the weeper reaper

Death knocked on the geriatric’s door and said

By this time now you should have long been dead

By this time I’ve harvested a hundred thousand souls

A paltry few saints and countless assholes

I’ve worked through the week and also 24x7

Balanced the blighted books between hell and heaven

I’ve seen sure rains fail and blue skies cry

I’ve watched liars be honest and good men lie

I’ve seen terrorists be loud and governments be quiet

I’ve watched obese men binge and thin women diet

I’ve seen inflation go up and morality take a tumble

I’ve watched the poor be happy and rich men grumble

Aye I’ve seen dinosaurs born and seen them disappear

With nary one Neanderthal to shed them one tear

But your case laughs at my resume, a leery rictus grin

Like on a baby’s soft bottom, a roiling rusty pin

For now I’m at the end of my tether, and all that I ask

Is that I may please fulfill this long-promised task

You asked me for one last wish so many moons ago

But how was I to know…you piddle so slow?

ram cobain

a grave solution

the corpse woke up with a raging hard on

and found that his left hand was gone

for between happy chomps and hearty chews

malignant maggots had munched it through

he grimaced and turned to the other side

and promptly wished he’d again had died

for the fingers that were to be on his right

was similarly and sadly out of sight

oh how he cursed the wretched worms

pondered passionately about his surfeit sperm

throbbing and tense, thus did he mull

till a grin soon spread across his skull

for he realized that within these coffined walls

what he lacked in limb he made up in balls

and so with a flippant toss and a flirty lob
he detached his head for a self blow job.

ram cobain

musick

 

not everyone is gifted; born with a beat

with a whiskey throat or a larynx sweet

not all of us can strum the guitar

stroll up on stage, become rock star

yes, most of us can’t time the drums

or join mid-verse and begin to hum

aye we can’t even try to hold a tune

grab a mike and dare to croon

but fret not dearie – there’s good news

(for happiness comes to those who choose)

so what if you aren’t born with a musical ear

there are rhythms aplenty in your rear

note, the rectum comes with a hole to fart

a DIY design that turns biology to art

so poke in a finger the next time you toot

and hallelujah become the Human Flute.

ram cobain

oh gawd!

there was once this wily old hag

who grabbed at a lad’s scrotum bag

said: “Do the fucketty-fuck with me

I’ll squeeze out a yes if ye disagree.”

the boy replied: “Ouch, granny, you’re so sick

shouldn’t you be holding a rosary instead of dick?”

she smiled: “Why don’t ye make me scream for god

with thy balls of steel and thy iron rod?”

saying thus she tightened her grip

wet her legs and also her lips

and so the lad said his own prayer

dropped his jeans and another layer

shut his mind and closed his eyes

got it up doggedly after 17 tries
she giggled: “I’m not thy sister, hold me close

haven’t ye heard of the missionary pose?”

and so the lad did as he was told

while the hag she rollicked and rolled

till finally she screamed out sweet Jesus

and came roaring with fluid and feces

and just as the sod thought the worst was up

she reached below and again she cupped

panted: “True the lord may treat me unkind

but meanwhile I want ye in my behind.”

ram cobain

a dick of a tale

here beneath this marble stone
lies a man whose penis still groans

for his is the pecker that knew no fail

but then this isn’t your ordinary tale

though he was born your regular boy

who played his wee-wee like a happy toy

he first saw the glimmer of heaven

when he was but a child of seven

he alarmed his family in the room

when he grabbed it like it were a broom

ma whhhat’s this, he croaked a stammer

as he flashed his thing as hard as a hammer

Richard you dirty dog, she loudly gasped

as she spotted what his fingers clasped

and thus from a moment of innocent shame

firmed up this story of inglorious fame

y’see she’d scared him into a tight rod

that made nannies faint with an oh-my-gawd

and though negroes dared as black as coal

none could match the steel of his pole

it barged and burst out of his pants

like an iron file of marching ants

the worst was when he had to pee

t’was like unzipping an old oak tree

he tried dipping it in burning hot oil

anything to make it shock and recoil

next he dreamed of ugly naked hags

but still his pagan pillar never did sag

It stayed frozen through blizzard and twister

and grinned back at him ‘Howdy Mister?’

