Sunday 27 November 2011

Bacon Bazooka



A girl’s pert thigh is delicious
Tingle-brain to the tips of my toes;
In cunt I see nothing seditious
A secret that everyone shows.

If the prick is but blood's treason
Then please to my mind tell me this;
How on earth do you reckon in reason
For the lack of your sexual bliss?

You can never get tired of Fanny
Though her owner might bore you to tears;
It's little short of something uncanny
What Dick likes when he's had a few beers.

If any man tells you he doubts
His empty old life is just a farce;
It's only love's rules that he flouts
So kick-in his balls through his arse



Copyright © 2011 Frank TALKER. Permission granted to reproduce and distribute it in any format; provided that mention of the author’s Weblog (http://poetryftalker.blogspot.com/) is included: E-mail notification requested. All other rights reserved.

Friday 18 November 2011

XMAS
(2000)


Santa Claus is coming
'Cause 'is cock is getting fat
So please ram your willy
Up 'is lovely daughter's twat
If you haven't got a willy
A finger will have to do
If you can't spare a finger
Then what kind of man are you?


Copyright © 2011 Frank TALKER. Permission granted to reproduce and distribute it in any format; provided that mention of the author’s Weblog (http://poetryftalker.blogspot.com/) is included: E-mail notification requested. All other rights reserved.

Thursday 17 November 2011

He Who Shall Not Work; Shall Not Eat


I wouldn't give a medal to a starving man
Or the sweat off my bollocks for the race I ran;
When all he wants, is reality, to shirk:
Why should he benefit from my hard work?

So here's the cure for their impoverished mess
Let the poor have our diseases - on the N-H-S;
Guinea-pigs for cures for all their shamming pain
So we can work the harder; but only for our gain.

Oh, Christ! They whinge-on about their borin' fuckin' jobs
But only fuckin' borin' people live like fuckin' yobs;
They are the cause of their own sad fate
For they are the excressence of the Welfare State.

If the poor want respect, they can damn well earn it
Give 'em money? I'd rather fuckin' burn it;
Just leave 'em in the gutter - no Ifs; no Buts
I wouldn't waste the food to feed their fuckin' worthless guts.


Look! Starvation is the reward for the parasite's plans
This is a Natural Law; and not one of Man's;
If you wish, in this world, to be set free
Then get off your arse and stop trying to scrounge off me.



Copyright © 2011 Frank TALKER. Permission granted to reproduce and distribute it in any format; provided that mention of the author’s Weblog (http://poetryftalker.blogspot.com/) is included: E-mail notification requested. All other rights reserved. Frank TALKER is also the author of Sweaty Socks: A Treatise on the Inevitability of Toe Jam in Hot Weather (East Cheam Press: Groper Books, 1997) and is University of Bullshit Professor Emeritus of Madeupology.

Saturday 12 November 2011

Missing Link



He bade me stand
 and I obeyed;
He took my hand
 then on me laid.

Op’ning up
 he walked inside;
I filled his cup
 he shared my pride.

Unclothed respect
 did meet me fair;
Love's debt-collect
 his arse now bare.

Backbone aflame
 sparks graze my skin;
The beautiful game
 whose rules begin.

To widen minds
 who’ve found their best;
The well worn signs
 of love that's blessed.

My mouth around
 throbs out its wave;
He chokes on sound
 from head I gave.

Now full of him
 curled toes and spine;
We leave the gym
 his smell now mine.

Always I wait
 the flood’s tempest;
For storm’s abate
 when lovers rest.

Stood clean and proud
 admired by he;
In silence loud
 becalmed in me.

Each dream of prick -
 that missing peace:
A cunt's-eye trick
 for world’s release.

That no man thinks
 he’s lost of me;
My boy’s love thinks
 and so is free.



Copyright © 2011 Frank TALKER. Permission granted to reproduce and distribute it in any format; provided that mention of the author’s Weblog (http://poetryftalker.blogspot.com/) is included: E-mail notification requested. All other rights reserved. Frank TALKER is also the author of Sweaty Socks: A Treatise on the Inevitability of Toe Jam in Hot Weather (East Cheam Press: Groper Books, 1997) and is University of Bullshit Professor Emeritus of Madeupology.

LOVE STAINS (2000)



I'd love to stain, with you, the sheets,
The crumpled valance and the pleats;
For you to drink my cock down deep
As you do stop me from my sleep.

I'd like to munch each wobbling tit
Before I chew your little clit;
Till our love turns you black and blue:
To part those petals tearing through.

I'd need to eat, off you, your face,
Your lip 'n' neck 'n' earthy grace:
A-wand'ring goes this thumb to sink;
Ent'ring your puckered anal chink.

