P1716 Cartoon king
I'm a cartoon king, imaginary thing,
Suvro thought me up an hour ago.
My kingdom I think, is on the brink,
Of being written as the rhymes flow.
For a start in the corner, a barbershop,
Has scissors made from gold.
Maybe not so, but anything can go,
Just repeating what I have been told.
I have a sinewy charm, but no arm,
So I may not look very happy.
Random are the forces, I don't like horses,
I walk to my kitchen for tea.
I'm sad, it's obviously bad,
I look a little podgy.
The artist's whim, I'm just a dream,
He has license to be dodgy.
The moustachioed look, I might spook,
A child not used to facial hair.
The hairpiece looks what it is,
A bald king can get a lot of stare.
But the hair is good, it relieves his mood,
The depression lifts a little bit,
Drawing lines one after the other,
Shows how unreal his wit.
I can't lie, he wants to die,
But he still thinks he can be of use.
Deluded a little, his feelings brittle,
Even I know that's a futile ruse.
My eyes reveal, can't conceal,
The sadness in his heart.
I'm supposed to be a happy king, but
I'm off to an awful start.
P1714 Nest
I build a nest, just for jest,
No one wants to live with me.
My curly hair, the surly face,
Girls never like to see.
Plus I think a lot, blink a lot less,
They don't like that either.
Or when I sit, sometimes I shit,
Rubs against their prude hairs.
Also my voice, they say it's noise,
My songs aren't about love.
Financially I'm broke, a hole I've poked,
In this tree for my dove.
Maybe some day, if I may,
Find someone who likes me.
Together in this hole, with joy we'll roll,
Happily live forever with glee.
P1713 The boss
You just do, what I tell you,
Or I fuck your fucking ass.
I might even force a pipe,
To extract your bravado gas.
Swallow your gall, or I kick your balls,
You'll be forced to beg mercy.
Gaslighting galore, I hit where it's sore,
You'll suffer the tortures I fancy.
My boot on your head, my poot in your face,
I'll shove work down your throat.
Your air I deprive, enjoy the poison hive,
Your hide needs to be a very thick coat.
I the boss, can always toss,
A miserablist from the job.
You're my bitch, your lips I quickly stitch,
You strident good-for-nothing slob.
I'll hit you hard, post a guard,
Make sure I get what I pay for.
No lunch or brunch, not a single crunch,
Or I'll rape you like a whore.
I own all your holes, insert what is told,
Or consider your paycheck cut.
Drop your pants as per my wants,
Carry a lubed plug in the butt.
Whip you with a cane, pain insane,
Make sure you tremble in fear.
Once in the office, remember you this,
You can never get out of here.
P1711 Obedient citizen
I'm a whore on all fours,
I do the best I can.
I eat your shit, with a smile that fits,
Subservient to the rationed plan.
No jobs are good, or no food,
Thank god you have a full plate.
Tattered and torn, my dignity shorn,
Love your politics of hate.
I like your talks, the lack in thoughts,
Love the darkness in your well.
Insular and parochial, almost in denial,
Thirst in dialectic you quell.
I say wow, don't know how,
Why my teeth can't chew all your poop.
Little girlie frocks, all the ancient clocks,
Dedicate my teeth to your group.
I no longer can think, mostly wink,
Language lost in vapid euphemism,
I drool and dance, jolly by chance,
Never pass light through a prism.
I blow your cock, clean your dirty socks,
I drink all the piss you ever pissed.
My future is pain, obedient citizen,
Never an order have I missed.
Turpitude is old, xenophobia gold,
Love the manufactured gods.
I am a fool, my hero is so cool,
Inserted in my ass many rods.
O dearest leader, like your gods,
I like it when you fuck my ass.
My stool needs a rod, I have you nod,
Brings relief from conspiratorial gas.
Feel the thrust, loosens anal rust,
Crimson the color of a good boy.
Fuck me more, your powers galore,
Your unworthy frivolous toy.
Hail, hail, and hail, I know you must not fail,
I must die a bleeding death.
My angst is vain, trickiest the pain,
Of freedom in every breath.
Fabricated fiction, elaborate friction,
Many zero sum games to play.
Let me lick your sperm, only your germ,
Must live on to make me pay.
P1710 Multicolored poop
I know I'm fit when I shit
Multicolored poop a tad.
A thimble full can kill a bull
The stench is really very bad.
I eat the bull, that's so cool,
Then shit some more for fun.
The day starts with a turd, then curd,
The smell just makes me run.
I keep the shit, in bags that fit,
Air proof to ferment fast.
Isn't at all easy, feel sometimes queasy,
Farts like bombs I blast.
At night I eat, leftover treats,
The fridge full of rotting meat.
Never turn it on, fungus I spawn,
Hallucinate on fermented shit.
I see a miss, wet tongue kiss,
I lick the parts where she sweats.
Her smells are nice, sex my vice,
My love juice makes her wet.
The gods love me, my shit they see,
As a solution to their hunger whim.
When skies are bright, in a lot of light,
They suck my asshole rim.
P1703 Not good looking
Good looking I'm not, but that's always a thought,
That crossed your mind I suppose.
More than skin deep, how my mind leaps,
From the bizarre to severely morose.
Well I guess I'm alright, I have to fight,
No one's handing me a platter of gold.
The mind is lost, in comforting costs,
To transactions it remains sold.
But I won't want to talk, or chalk,
About the gears whirring inside me.
You wouldn't understand, that grotesque land,
See anything the way I usually see.
My world is in my mind, in a book bind,
I can only travel vicariously you see.
Some characters are me, some I can't be,
Get to rent their eyes for free.
My thoughts disordered, provide the fodder,
Makes it hard for me to quietly sit.
