PRIZE WINNIN AUSSIE POETRY

Porno Poetry. Stoke the fire and read it on!

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Prayer for the Future

 A poem. My Prayer for the Future.

Read more: Prayer for the Future

Why I Smoke Dope

The world is like my Lady's Secret Garden...



so. I light the bong now and then.

And the flames they don't tell me a lie..
When stoned time does dwell and tarry
Not in a hurry; now I understand
My fingers feel all the better.
and when my cock is in my hand...

sat on many a couch
watching the TV stand, but took no notice and I now I know why;
cause i was stoned.
Perhaps even lost.

Nowadays i am is most time drunk must be how you wind down to pulling the plug and finally saying goodbye...

Sitting here thinking...thinking...well...

XenoxNews.com Classic #Poetry

During our many years of publication XenoxNews.com has been a welcoming home for poets and their poetry. In fact we love poetry so much we have a whole section dedicated to it: http://www.xenoxnews.com/artist/poets-corner


Unfortunately not all our poetry can be found there; and in fact some rhymes that grace our pages can slip from view with the passing of time. So I have decided to resurrect some of our best (and worst) from the archives so you, dear reader, can appreciate the wonder of XenoxNews. com Poetry!



Here is a classic from Old Lonely Leo. He was inspired to write after the Howard Government reneged on their promise to wipe the GST from tissues:

For some naked vixens on the screen,
I emptied my sack of its semen.

Now I sit alone and wonder...

Oh Lord! For what have I spilt my seed?

I watched them frolic and insert in each other,
Devices plastic, see through, and green.

But now my keyboard is wet and my hands still sticky...

Oh Lord! For what have I spilt my seed?

 

Other ditties are perhaps not so graceful. In fact they are downright offensive. Take this example from our resident hillbilly Ricardovitz. It is gross and despicable; but what euphony! You can always substitute your most disliked person(s) in place of the rascist epithet he uses:

 

The other day I took a fishin' trip
Just me and my boat, and no Banjo lip
Banjo was my guide, an old colored feller
He wasn't very dark, he was a high-steppin' yeller
So we launched my boat, and I cranked my motor
And up to my nose came a terrible odor
I looked around, tryin' to find somethin' dead
But it was Banjo with his arm up, scratchin' his head

Some niggers never die
They just smell that way

Now the more he'd scratch, the more he'd sweat
And I'm here to say he was-a-chokin' me to death
So we loaded up, I just couldn't go o­n
And I coughed and I gagged, all the way home
When I dropped him off, I was next to dine
My nose was-a-runnin, and my eyes were-a-cryin'
The smell scorched the hair right out of my nose
When I got home I had to burn all my clothes

Some niggers never die
They just smell that way

 

Not much you can say after that, is there.

Except to let you know that I will be ferreting out more classics over the coming weeks, so keep your eyes open for XenoxNews.com Poetry!

 

 

CADAVER CORPUSCLE

My cadaver corpuscle baby
you so sweet to me now and again
for later
but you always are
my special
corpuscle romance

My cadaver corpuscle sweetheart
long for rectitude
you cause me to take stock
once in a while
corporeal romance

My cadaver corpuscle sinew
stretched together
we
experience a lot together
over the times and forever now
until we be dead
until we be dead

twat muncher