The orderlies left, I‘m not afraid.
In seventeen books I‘ll relate my ills.

No? You‘ve refused overtime?
God’s plan a cataract of song,
A splooge of rental dental rinse, a dime
Halo expurgated from my dong.

My ethereal beauty should be smiling
So I can sail, absolute, softly in peace,
My reputation as poet-putz piling
Up like mercury in a piston-obelisk with grease.

Ha! Ho! Where is my amour, my one true Love?
My cooing pigeon, my mustard seed,
My aching, tear-stained turtle dove?
I give up my pale abominable screeds.


NigelBeale said...

Rabelais would have been proud Brian!

Anonymous said...

95 to go.