I just had to get these poems out of the way before I could sleep. They're offensive. Very. Extremely. If you're offended. Write me a comment. Sorry. Shield your eyes. Look, away, children, look away.

Mother's Day not terribly offensive, this one

I guess I get a little angry around Mother's day.

Always trying to make
the right mother,
the right mother's
day gift.

Always trying to write
for mother,
always trying to be
right for mother,
always trying to write
"Mother"
after she has fallen down.

Fallen down into
the ground
where someone wrote
"mother" on the stone.

Leave no stone unturned
looking for Mother.
The right mother.
The gift.

_____________

And yet more offensive:

Confessions of a Sex Addict

Okay I admit:
Yesterday, I had two.
Two, two times each.
And the day before that six.
Divided by...
I'm not sure how many.
Three I think.

Then it starts multiplying exponentially.
A cell dividing,
a spongy octagon gaining sides, planes,
dimensions until it mushrooms.

Blooms into sight --
the melting tip of the iceberg,
spilling off a cock,
any cock
really,
or every cock
(There's such a thing
as the everyman, isn't there)
so this is the everycock,
just your ordinary average joe cock,
except multiply that by fifty
and you'd have my week, or the start
of my week --
this bouquet
of dicks
flowering with sperm,
their throbbing, sweet little heads
pink hearts
upside down.

It's the numbers that get me off.
1 a day plus iron.
2 a day keeps the doctor away.
3 a day and I'm too
sore to sit
but I'm happy
happy
happy
happy
happy
happy.

__________

And stretches the bounds of good taste and sense further:

My TV

My TV is not only my best friend, it's my lover.
I stick my
fingers into the electronic goo
that lubricates the wires and plugs
and chips and gears and
I moan with the mutual excitement of it,
Like I'm sticking my tongue in my girlfriend's cunt
or my thumb up my boyfriend's ass.
Getting "in" to a body
is such a turn-on for me
I start shaking.
My pussy swells until my lips
are like cantalope halves between my legs.

My TV used to do that to me,
when I could tell it was really excited,
when I put away the remote and got up close and personal.

It would start winking its screen at me.
Sparks flew. Fireworks.
We understood each other, my TV and me.

I would run my tongue over its attenae
and go down on it,
The channels switching
spontaneously.
We had chemistry.

But then the VCR came
and things got complicated.