I'd want to smell on you my self,
To bathe in your aroma's health;
Then feel your navel and your tum
And splatter them with white-hot cum.

I'd have to smack your lovely arse,
Right from the back - down in the grass:
To bang your buns: Oh, yes! What fun!
I thank the Lord you're not a nun.

I'd lift your legs - high in the air -
My balls would slap your bottom, there,
But am I just misbegotten,
Who wants so much to fuck you rotten?



Copyright © 2011 Frank TALKER. Permission granted to reproduce and distribute it in any format; provided that mention of the author’s Weblog (http://poetryftalker.blogspot.com/) is included: E-mail notification requested. All other rights reserved. Frank TALKER is also the author of Sweaty Socks: A Treatise on the Inevitability of Toe Jam in Hot Weather (East Cheam Press: Groper Books, 1997) and is University of Bullshit Professor Emeritus of Madeupology.

MENAGE A MOI (2000)



In this night's heat -
when the old dick throbs -
I can think of none but you;
For your absence, sweet,
my delight it robs
And knows not just what to do.

I'm often annoyed -
'cause it never sleeps -
When I wish to read my book;
But Nature's deployed;
so it always weeps
When its eye, at me, does look.

Yes! It longs for the touch -
of your dear hand -
To massage, then unbend it;
So stiff, that much,
she makes it stand
That none but her can mend it.

So although you're gone
into you I thrust
For desire does come about;
You bade me on
to make you - just -
In the game of In & Out.

A creamy deed -
as my lust, it, spills -
To your honour have I now kissed;
A lake of seed
my belly button fills
Because - I've just frigged my wrist!



Copyright © 2011 Frank TALKER. Permission granted to reproduce and distribute it in any format; provided that mention of the author’s Weblog (http://poetryftalker.blogspot.com/) is included: E-mail notification requested. All other rights reserved. Frank TALKER is also the author of Sweaty Socks: A Treatise on the Inevitability of Toe Jam in Hot Weather (East Cheam Press: Groper Books, 1997) and is University of Bullshit Professor Emeritus of Madeupology.

White Rap



Wanna be the first, pres'dent of color in the U-S-A,
So, at last, I can fin-ally, 'ave my way;
Wanna legalize pimpin', 'ard-porn an' crack,
And paint the muvverfuckin', White 'Ouse black.

Won't Abe Lincoln shit, when 'e sees,
An end-to-'is White-Trash officialese?
To make Civil Rights over-rule your town,
We shall turn this nation right upside-down.

This, 'Ousin' Project boy's on Welfare, too
Will, just-as-sooner-rip, the shit-from-all-of-you;
It's time for-us-coons to get-some reparation
A payback to finish Black, integration.

The Senate and the 'Ouse can kiss my darkie butt
Miscegenation-law for ev'ry White-Meat slut;
The Congressmen'll-'ave-to-take-a flyin' muvverfuck,
When I give 'em my big-black, dick to suck.

Now I need a classy hoe - my latest hot-ass lover,
To, pose with me on Time and, even Newsweek's cover;
'Cause the 'lect'rate oughtta-know, we don't, fool around,
When the ghetto rings-out, with this, nigger sound.

And my Foreign, Policy - that's just-as-wise:
To, bring the ragheads down to, our own size;
In spreadin' U-S culture so that they can learn:
When their pointy-mosques we-bomb and babies-burn.

But my wife ain't-a-successful, lawyer bitch:
You dirt-poor fucks, always vote for the rich;
So when we come to power, this is what we'll do:
It's 'Separate But Equal' - but not, of course, for you.

So to get to the top, you need tenacity,
When, politics is all about, mendacity;
So I 'ave to stop bein' just a, bitch-squeezer
'Cause, first I need a Green-Card and a visa.



Copyright © 2011 Frank TALKER. Permission granted to reproduce and distribute it in any format; provided that mention of the author’s Weblog (http://poetryftalker.blogspot.com/) is included: E-mail notification requested. All other rights reserved. Frank TALKER is also the author of Sweaty Socks: A Treatise on the Inevitability of Toe Jam in Hot Weather (East Cheam Press: Groper Books, 1997) and is University of Bullshit Professor Emeritus of Madeupology.

Friday 11 November 2011

MOST ENDURING CLICHÉ OF THEM ALL (2000)



The solidifying form remains to be beheld - unseen -
that now love, me, does fullest crown;
Making you that enviable queen
of being born to such unknown renown.

That bridled halter, your quick mind does now beget,
this cant'ring movement of your art;
What owner, then, could have no small regret
for thorough-bred ideals - in ev'ry part.

