Rotten Old Bukowski (Explicit)

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Rotten old men

Standing like their

Rotten cocks

Erect

They watch the mothers

And children play.

Some watch the mothers

In skirts, tight, amorphous

Bending over

Their great asses

Blocking out the sky.

The daughters cowering behind

Oval shadow

Others watch the children

Thumbs perked up

Wriggling between two

Moist, pursued lips

Blowing their

Boo-boo’d thumbs.

Erotic Stomach Surgery

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Squeezing inches closer

A nice hazel

Cream cheese

Frosting

I can’t stand it

When the raspberry jelly

Sticks to my fingers

We’re scraping the jelly off

The table

Pureed to the center

Of my favorite syringe

Oozing belly button puss

On robust tum

and we never gave it

a name

How to Pick up Women

after a few pots of coffee
I shit like machine gun rounds,
My ass sags like rumple stilts skin
Putrid burning mass graves
Producing poo more impressive
Than poetry
When I meet a woman with a scandalously
Intentioned smile
I become
The fluffy bunny
Doing back flips
For a carrot
And a stroke

I read her a line or two
Prove my artistry
Probe my brain
Probing with chocolate finger
Frantic fanny
“that’s not even that impressive
You should see my shits
Gander the goods.
People come from all around
Towns from the far side
of the world
to seize this masterpiece ”
And when they do
The long tapering snake making its way
From the toilet bowl
Down the hall
And out the front door
That’s what gets me laid.

Sad Tugging

I took her love
like a well fitted suit
snarling
shame
in between torn
Kreuger thighs
of suicidal dancer
tapering to toes
curling

taking me to celestial lows
(revolutionary)
In-furled frilled brow
Hand clenching
my heat

Love Life

You fight
But only enough
To keep me from quitting

We fuck
The hand are rough
The screaming jizzums splitting

Hiding behind
Imaginary assault
To keep genuine passion
In its holding cell

Queen of the Material World

She had a seam on the small of her back
We’d make love
From this world
Until the sun rose in the next
I never questioned

She was flexible
Voluptuous
An ass that herded men like sheep
You’d think she was famous
A real contribution to
American culture
By the press and cameras
Centered behind her

Her face symmetrical
Underwear unstained
Never felt the itch or urge
To rub her ass against
The floor like a dog

On the night of our leashing
I bit at her lingerie
rabid
Chewing on the seam
Tearing it in two

Behind those flesh curtains
On the small of her back
Was a series of double A batteries.