phillip whiteman

(if you didn't know how old you were, how old would you be.? / Portsmouth...England)

Massaged boy


So of course he was addicted,
If massage was a lesson in school,
He would’ve picked it.

All his pocket money went to the local masseuse.
His mother was angry
She threw a fit like Zeus

Then she tried it and became the same.
It was her sons fault
In her eyes he was to blame.

He tried to run but she went berzerk,
She shouted “I’M NOT DOING ANY HOUSE WORK! ”

There was no food on the table and no clean clothes.
Her husband said “this marriage is full of burnt oaths.”

She went mad and her husband left her,
She saw only red
her vision was a blur

In a rage she put her son under a steam roller
he was happy he told her,
this is where he died at ease
getting his heavy final squeeze.

Submitted: Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Edited: Friday, September 29, 2006
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  • Mary Nagy (10/19/2005 7:59:00 AM)

    Well, I've never had a real massage but you do make it sound tempting. Another fun poem Phillip. Sincerely, Mary (Report) Reply

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