December 6, 2017

Poetry: “Piggy”

Ahem!

Smoker-cough hack,
But she’s got a nice rack.
Her ass:
A perfect place
To hang your hat.
Treat her like a doormat?
Well,
Little brat’s
Gonna backstab you back.

Cut the bindings,
Slap the fat,
Temper the cracks–
Gimme the Mack truck treatment
In the sack!
Whack-A-Mole, no tact…
Ain’t nuthin’ wrong wit dat.
(Once you go black,
You never go back)

Here, piggy, piggy, piggy!
Eat up your slop, Haystack!
Throw leftovers in the pot
With dish-dash of this
And a drip-drop of that–
Feed it to the manky masses
Feenin’ for a phat Big Mac;
Make sticky stacks of cash.
(Your body’s not built to last
Through the next atomic blast)
*Tummy rumbles, thunder-crash*

When you’re rolling in the mud,
Just be sure to wipe your ass,
Or the dung will taint the grass.
Nuzzle up,
Dig in deep.
Get yourself clean,
Or Mom might freak.
I heard she likes it doggy-style
Throw it down,
Pile-driver.
Your battering ram’s
Like the pounding in her head.
Break down the padlocked door;
Deliver Daddy’s daily bread.

Pop ‘n’ lock the pop rocks.
Drop acid in the crockpot.
Chain Christy Kitty to the floor–
You know she always purrs for more
When you label her a whore…
But feeding pigs is such a chore
To a friendly feline keeping score
For Madonna of the boring boars.

***

“Piggy” 
© Jane Bled 2016-2017
All Rights Reserved.
F52A728E-988C-4C77-A96C-97A0D88D60D7

Head of the table © Breanne Beals

About Jane Bled

Human. Happy in my solitude. Free of expectations. Awakening. Light side: love, peace, art. Dark side: ****** I despise the word 'follower'. It calls to mind lemmings, sheep, cults, etc. Here to exhibit my art -- not aiming to gain a flock of seagulls that mournfully cry out my name as they fail to reach me.

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All Things Jane Bled, Free, Poetry, Writing

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