years passed on in this lurid way

his pubes turning from black to grey

but even though his skin grew old

the warmth in his loins never went cold

days thus passed till one day he died

after 78 long hours of masturbation tried

thus he went, though he still never came

his shaft staying stoic just the same

and when they lowered him into his grave

it peeked-a-boo and seemed to wave

thus in respect – and the name did stick

they changed his epitaph from Richard to Dick

ram cobain

a pressing matter

one day after a coughing fit
timmy realized that instead of shit
what came out from his ass
were tired clouds of wispy gas
how he struggled, how he tried
(into his butt cheeks his fingers pried)
but nary one nugget of gold
would into his desperate hands enfold
he wondered about this strange caper
(at least it saved him toilet paper)
dejected, he unzipped to pee
so pray imagine his insane glee
when from his pecker, without a pause
oozed steamy pungent mustard-like sauce.

ram cobain

hand it to her

cross my heart, ‘tis the truth
summers ago, in my youth
I saw a really fat bitch
reaching out for an itch
she was acres of droopy skin
sewed over a municipal bin
her pupils shut in reverie
her hand extended in glee
her stubby finger stabbed
at some crevice in the flab
back and forth, to and fro
her painted nails did grope
like a pet at a door latched
her fingers barked and scratched
was it her front, or was it behind
my sleuth eyes could not find
her nose grunted, her body heaved
oh why and woe, that I perceived
I gasped, I choked, I wish I’d died
as I saw her elbow slip inside

ram cobain

mr. hangover

he tiptoes in as a dull ache
alive, breathing, as the eyes slowly wake
whispering, “guess who’s here, o’ ol’ friend
was passing by, with some time to spend.”
you close your eyes, tightly shut
praying you could pray him away, but
the knock grows louder and you know
it’ll be a while before he’ll go
he smiles as he comes in, and you frown
wishing hard you were in another town
“you forgot all about me, but i thought of you
well now i’m here, so howdy ye do?”
he settles in easy, in the armchair of your head
like a weary voyager eager to be fed
you shrug, get up and make some tea
hoping a cup will make him leave
it’s strong, heady, but so is he
talkative, lazy and in no particular hurry
you excuse yourself and wash your face
he says, “it’s fine, take your time, I like this place”
you dress for work, but he doesn’t take the hint
like an unwelcome relative on an unwelcome stint
office is office, but he insists on coming along
graciously saying, “don’t mind me, just carry on”
the hours tick quietly, but your temple gongs loud
someone’s learnt a new trick, and isn’t he proud
he says, “I’ll sing you a song that only you can hear
isn’t that a lark, what do you say o’ dear?”
as the song ends, he belts out the encore
saying, “no that wasn’t the last tune, here’s one more”
you reach out for water, and the Dispirin shelf
he thanks you, says, “Was thirsty myself”
you grab a bite, you go squat in the loo
and when you wash up, he’s still with you
you search for deliverance, and you find him
the man’s as persistent as a foolish whim
defeated, you limp back on one leg
cursing why you had that one peg
and like a repeat offender on his repeat crime
you vow that last night was the last time
till tomorrow comes, bright and cheery
and you say, “Mr. Hangover, so who’s he?”

acch who?

what would the gods say
if one wintry day
a virus daring, bold
were to give them a cold
pray would it be
a simple ‘excuse me’
and would the reply due
be a ‘god bless you’

ram cobain

of XX and why why

it’s not the make up
or that bad hair do
not the pearl necklace
or that garish tube
it’s not the vampire-red nails
or the clackety heels
it’s not the overripe zit
or the poor sex appeal
it’s not the yellow handbag
or that grating giggle
it’s not the sagging tits
or the big butt wiggle
for what about you
makes me really sick
is more complicated
it’s called ‘genetic’.

