10-13-2017, 10:25 AM
Todd: Your final stanza is like icing on a cake. Good poem, great finish.
The real creation
The brothers score some very vicious P.
The club-house reeks, but they can’t smell a thing.
There’s sweat, and piss in corners, dirty feet,
miasmic rot, like teeth and sulphur springs.
Young Tane’s task; he has to fuck the girl
who’s buried in the dirt before the door.
Initiation’s tough - give it a whirl!
and poke some life back in her, like before.
Her puapua opened up, she slept
as in he slipped, and pumped, until his seed
passed into her. He hardly paused, but kept
on rutting, ‘til she stirred, and gave a sneeze.
So P created women from the earth
to live in Gangland, serve the men, give birth
The real creation
The brothers score some very vicious P.
The club-house reeks, but they can’t smell a thing.
There’s sweat, and piss in corners, dirty feet,
miasmic rot, like teeth and sulphur springs.
Young Tane’s task; he has to fuck the girl
who’s buried in the dirt before the door.
Initiation’s tough - give it a whirl!
and poke some life back in her, like before.
Her puapua opened up, she slept
as in he slipped, and pumped, until his seed
passed into her. He hardly paused, but kept
on rutting, ‘til she stirred, and gave a sneeze.
So P created women from the earth
to live in Gangland, serve the men, give birth