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rhetorique uk [northern lights]
by Laura DoomThat's the trouble with people nowadays--they're too young.
Aye, but wait 'till they get older--they won't be so young then, will they?
A stretch in Social Services would soon sort these bastards out.
Aye, then they'd know which side their body's battered.
And not a responsible adult between 'em.
Aye, brought up in test tubes.
Well, you know what they say about folk living in glass houses.
Aye, hit the ceiling and whine about futures.
Get stoned and plead insolence--where's the discipline?
Aye, my father beat me senseless every night, and look at me now...
Choke the bleeders at birth, that's what I say.
Aye, strip 'em naked and show 'em who's boss.
Fucking virgins--oxymorons the lot o' them.
Aye, beat those egg-white assholes into shape.
Makes my nipples go stiff just thinking about it.
Aye, mother knows best. 03/07/2013 Posted on 03/07/2013
Copyright © 2024 Laura Doom
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Jim Benz on 03/08/13 at 02:16 AM You've been on a roll lately, but I like this one best. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 03/08/13 at 11:50 PM Aye, this be good. Now pour me another glass of wine, and roll me a joint, to send me on my way. |
| Posted by Paul Lastovica on 03/13/13 at 12:53 AM Young until you're not. |
| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 03/13/13 at 01:11 PM lovely, my lovely, and a touch (delightfully so) Cleeseisque, aye, more Doomisque insightfully so ;) |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 03/20/13 at 12:06 AM Ach, and I think you've got us sorted out and whipped into shapes, Ms. Doom. |
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