ram cobain

hail musketeers!

if all the world’s people
farted all at once
would the gas thus emitted
blur a thousand suns?

and if they collectively unzipped
cocked in urinary motion
would the water so released
drown out the pacific ocean?

for in unity there’s strength
so speaketh the proverb old
and the planetary possibilities of shit
might lower the value of gold.

ram cobain

touche

lady, you’re a feminist
ranted the chauvinist
only a woman’d believe
adam was done by eve
the feminist in reply
said you’re a typical guy
true, yes, adam put it in
but before you start to grin
without eve, you’d grapple
today in bed with a rosy apple.

ram cobain

the priest

he walks to the altar, tall and proud
smiling kindly at the fortunate crowd
and so he begins the saviour’s story
his arms high with their own sweet glory
he’s different, he’s the special one
chosen to do that which has to be done
his robes, long and blessed white
now cloak now reveal his holy might
he clears his throat and then begins
and grants release from their sins
his rich baritone touches the ceiling
and swells his chest with divine feeling
“His is the way but I am the talk
and these misled poor are our flock”
thus he polishes his halo into lovely gold
yet all they see is a man silly old.

ram cobain

to beer

today my friend, I needed you most

you – the messiah and also the toast

you’re the spirit to whom I didn’t pray

merciful redeemer of a long lost day

and while nary a word did pass your lip

I clearly heard your gospel sip by sip

you preach not of demons and gods

but of mortals and monsters flawed

you remind me that I’m still strong

that a fresh morrow lingers long

you’re a friend’s hand on the arm

much better cold than slightly warm

you turn my anger into an ache

into something surreal and almost fake

you remind me how it is to smile

how a throat tastes without the bile

you tell me that for all my pain

I should remember my hops and grain

and that malted barley may not be wine

but by sweet Jesus, it’ll do just fine.

ram cobain

tough month at work

I see so many stars

That I could be on Mars
But for what it's worth
I'm still here on Earth
With fireworks coming out of my arse

ram cobain

goo gaa argh

admittedly this is a crazy world

check now the story of this girl

she loved to fart into baby balloons

that too is different nursery tunes

said twinkle twinkle little star

if you smell this don’t you drive the car

jack and jill went up the hill

this gassy cloud can maim and kill

johnny johnny yes old pop

press the red button for me to stop

baba black sheep have you any wool

excuse me dearie coz my rectum’s full

humpty dumpty sat on a wall

his flatulence made the horses fall

and thus each balloon had a tale to tell

each when burst did reek of hell

till one day she met a prince

who kissed her lips only to wince

he said your explosions of kiddy rhyme

are far worse than a murderer’s crime

they may make the toddler sleep

but only after much a woeful weep

in reply she farted right into his nose

‘twas a bolt of lightning up his toes

and though he was the best of men

he joined her there with paper and pen

ram cobain

not so girly

The sweet cute girl she dug her nose

scratched her crotch and tugged a hose

she let a long fart and burped out free

had too many beers and pissed on a tree

she abused someone’s mom and then someone’s dad

not from anger but just ‘cause she was glad

she did all this and some things more gross

things unfit for poetry or even prose

what’s worse is she wasn’t nuts or even high

I think she was trying to just be a guy

ram cobain

timmy

I warn you this tale can be quite gross
It’s about Timmy who loved to pick his nose
You’d say we all do it once in a while
But Timmy, the boy, did he have style
What set him apart was his wondrous zeal
His love to excavate fresh before a meal
He would wash his hands not after but first
And then select pods just about to burst
His fingers would find the gooiest piece
With happy instinct honed from expertise
Again and again and always without fail
He would only grab those that left a trail
He likened them to mozzarella cheese
Smooth, sticky and salty as you please
He would oft let the loose end hang
Like an evil wolf’s glistening white fang
Then he’d swing his head from left to right
And watch the snot ball dance in flight
Sometimes he’d make cute little figurines
As flesh and blood as you’d ever seen
He heated six months worth on a nonstick pan
And made his masterpiece, the Booger Man
Later still, he rolled it into a neat brown ball
Tossed it, chewed it and smiled “that’s all!”
But it was the encore that made you sick
What Timmy called his ol’ bubblegum trick.