I don't think I know abnormal, or the normal,
If my life depended on it.
Just a haze, a tricky maze,
You're hidden from the need to hide.
I can feel the pangs, and the fangs,
Hollowing away the pulp inside.
I might as well give up, a hemlock cup,
And serve it to the self.
Nobody would notice, pretend artifice,
A skeleton hugging a bookshelf.
I don't exist now, I won't exist then,
No matter to a planet of eight billion apes.
Self righteous stance, superstitious prance,
Clarity always their sour grapes.
I don't fit, unconditionally admit,
And can't propitiate to the venal gods.
The grains are against, practical pains,
Difficult to fight the scary odds.
They see blood, they come in a flood,
They race to rub salt in.
Selfish souls, superficial trolls,
They get away with their sin.
I'm just tired, my nerves have wired,
A repeating depressive bout.
In my mind I'm dead, wanting to blow my head,
Is all I can think about.
P1700 Genius
All I have are my boogers,
Years of experienced toil,
Won't let the naysayers value them,
They will my ruse foil.
One booger one lakh rupees,
That's the price I demand.
They are potent enough to dull all pain,
The very best in the land.
Some are too small to sell,
I'll mix them with my poop.
Alloyed with salamander piss,
Make for a healthy goop.
My lab will be known worldwide,
I envision serpentine queues to the moon.
I am a genius no doubt,
Dirt under my nails soon.
P1698 Pincers
I've fucked my luck, running amok,
My shit is smeared on my face.
My pincers can pinch only an inch,
A diminutive joker in space.
My limbs turned green, from gangrene,
The smell tells me I'm dead.
Cancer in your throat, I sink your boat,
I hope you die a bamboozled head.
My balls hang loose, woeful blues,
I sing to get my subversive dick up.
Chicks with dicks, animated tics,
I drink their piss from a cup.
The days are bad, my moods are mad,
The worms on the anus intrepid.
They venture out on evening tours,
Their blood on the toilet lid.
My ass must stink, dry shit I think,
Always my frontiers get lower,
Just yesterday I pissed in my mouth,
Ways to bloom a reticent flower.
The world I curse, want a naked nurse,
Who can show me how to fist.
Piss from a miss, sound like "hiss",
These wishes high on my list.
Fuck the leaders of the world,
Eat my shit I say.
Gallons of stale piss, my asshole to kiss,
Gag on my puke they may.
Fuck this and that, a cogent fact,
Ain't no way to hide the dire.
Screwed everyday, who can really say,
Why my asshole is on fire.
The gas about to leak, I'm a smelly freak,
Who the hell defines what normal is.
This sphere full of fart, will be blown apart,
Afraid of a new pissy miss.
Mutated beings like me, just crazy you see,
What do you do with assholes everywhere.
Not supposed to know, gods no-show,
Death is an inevitable fare.
Tired of bullshit, drugs hide this shit,
Not the only one struggling to stay sane.
How can you not yell, with a jangling bell,
Shoved right up your lower lane?
Asshole for a mouth, people wish me south,
Until there isn't anywhere to go.
My sighs are deeper, a disturbed sleeper,
I can't ever go with the general flow.
The writing must sink, I use indelible ink,
Profanity does it for the laity.
Themselves quite rude, otherwise prude,
Secretively tend to a tongue that's shitty.
So long folks, hope I can coax,
Some silly worms out of your asshole.
My farts can make you faint, I'm no fucking saint,
Preventing your fall into a hole.
P1686 Foothold
A morose mind sans hope,
Embers of unfulfilled ambition's rage.
That one day will quietly wilt,
Dissipate without a trace.
I'm still at it though,
The rudder lost behind.
Hobbling through the hurdles,
The unlit theater of minds.
Kith and cruel kin, litter of sin,
Friends armed with fangs.
Loyalty isn't worth a scruple,
Hordes of cold selfish gangs.
Rats on hedonic treadmills,
Obsessed with pecking order.
Superficially pleasant grimace,
Minds too shallow to ponder.
A darkness has descended on my soul,
It's as heavy as it is not sublime.
The Illusion of time has come to a halt,
This moment certainly not mine
The headwinds are blowing hard,
I'm unable to hold on.
The talons losing foothold,
Loose the layers of con.
Shadowy characters looking on,
They are out to get me.
Merit is dead, the world is fed,
By nefarious greed and monstrosity.
The climb is steep, my problems deep,
I don't think I can do it anymore.
I may fall, this cliff is tall,
A nightmare from before.
My screams are muted,
There's no air to breathe.
Gasping for life, raspy groans,
I feel the loose soil underneath.
I may be already dead,
Or maybe my feelings are that way,
Everything is wrapped in grief,
Everywhere it's a glum gray.
P1681 Gold
I hunt for gold, I'm told,
It's deep inside my nose.
Index in, always shoveling,
I don't find it gross.
I in fact eat the dig,
The boogers are savagely nice,
They've got a hint of crunch,
Sometimes indian spice.
I look at it and check for gold,
Before I add it to my soup.
Guests get extra helping,
Sometimes my pickled poop.
P1679 Sticks
My shit sticks to my asshole,
I never think it is right,
The sphincter muscles try their best,
Sometimes they lose the fight.
I sit there thinking about the world,
With shit swaying in the wind.
Sometimes the cogitations can go deep,
Feel the shit dry on the skin.
I always arrive at hurried viewpoints,
Distant binaries that won't see eye to eye,
To dislodge, my finger I lodge
Into the self-righteous pie.
I hate it, but sometimes I'm forced,
To get out of the incarceration.
Sometimes I imagine a lady licking it loose,
And enjoy the masturbation.
With a plop, the good news drop,
And I flush the poop away,
I need to fix a mini black hole,
To my hole one future day.
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