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Click hereThe Shag Soul
The shag soul is sepulchral
That twangs the unhealthy orifice of Gary Glitter
Under my gash. Fellate, you faggots
That bed down on suicidal cyberpunks, unfuck me here,
And stuff me from the conk to the trotter top-full
Of hardest hardness! make squelchy my spunk;
Jam up the orifice and backwash abutting bowels of compassion,
That no miffed gibberings of genius
Jiggle my inoperable office, nor dump titbit between
Th'pigtail and pretty face! Wank to my lesbian's udders,
And harvest my Horlicks for haemorrhoids, you gassin' hot-gospellers,
Wherever in your camouflaged carcasses
You wait on rhythm's nobbling! Toss off, gormless gloaming,
And suck thee in the brownest excrement of bottom,
That my prickly pole see not the gash it fucks,
Nor Abraham's bosom honk through the ear muffs of the Rosicrucian,
To yammer, "Velcro, Velcro!"
Copyright © Irma Cerrutti 2013
mixed with many subjects, from Rock and Roll to the Bible