ram cobain

born chivalrous

a newborn in the hospital crib
poked his neighbour in the rib
gurgled this may be a wrong time
but I have to apprise you of a crime
while you were asleep they quietly stole
and left you with that gaping hole
she gasped, how did they ever pinch
something smaller than half an inch
now pray what am I supposed to do
(I don’t suppose you might have two?)
shattered thus, she began to cry
weeing and waaing and wanting to die
the first one, gallant, said I’m there
worry not dearie, we’ll simply share

ram cobain

sniff sniff

naphthalene balls in the urinal stare
like pleading eyeballs in pink despair
kindred soul, o’ drench us not
and pray pity this cold we’ve caught

ram cobain

not so lovely

enchantress, seductress of beauty rare
ask may I a question that I only just dare
when your bowels groan in nature’s call
does it stink like the rest of us all?

ram cobain

really the pits

her flowing armpit hair
got her many a second stare
and when it was sultry hot
a sniff was greedily sought
from a dozen moons away
men tottered with purses to pay
they’d wash copper at her feet
for a hint of her musky treat
and such was her delicious spell
like drunkards by the road they fell
they’d fight to be the first one to
get happily high on her sweaty glue
aah one dose felt like pure cocaine
and two could drive a man insane
some were zonked enough to kill
anyone who interfered armpit and nostril
between joyous groans and wistful sighs
the lady cleverly upped her price
she chirped “it’s fifty dollars per inhale”
as she raised her arms to a stinky-rich sale
the business woman never gave a discount
whether one came on foot or by mount
whether one had millions or worked on a farm
“cash first” hung bold from her underarm
men moaned by her armpits and wept
as they fell hair-raisingly into debt
the nation cried, the nation rued
and cursed the potion that fetidly brewed
but like a never-forgotten childhood tale
status quo for years prevailed
till one broke but vengeful nosy parker
made good with a Luxor marker
thus Income Tax got a whiff of her braids
and daringly did a reeking raid
they stuck gas masks over their noses
wore cologne vests and held fresh roses
sadly for the missus, she’d never declared
the actual length of her armpit hair
they yelled from far “put your hands up, honey
this ain’t hair but silky black money!”
and as disbelief on her face did hover
they called for a sharp lawn mower.

ram cobain

the uncut version

brave Thakur from Sholay
cried out in dismay
when his hands were severed
and dropped like big brown turds
he rued “Gabbar, you robber
now you I can’t even clobber!”
the dacoit grinned and said
“though you’d prefer me dead
I’ll surrender to you alive
if you give me a high five”
so when Thakur got back
he prayed for a heart attack
for he felt like a prize fool
like Nat Geo’s stupidest mule
especially when a beggar begged for alms
or the astrologer asked for his palm
or when his gym coach asked him to flex
or whenever he saw his Rolex
and during occasions festive
he felt he didn’t want to live
like when it was rakhi
and he had to offer his knee
or when he ordered his beer
he couldn’t clink and do cheers
but yet he was stoically fine
till the waiter asked for his sign
and he felt it quite wrong
when on a really tough song
Indian Idol thought he was a lousy singer
and he couldn’t show them the finger
and his heart quivered and broke
as he heard even sardars joke
for how could it ever be right
to say Thakur wasn’t cut out for a fight?
and woe, when he wanted to scratch
his long leonine pubic patch
for he had to go shamefully rub
against a nearby neighbourhood shrub
and though he wasn’t one to fuss
he didn’t quite like the cactus
or the mongrels who’d gape in awe
at this critter without a paw
and he couldn’t even hurl a stone
or call the dog pound on his phone
and he remembered the disgrace
when a mosquito sat on his face
and bit and buzzed in his ear
and flew off wiggling its rear
next, he realized she was the wrong girl
when for his gift of glittering pearls
his fiancée bought him a cheap ring
and laughed as he stared at the thing
worse was how he dripped in the hall
from 365x24x7 nightfalls
as it’d been a really long wait
since he last did masturbate
and the bigger, seminal issue
was that he couldn’t reach for the tissue
and yes, he felt very shitty
when he was asked to be the celebrity
as Nokia advertised with glee
for their new innovative hands free
and yet for all this, deep inside
there still raged his fiery pride
and he’d give his right arm to have slapped
anyone who called him handicapped.

