The ratio of love to lust
Is the same as kisses to thrusts
The ratio of love to lust
Is the same as kisses to thrusts
She shifts detritus
Stoops, wiping soiled hands on grass
A modern Macbeth
Psychedelia Smith,
Domestic Dominatrix,
Kukri
Tonight I wish to thank you all,
For voting me to be,
Receiving this gilded statue,
With hasty scribbled speech.
Raise a cheer but before you clap,
Pray first applaud my seat.
It bore the weight of years of work,
Close rival to my feet.
Each buttock cheek neatly enshrined,
We grew so intimate,
Supported so reliably,
It barely creaked its fate.
So now I hope you understand,
Why I’m keeping one spare,
Of all the false tears shed I save,
A real one for my chair.
Once I saw a little fishy,
Little fishy in a dishy;
Tiny fins and eyes so bright,
Shiny scales that glow at night.
I wondered why the fishy lay,
So dull and lifeless, flat and grey;
But when the fishy didn’t play,
I simply blinked and walked away.
The nasty people came today,
With chemicals they used to spray,
The flowers sleeping in their beds,
To give them poisoned, droopy heads.
These bringers of the toxic sleep,
A withered bounty they shall reap,
For fruit will make the nasties sick,
When it’s washed down with arsenic.
The postman cometh, once again,
He hesitates, remembers pain,
The postman runneth, mantraps maim,
Some day I’ll win our little game.
Today I saw a caravan,
Eat a small and dimpled man.
Yesterday I saw another,
Eat a lonely single mother.
The world can seem so big and mean,
When caravans do things obscene,
So now I burn them carefully,
To hear them shrieking horribly.
Today’s urban safari day,
I found this gun you see.
I stalk the streets in search of prey,
Bring down the ones that flee.
I’ll ornament my mantlepiece,
Car horns of ivory,
Volkswagen trunks and leather seats,
Displayed to all with glee.