Knockers

Smell the tramp with the knockers,
Silicone knockers!
What a truckload of orgy their sex appeal prognosticates!
How they pitter—pat, pitter—pat, pitter—pat
In the horny elastic fluid of obfuscation!
While the humdingers that oversquirt
All the Abraham's bosoms seem to wobble
With a creamy sensuousness,
Grappling bondage, bondage, bondage
In a style of Gothic balladry
To the twang that so voluptuously oozes
From the knockers, knockers, knockers, knockers,
Knockers, knockers, knockers,
From the humming and the gurgling of the knockers.

Smell the succulent coupling knockers,
Creamy knockers!
What a globe of snugness their shapeliness promises!
Through the invigorating laughing gas of murkiness
How they cuddle bulbous their joy!
From the uncoagulated—bilious busts
And stiff cock
What unique rude lay seesaws
Abutting the tit that nods, while bra burner blows hard
On the weathercock!
Oh, from out the grinding the organ sexual activities
What a geyser of fluidity lustily splashes!
How physical beauty distends!
How palm—greasing
Thunders the posterior! How Ruby Lips unbosoms oneself
Of the orgasm that overflows with energy,
Squirting the quivering and the ballooning
Of the knockers, knockers, knockers,
Of the knockers, knockers, knockers, knockers,
Knockers, knockers, knockers,
Bumper—to—bumper the jingling and the plopping of the knockers!

Smell the obscene foghorn knockers,
Blaspheming knockers!
What farce of funk, for the nonce, their knobbliness narrates!
Chez the shocking knob of gloaming
How they blubber bloated their abblot!
Too much stank in the nostrils to let drop
They can only chafe, get pins and needles,
Stretched of cock,
In a wanton sexual pleasuring to the sop of the spunk,
Inside a frothing wet blanket with the stiff and red—hot with excitement poker,
Squirting erecter, obscener, smellier,
Cheek by jowl a demonic Jabberwocky
And a spunky sweat,
For the nonce, for the nonce, adjoining people or over one's dead body,
By the swelling pride of the creamy whitewashed weathercock!
Oh, the knockers, knockers, knockers!
What farce their funk fingers
Of Fantasy!
How they swell and knock together and wobble!
What a blotch they outspew
On the codpiece of the tossing punkah!
Yet the knob, it beefily fucks
With the aid of the ting—a—linging
And the exploding.
How the big stick withdraws and gushes!
From hour to hour the knob thrustfully blurts out.
In the grunting
And the abusing
How the big stick squelches and swells
Using the squelching and swelling in the sexual pleasure of the knockers,
Of the knockers,
Of the knockers, knockers, knockers, knockers,
Knockers, knockers, knockers,
At the sign of the blubber and the vibration of the knockers!

Smell the humming of the knockers,
Juggernaut knockers!
What a crust of economy—size hard cheese their Sapphic ode infects!
Inside the clam of the dungeon
How we jump with affunk
At the punk prick of their rhythm!
For every ejaculation that whiffles
From the feculence within their blowholes
Is a strain
And the lumpenproletariat, ah, the lumpenproletariat,
They that squat upstairs, swell the prick,
Penetrating stiff,
And who, wielding the baton, grinding the organ, squeezing the box
Chez that pink drill,
Pulsate a projection in hotly sloshing
Vis—à—vis the fishy spunk, a bust!
They are neither cyborg nor contortionist.
They are neither Frankenstein's Monster nor hominoid.
They are bogies
And their Pope it is who wields the baton
As he babbles, bubbles, burbles, gurgles,
Guggles
A salvo from the knockers!
And his tickled pink boobs bulge
By means of the salvo of the knockers!
And he keeps one's pecker up and he yodels
Dumping porridge, porridge, porridge
In a type of voodooistic spree killing
By means of the salvo of the knockers,
Of the knockers,
Dumping porridge, porridge, porridge
In a type of shamanistic spree killing,
To the yo—yoing of the knockers,
Of the knockers, knockers, knockers,
To the belching of the knockers,
Dumping porridge, porridge, porridge
As he twangs, hooters, honks
In a happy—go—lucky voodooistic serial killing,
To the biting of the knockers,
Of the knockers, knockers, knockers,
To the tootling of the knockers,
Of the knockers, knockers, knockers, knockers,
To the blubbering and the beefing of the knockers!

Copyright © Irma Cerrutti 2010