ram cobain

positively racist

if the silver lining appears black
maybe you’re staring up a nigger’s crack

ram cobain

the bald truth

I’m losing hair
but no, not there

ram cobain

superiority complex

the imbecile asked the fool
where he went to school

ram cobain

bloody hell

I thought she’d lost her senses
when she licked her own menses
she saw me gape and stare
like a deer caught in high-beam glare
with ruby-rich painted lips
and red dripping fingertips
she sighed, made a funny face
and said, “It’s just one of those days.”

ram cobain

missing mrs.

I’ve heard of these horny old gals
who befriend students but not as pals
but though I thought I was quite cool
I never saw any while I was in school

ram cobain

alarm bells

the corpse woke up dead
wondered, scratched his head
“have I missed some warning
or is it just Monday morning?”

ram cobain

wake up call

the spook got scared
as he fearfully stared
into the mirror and said
“god, I’m dead”.

ram cobain

first erection

the little boy
grew a new toy

ram cobain

dirge in the desert

one day the fugitive Osama
cried out for his mama
that infidel, by George
into his ass I’ll forge
the stars and the spangles
and dance as they jangle
he tugged his dirty beard
and as a dozen lice cleared
said, I pine to see Shakira
instead of Al-Jazeera
it’s not in my psyche
but I feel like I’m from Nike
y’see, I’ve been on the run
for over fifty a burning sun
I spray my piss on the sand
and can’t wash my hand
I crap a great golden dune
like king Midas the loon
and instead of toilet paper
I use prickly Cactus tapers
oh how it bloody hurts
my bum pimples spurt
and it does me vex
to see camels having sex
god, send me a fair maiden
for my willy’s long Been Laden

ram cobain

eau-de-cobain

I look down into the toilet well
and see debris rising swell
I sniff and quickly get drunk
on a smell that’d stun a skunk
cloying hard like butcher’s room
I inhale and roll and imbibe the fume
and as befitting my celebrity stature
I recognize my royal signature
my eyes water and I start to cough
as I proudly approach Davidoff

ram cobain

song for Sivaji

Superman forgot how to fly
Jackie Chan how to kick high
Neo how to play sunglass cool
Harry spells at magic school
Spidey lost the art of the web
the Black Bat’s powers began to ebb
He-Man’s muscles started to shrink
Dexter lost the will to think
James Bond spilled his Martini
Pedro couldn’t upright his weenie
Ali dropped his knockout punch
Popeye threw up his lovely lunch
Holmes couldn’t crack the case
and George Bush mended his ways
the day they stopped to see
the one, the only, Superstar Rajni

ram cobain

the player

the horny old man
with his rheumy eyes scanned
the pages of Penthouse
but like a dead mouse
his wrinkled member
like a leaf in December
lay fallen, forgotten
decaying, rotten
he yanked and twirled
conjured a past world
when for a mere 10-minute toil
he could dig out even oil
when crowds would pay to feel
12” of his feared steel
when for a bet he was able
to levitate the dinner table
and colony brats would swing
happily from his massive thing
when bullies would flee
as he unzipped to pee
and maidens would swoon
at the sight of his boon
he recalled the seminal best
of his youthful conquests
when he ruled all fanny
did girl, ma and granny
and today at 84
he prayed for an encore
silently, his wife looked on
and said maturely, “john”
as her whisky she poured
“where’s the chess board?”

