Saturday, February 11, 2012


Parallel Universe. 22

I am dancing along the edge of a Man Abyss
Obsessed with sensuality and Sin
Looking for a hole that hasn't been used by a Mole
Which I can fall out of, soon as I have fallen in.

For that gentleman waiting in Oslo
Who's invited me to come and dance there
I can dance quite erottish and even a Schottische
I can dance anything but a square.

And Oh! For the lure of that Roman of Fur
Who shows me his penetrable aperture
I may hustle my fatty can right down to the Vatican
In pursuit of that ineluctable lure.

I am Laurence Olivier come to the dance
He has just abdicated the Throne
He must cope with the Show known as Marilyn Monroe
He also must cope with his bone

Marilyn swings him into a Waltz
With her dazzling beauty and American schmaltz
They whirl with the beat of their twinkling feet
And she feels up his principal pulse.

He's aware of the din that he feels from within
He's felt better; but never much worse
She allows him to lead with the surge of his seed
And like Olivier; I can reverse.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

MEN ARE SUCH PIGS by D. Doph (Wagenblatz)

Parallel Universe. 20

"Men are such pigs" I heard the woman say
Quoth she, as she fed turkey into her face
At the end of a life where it had all fallen into place
She had told the dogs to SIT; all they could do is STAY.

So it is with women who live their lives without men
Casting eyes back over eons of man-domination
Vaginas writhing in divine frustration
Their women were had in ecstasy
Their men mislaid in a bog or fen

This woman could be my own grandmom
Recognize the eyes Pale blue, intense
Brimming with distrust and intelligence
Treading through life with alarm and aplomb

Once I would have been her backdoor dog
Treading my sticky way through that fen or bog
Rushing from any woman who felt like a wife
Holding onto my precious penis for its life

I could never be some tiny flickering star
Content to be worshipped from afar
Much rather be thought extremely queer
To be worried and worshipped from anear

Now I've pumped up my Improper German
Belt my lines like Ethel Merman
But I'd never be a pain like a Cain named Herman
As they press their lipstickless lips to mine
And whisper sweetly, "Men are such swine".

Friday, January 13, 2012


Parallel Universe . 19

Encountered Miss Wanda in Sixty-two
She had just come down from the sticks
Wondered how any chick with such a big mouth
Could ever get herself into the mix
She showed us what the mouth was meant for
As she sunk right down onto her knees
What we didn't understand when she used her free hand
Was her absolute refusal to please

Then her opposite number Miss Hilly
Exploded on us like a bat out of hell
Miss Hill made us all feel like a Son of a Deal
and a morally reprehensible smell

So I threw myself at the stud tops
Whom I thought could please us all three
Miss Wanda got the meat, Miss Hill got the slops
As they worked their way back to dear little me

So it has gone through these forty-five years
Wanda worked her way down to the Big Easy
She sat on some glories and gross ejaculatories
That would make any one of us queasy

Hill married the beefy bear down from the hills
Who took my butt cherry on graduation night
She threw him over for a toe dancing dwarf
Who could never put up much of a fight

They criscrossed their way in and out of my existence
From Staten Island to West Hollywood Adjacent
They stamped and they screamed , made me wonder what I'd dreamed
Never could settle for being complacent

Finally I realized they had no room for my head
Or my feet (increasingly feeling like lead)
They were much more like Mars very little like Venus
When I knew what they wanted to be was my penis

So farewell to Miss Hill; you never gave me a thrill
Never gave much but a skinful of wounds
Farewell to Miss fey little W J
All I can say is, Dear Mesdames, godzounds,

After forty-five years, this fond farewell, my dears,
Only gives me the chills while I part with the Hots
And the clammy aftertaste of a terrible waste
balancing off you two incorrigible twats.