A Dirty Pussy Ditty
It Is Better If You Sing It
You can sing this verselet like the song, "My Favorite Things" by Julie Andrews (The Sound of Music).
Sap drops on noses and squirts on some faces,
Crap-coloured tresses and loosely hooked braces,
Skin-fabric outfits supported with strings,
These are a few of my favourite things.
Gals in clear getups with red golden claspers,
Long pricks that pile up in hallways and dumpsters,
Sucking parched lips that eat pussy in swigs,
These are a few of my favourite things.
Double-crossed asses and ironed-out panties,
Anus and pussy and pee-covered Dantes,
Sweet pussies parting with sap on their rings,
These are a few of my favourite things.
When the breast swings,
When the hand brings,
When I cannot sling,
I simply remember these favourite things
And I always cling.
About the Creator
Patrick M. Ohana
A medical writer who reads and writes fiction and some nonfiction, although the latter may appear at times like the former. Most of my pieces (over 2,200) are or will be available on Shakespeare's Shoes.
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Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson4 days ago in Fiction
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