Warning: the following poem and its accompanying Snapchat video contains crass humor, sexual references, and strong language. Reader/viewer discretion is advised.

© Jane Bled 2016-2017
All Rights Reserved


To market, to market
To buy a cracked egg…
Home again,
Home again,
Make a slave’s wage.

Extra, extra!
Read all about it!
Did you hear the news?
The town crier shouted:
“She bears little resemblance to me,
This snazzy bushwhacker,
Bedazzled in topaz;
Tokin’ up peridot,
Brazenly ravishing
Burlesque arabesques–
Can’t do the splits to save my life!”

Cockeyed bust
(Snarky lust)
Swigging cotton wires
From snaggletoothed smiles…
All the while,
Fattening up in the fryer.

But derogatory inflammation
Don’t bode well with docile subordination.
Whose spell spins yarn brighter than gold?
(Who burned the hasty pudding?)
Ask about the joint she rolled.

Tell you what:
Little do I care to know the details;
Nor the ins and outs
Thrust between velvet rapiers
(One size does not fit all).
Masturbatory melodrama
Masquerades as operatic tragedy.
And honestly,
It bores the hell out of me.

No, thanks.
Ain’t my thing,
Chicken Wing.
I’ll stick to spaghetti Westerns,
And masticate

*licks lips*


A file from the naughty folder. Thanks to my friend (you know who you are) for providing the background vocals. It’s all in good fun. 😘