ram cobain

the inspiration

sir robert the bruce
like a loony recluse
sat in a musty cave
dank like a watery grave
he let out a garrulous groan
for his ass was hard as stone
and hungry and broke
with neither fries nor a coke
his eyes gazed the ceiling
and set his head reeling
his orbs grew wider
for he’d spied a spider
it inched upon the rock
like a pretty girl’s short frock
dizzying tall and higher
like a tale told by a liar
when centimeters from the top
it suddenly braked to a stop
it tottered there and fell
like a drunk in the village well
and landed by his feet
woefully forlorn in defeat
robert looked at the spider
wondered what was inside her
he squashed it to a pulp
chewed, swallowed and gulped
and when it was finally over
fear over him did hover
for was this to be his story
of nary heroics nor glory
for one measly meal
would his legendom be sealed
and thus as he achingly fretted
in excitement his pants he wetted
as he hit upon a master plan
and wrote the script for Spiderman.

ram cobain

man to man

I confess it’s weird
to spot a girl with a beard
and to see her flash
a budding moustache.

ram cobain

limer icky

yelled the wood to the axe
what’s with all these whacks
for god’s sake
I’m getting a headache
can’t a tree quietly relax?

------

the thorn proposed the porcupine
if I were to honestly opine
you’re a beautiful lass
but what’s that on your ass
all sticking out in a line?

------

the body enquired of the grave
I may sound like a knave
but do you think they’d be happy
if I make it sweet and snappy
and poke out for one last wave?

------

the victim threatened the noose
quickly, before I blow my fuse
loosen these knots
It’s getting real hot
or should I cook your goose?

------

rambled the drunk to the gutter
what’s with that stupid stutter
stop your din
my head already spins
nary a word shall you utter!

------

cried the dick to the hand
why don’t you understand
that it’s not nice
to be surprised
and made to suddenly stand.

------

the philanderer begged his wife
I swear upon my life
my ways I’ll mend
I won’t screw your friend
so put away that knife

------

optimism told fate
you’re really great
you’re Destiny
but I think you’re plan B
and this time you’re late.

------

reed complained to grass
it’s such a farce
we both grow in dirt
on lovely planet earth
so how come you fly ‘em to mars?

------

the mouse turned to the cat
and wondered to him that
how in a world so vast
he didn’t have any class
and still chased rats?

------

Romeo to Juliet
how can I forget?
your blue eyes
your loving sighs
your sexy friend Georgette?

------

ass laughed at tissue
I’m mightier than you
on your face I slap
my foulest fetid crap
and get away too!

------

wolf to little red riding hood
offered, “if only you would
give me a blow
and then swallow
I won’t have you for food.”

------

song told limerick
you untalented prick
your 5 stanza rhymes
nary worth a duplicate dime
god, you make me sick

limerick replied to song
that’s where you’re wrong
with your repetitive chorus
oh how you bore us
you’re garrulously long!

------

the world told me
your effortless poetry
makes our day
and so we pray
for a longer verse to see

ram cobain

water water everywhere

I’ve nourished wild shrubs
filled up hotel bathtubs
dribbled in swimming pools
and in pretty girl loos
I’ve performed encores
on unfriendly neighbour doors
sprinkled park walls
and floors of cinema halls
I’ve diluted rum punches
sprayed on rose bunches
pittered on a colleagues cars
and under moonlit stars
diligently hosed toothbrushes
and public toilet flushes
I’ve spelt out my name
played longest shooter games
I've manufactured my beer
sunshine yellow and frothy clear
spring, summer or sylvan fall
I’ve stood tall and done it all
and if you want to meet this male
I suggest you simply follow the trail.

ram cobain

test tickle

pray what’s the catch
that men like to scratch
their hairy balls as though
it’d make them grow?

will tugging ‘em hard
like a string-strumming bard
quickly make each one
as big as the sun?

will a spirited public display
of loudly yanking the hay
make the harvest bloom
right out of underwear room?

