Showing posts with label poles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poles. Show all posts
Thursday, April 21, 2016
TRUMP THIS!!!
I gotta Big Cock!
That's right! Big!
Very Big!
I mean Big!
Cock.
Big.
My father had a big one.
Grandfather, too.
Come from a long line
of Big Cocks!
Yes, I do! Big.
My great great grandfather
had a schlong so big
that after he took a piss
he didn't shake it out,
he had to kick the fuckin thing.
That's right.
Big!
One tough man.
And a smart man.
Went to The Yukon
in the Gold Rush days.
He had a huge huge huge
Penis. Yes he did.
Opened a whorehouse
& a restaurant;
he fucked em
& fed em. That's right.
Talk about pole numbers!
What a pole he had!
The train is leaving
the station; the sad-eyed
ladies are rowing home;
the Big Top
is shuttered
as the laughing bones
lie bleaching
in the sun.
Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2016
Labels:
Ancestors,
Cocks,
Dicks,
Donald J. Trump,
Donald Trump,
food,
Hard Candy,
Lineage,
Penis,
poles,
The End of Days,
Trump,
whores
Tuesday, November 3, 2015
THE QUANDARY
Her hands
were fat
with fears.
She dripped
neurosis.
I licked
her droppings.
What else
was I
to do?
Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2015
Labels:
Answers without questions,
magnets,
poles,
possibilities
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)