So, I evade the darkness, with its doubt and lies,
by seeing who you really are;
For no cosmetic ever truly beautifies
the respect which sought your highmost repertoire.

Whose furrowed shadow clouds the lowly, shov'lling field,
to plough through ev'ry single file;
While you sow - avoiding fallow yield:
A sunny brow that sets upon your dewy smile.

Yes. This windswept sea, which you so rightly toss,
does sail me on to each deep-water port -
Wide Atlantic I must learn to cross;
perfecting all the dreams that you, and I, had wrought.



Copyright © 2011 Frank TALKER. Permission granted to reproduce and distribute it in any format; provided that mention of the author’s Weblog (http://poetryftalker.blogspot.com/) is included: E-mail notification requested. All other rights reserved. Frank TALKER is also the author of Sweaty Socks: A Treatise on the Inevitability of Toe Jam in Hot Weather (East Cheam Press: Groper Books, 1997) and is University of Bullshit Professor Emeritus of Madeupology.

Thursday 10 November 2011

Things My Dick has Seen (2001)



I've seen wrinkled ones
And nice tight buns:
Done up there just like oysters;
Big, firm tits
And hairy bits
But never had a nun in cloisters.

Screaming queens
And old spunk-fiends
And girls red-faced with lust;
Whose screwed-up faces
put me through their paces
Till my balls were fit to bust.

There are girls who are quiet
But dying to try it
Who keep their heat inside;
There are women on the pull
Till their mouthes are full
Who are only along for the ride.

Girls wanting blacks
In their fuck-me slacks
Fed up with white-boys' abuses;
Hard, long and thick
Is how they like prick
Not the mummy's-boys' vacant excuses.

On frosty morn
I've had the horn
While my girl she waited for my rising;
I spunked on her face
And she quite liked the taste
Is a fucking really so surprising?

I've seen eyeballs roll
As you fill their hole
In the pleasure of their eyes;
And you will always rate
If you can shoot straight
When you see the whites of their thighs.

From back or front
Each one has a cunt
That needs a good old stretching;
They really don't mind
Which way you grind
As long as it's them you're fetching.


Copyright © 2011 Frank TALKER. Permission granted to reproduce and distribute it in any format; provided that mention of the author’s Weblog (http://poetryftalker.blogspot.com/) is included: E-mail notification requested. All other rights reserved. Frank TALKER is also the author of Sweaty Socks: A Treatise on the Inevitability of Toe Jam in Hot Weather (East Cheam Press: Groper Books, 1997) and is University of Bullshit Professor Emeritus of Madeupology.

Divorce (2005)



No words influence a lover blind,
Nor make a quarrel lesser;
Nothing changes a born again mind,
From the fortresses' grieving confessor.
No act saves a marriage’s stopping motion,
Nor nurtures a relationship failed;
Nothing binds this cracked devotion,
Nor reinstates times that prevailed.
No thoughts can staunch the children’s tears,
Nor pray for parents’ resolve;
Nothing alleviates their keenest fears,
As they watch a world dissolve.
The truth relates estrangement’s course
No lie ever prevents divorce.





Copyright © 2011 Frank TALKER. Permission granted to reproduce and distribute it in any format; provided that mention of the author’s Weblog (http://poetryftalker.blogspot.com/) is included: E-mail notification requested. All other rights reserved. Frank TALKER is also the author of Sweaty Socks: A Treatise on the Inevitability of Toe Jam in Hot Weather (East Cheam Press: Groper Books, 1997) and is University of Bullshit Professor Emeritus of Madeupology.

Fuck Your Wife


Please let me fuck your wife, tonight
Please let me fuck her do;
My knob is hard; my balls are tight
I might just shag you, too.

A red dress, short, it makes me hot
Those tits so proud they speak;
If I could stretch her tight young twot
She'd shriek and shriek and shriek.

This fat-arse, plump, it makes me shout
I’d love to smack it mean;
The bitch just made me whip it out
To make me lick her clean.

Now spunk is dribbling down my leg
It fills my boots with cum;
Can I impale her on my peg?
Or take it up the bum?

To get her down and poke her quick
Is perhaps your worst affront;
But that she’s your wife just makes me sick
You fucking lucky cunt!


Copyright © 2011 Frank TALKER. Permission granted to reproduce and distribute it in any format; provided that mention of the author’s Weblog (http://poetryftalker.blogspot.com/) is included: E-mail notification requested. All other rights reserved. Frank TALKER is also the author of Sweaty Socks: A Treatise on the Inevitability of Toe Jam in Hot Weather (East Cheam Press: Groper Books, 1997) and is University of Bullshit Professor Emeritus of Madeupology.