will pinching them with love
like a surgeon’s deft glove
make the twain realize
they were made for XL size?

will rubbing them with pride
like saint with nothing to hide
and cupping them in one hand
save them from getting tanned?

but from my experience
the only thing that makes sense
is that between finger and thumb
lies heaven worthy to succumb.

ram cobain

and in the same breath

frankly, sweet honey
choose your alimony
take my guitar
drive my new car
sell all the cows
keep the penthouse
sleep with the guard
use my credit cards
shop away my fortune
unleash your goons
anything, so I needn’t kiss
that mouthful of halitosis.

ram cobain

burst that bubble

say dearie, why all this fuss
over a pimple filled with pus?
squeeze it and let it ooze
or put it to some better use
oil it, massage it, let it grow
till your face can no longer show.

ram cobain

cry for cotton

two teenage bales of cotton
were talking about life being rotten
said one, my father was quite a stud
before he became an ear bud
quietly sniffled back the other
that’s nothing, you know mother?
wispy, dainty, she was so white
till she got plugged in tight
she turned into a tampon, you see
and so for her my heart does bleed.

ram cobain

the gutsy girl

no she wasn’t my pal
but I knew this one gal
who one day puked so hard
that she threw up her innards
they coiled up on the kitchen floor
like rattlesnakes in sleepy snore
she wanted to scream for christian help
but could only manage a muffled yelp
for like a greedy brat too eager to dine
her mouth was filled with intestine
fat and wet like sausage rope
they were hard to hold, gooey to grope
and when she tried to push them in
they dodged and ran like naughty twins
she used the fork but they wouldn’t stay
like a restless mendicant on his way
fed up, she didn't know what to do
except this, that she immediately knew
it wouldn’t be polite to leave them on the ground
and so she called out for her hound.

ram cobain

3, 2, 1...

you may be Ferrari
but excuse me please
you ain't fast enough
to beat my sneeze.

ram cobain

steer clear

what if you were to sight
a car zipping wildly from left to right
would you think the driver was insane
or that he had never heard of lanes
would you believe it a hit-and-run case
or delinquent sons in a happy race
would you guess the driver had two blind eyes
or that the gravel turned suddenly to ice
would you sense he was an AA recruit
or a dutiful cop in hot pursuit
would you reflect he was speeding to poop
or he was a reporter chasing a fiery scoop
would you assume the brakes had died
or the driver was eloping with the bride
would you suppose it a doctor’s emergency call
or a prince late for Cinderella’s ball
one thing is sure, you couldn’t fail
if you thought the driver were female.

ram cobain

alcoholics synonymous

if I were to try and explain
in great detail and pain
the booze high to an abstinent
would it be time well spent?

for how can one describe
Shakespeare to a scribe
and how can one sell
a deaf man an extra-loud bell

please don’t laugh, my friend
for my heart cries to rend
a better example, a better way
to speak what the sip does say

is getting drunk a depressing vice
or is it happy like a Christmas surprise
is it finding that Santa lives
or that god actually forgives

is it the joy of feeling foolish
of speaking stupidly-sane gibberish
is it the finding of Samson-like strength
or unzipping an inch of sudden length?

or is it like a hearty dinner
or the burp of a well-fed sinner
is it like mouthing a favourite song
or an exam where you can’t go wrong

is it like fitting into tighter jeans
or quoting loved movie scenes
is it like meeting a childhood hero
or discovering there exists a zero

is it like a wallet full of cash
or a parent-free new year bash
is it the taste of a virgin kiss
or the release of a long-held piss

I for one don’t have the gall
to try and articulate alcohol
but one thing I’ve oft heard
a bottle speaks a thousand words.

