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Sunday, 13 February 2011



She shuns me, and foments the resentment

That poisons easy livng.

She shuns me, and I retaliate in kind,

Killing the joy of giving.

She needs an enemy,

And an enema too.

She needs a conduit for the

Rectum of her negativity.


Dreams are the silent subscript of the soul.

Dreams, where my stubborn manroot is at ratchet full,

And rarely knowing why.

Dreams which evaporate so suddenly upon

Waking, resisting all desperate efforts

At recall.

And yet I am sure that my dreamworlds are

Stuffed of hieroglyphs, symbolic beasts,

And surrealist masterpieces of coprophagic women

In Sadien detail, ending in the repeated

Failure to write my name.



Woman you drive no deal

You only cheat and steal

The things of the heart.

Trust to you is unreal

And every ending

Another start

In your etrnal war

'Gainst everything masculine,

Honest and true.

I can but sue,

And raise a legion

'Gainst your

Misanthropist zeal.


Snake bite hiss,

Poisoned ring,

Seduction's Nile Betrayal

Will charm that serpent

Enloined, and by-pass, man,

What little brain you have.

Shackle woman in the Eastern way,

Lest these natural traitors have their sway.


Boudicca, your seed

Has done much to bleed

And blanch manhood's creed.

Severed balls, and chins

Smooth of stubble

Have unmanned the race

Defenceless now 'gainst

Female trouble.


Woman, you take advantage of the idealised residue,

Of when you were held in awe,

And did nothing more

Than sow and cook.

But the time will come when men will

Re-evaluate your sex,

Beyond muse and whore,

And realise that

You are the eternal spook,

And architect of the

World's fall.

Danger swaggers in the swarming sirened streets.

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