Friday, May 5, 2017

a fucking poem

this fucking man had a fucking fetish
saying ‘fuck’ made his underwear wet-ish
you see, he loved to use the fucking ‘f’ word
he dropped it easy like a hot fucking turd
he first said ‘fuck’ when he opened his eyes
aye when he saw a fresh fucking sunrise
he loved his cup of Earl-fucking-Grey tea
why, even the Earl wasn’t as fucking cool as he
he loved a fucking long warm shower
and how it made his wee-wee fucking tower
he loved his fucking eggs, toast and ham
but could never digest a fucking traffic jam
he said ‘fuck’ when he didn’t give a fuck
and ‘fuck fuck’ when he wanted good luck
he once said ‘fucking cool’ to an old priest
who told him he’d just turned fucking atheist
and he never found it the least fucking odd
when he said ‘fucking cool’ to another who found God
his heart never bled; it fucking broke
he never wanted ciggies; he wanted a fucking smoke
he never had sex; he made fucking love
he never questioned; he asked, ‘fucking how?’
well, the fucking man was anything but a fucking fool
he never dropped fucks just to look fucking cool
and he never dropped fucks because he was cheap
in fact, he offered them because he was fucking deep
he knew fucks were soul-glue; they made emotions stick
‘fuck’ gave words feelings; made them fucking epic.


ram cobain

(Pic courtesy Google)