Mourners
You rarely see mournersin corners of saunas
they don’t hang in steam rooms
it’s not their domain
They’re weepy eyes wetty
and not at all sweaty
but really upsetty
kickin’ ass graveside’s
the name of their game
That’s where they do their best work
Coffin Boffins
Poetry. Excellent!
A poem by Sir Paul McCartney
I lay upon a grassy bank,
my hands were all a quiver.
I slowly undid her suspender belt,
and her leg fell in the river!
Posted by
Me! |
11:04 AM
Congatulations; that one was definitely cringe-worthy. I usually don't get that cringing feeling up my spine unless I'm watching Ben Stiller movies.
Posted by
Fat Sparrow |
10:58 PM
Er, thanks. It wasn't meant to be cringe-worthy though.
Posted by
Stephen Cree |
7:34 AM
No, no, no... Not YOURS. The one about the leg falling off.
Posted by
Fat Sparrow |
10:31 PM
Ah, right. I understand now. Thanks FS.
Posted by
Stephen Cree |
6:09 AM
what's with not posting?
Posted by
Xill-e-Ilahi |
6:32 PM
Good of you to ask, my good buddy. I'm hellishly busy at the moment. I'm toiling with my proper job for 60 hrs per week and now my sideline has got busy so I've loads of work and too few hours.
I wil get back to posting as soon as I'm able.
Cheers!!
Posted by
Stephen Cree |
11:53 AM
And to you sir, I donate a Nobel prize.
Posted by
Kieran |
8:34 PM
Thank you. I accept!!!
Posted by
Stephen Cree |
9:32 PM
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