Empty Sphere
By threeleafshamrock
- 3494 reads
Oh empty sphere
You linger here
though clouded in thick fog
and you possess
the deft finesse
of an arthritic frog
It seems that you
could misconstrue
The Lords’ Prayer if you tried.
Imagined slights
are your delights,
though sorely wound your pride.
I’d chance to say,
you start your day
with bouts of flagellation
you might find peace
and more release
if you tried masturbation
You rant and rave
and try to save
the world with bitter rancor.
Your constant spate
and need to bait
suggests, a rare sperm-banker
You spew advice
and criticise
like a lecturer in college;
professing care
you proud, declare
your fearless lack of knowledge.
You target those
who praise your prose,
with smiles and offer kudos.
And then, just when
they bare their skin
you scourge with scentless thorn rose
It makes me sick
that you should lick
your lips and take such pleasure,
or cock your snout
to proudly spout;
you're such a fucking treasure!
What goes around
is surely bound
to come back; not to extol
but justice serve
and with real verve,
chew lumps out of your arse hole
Self righteous ass,
raise up your glass
and drink to your achievement
I’ll wait ‘the day
That you dismay;
Your literary bereavement!
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Comments
Woof! Woof! Ha! Ha! No
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Blimey, Chris! Is there
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Ha! Ha! I see you took on
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Ha! Ha! A cherry. I love it.
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Nobody is taken in Chris.
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Congratulations on the
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Blimey... Well, ducking in
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