ram cobain

wax eloquent

the energy crisis that looms
like a mushroom cloud of doom
won’t exist, if you care to hear
a far-reaching vision so clear

deep within your audio cave
resides the potent power to save
therein lies the strength to bear
and the virtuous might to repair

for just one scoop of earwax
daily paid per person as tax
would make soon a decent mound
towering 3 feet from the ground

imagine if you could know
an entire family’s outflow
filled in tasty mayonnaise jars
and dripping out of 5-seater cars

and what if the state were to contribute
generously to the government’s loot
they’d run out of warehouse space
with enough and more refills for days

now think of an entire country
self-sufficient with molten fuel free
the GDP would fly, the debt would disappear
straight out of the populace’s ears

ram cobain

heterosexual hypocrisy

if I were to have my say
I’d rule there’d be no more gays
no more lousy limp handshakes
no more barrel-chested fakes
no more men with dainty eyelashes
no more tweety-bird undie flashes
no more creepy crawly “hi”s
no more loving lingering goodbyes
no more pinks and pastel hues
no more pansy aahs and oohs
no more mano-a-mano games
no more throbbings in crowded trains
no more adams, no more steves
no more woosters, no more jeeves
the only exception to this decree, my friends
would of course be… for lesbians.

ram cobain

he with the three

I knew a man called ol’ billy
he was born with 3 willies
left, right, and one in the middle
t’was a sight to see him piddle
‘coz when he’d want to take a leak
he’d give each a li’l tweak
so see which one wanted to pee
eenie, mo or was it meenie
and he wore his Levis’
with nary one but 3 zip flies
and when he got a hard on
they lasted him from noon to dawn
and when his wife gave him a blow
t’was quite the magician’s show
for with her mouth bobbing on one
her ass and pussy too could have fun
and when he came t’was quite the sight
to see her lay painted in coppery white
and when old age finally took Billy
they sent his 3 dicks to Ripley’s
and if you think this story’s false
you ought to go see his six balls.

ram cobain

horror

neither beasts nor ogres nor demons old
nor werewolves nor vampires in the cold
nor curses nor hexes nor the evil eye
nor loud breathing nor laughter nor a dreary sigh
nor cemeteries nor graveyards nor open tombs
nor bathtubs nor aisles nor haunted rooms
nor footsteps nor thuds nor rattling keys
nor banshee wails nor rustling leaves
nor planchett papers nor ouija boards
nor malignant skeletons in cellars stored
nor fleeting shadows in fading light
nor forms nor figures in whispery white
nor evil dolls nor wooden toys
nor sweetly smiling Satan’s boys
nothing shortens my living days
like the scary sight of your hideous face

ram cobain

a man called Jim

come my friends, hear this tale
of ol’ man Jim from Lovelyassdale
a peculiar name for a town, you’d say
but he was a peculiar man, and he had his way
y’see ol’ man Jim, he owned the place
from east to west, till the cows could graze
aye, he was a good man too
as sweet as first winter’s dew
but this good man, had his quirks few
(like all gentlemen of his age do)
no it wasn’t gambling, liquor or any such vice
in hindsight, those might even be nice
y’see ol’ man Jim, he loved his wife’s bum
so much so, he called it his best chum
and when she walked, he eyed her backside
like an exhausted Da Vinci, beaming with pride
he loved to grab her when she wasn’t looking
when she was cleaning, when she was cooking
soon it started preying on his mind
this copious bulge of his missus’ behind
round, big, so very soft
like sweet hay in a dark barn loft
oh how he longed to clench those buns
and sink his teeth into each one
he touched them every chance he could
(even when he had to say “touchwood!”)
his wife, the good soul, she bore it all
even when he followed her to nature’s call
he watched her pee, he watched her poop
then wiped her lovingly with a saliva scoop
he watched her bathe, he soaped her there
and thanked the lord she had a pair
and when she snuggled up to him in bed
he flipped her on her stomach instead
he didn’t mind if she had the flu
did her with a polite “howdy do?”
he didn’t care if she had a headache
said, “there’s always aspirin for you to take”
he didn’t stop when she got the piles
that’s when the good wife finally got riled
so the next time that he reached for her lovely rump
she ran to the well, and in she jumped
and in her memory, he gave the town its name
but for ol’ man Jim, things haven’t been the same.

ram cobain