taboo words and such; speak fall from your lips
and silk french lacy panties there outside a face,
drive even most of us and even you, quite mad.
Do knickers look and feel the same, to they
whom trot around all day,
and sit where they should not.
For the bold ladies there are knuckles, Brutus
thick and tan engorged and full with blood.
Clumsy men dance around brushing, faking
gain st those lovely toes so full and fat.
And Bobalina..Bob..Bob..Bobalina...
where's your man..he's there out back...
You look around at all the rest...and..there
all looking back at you..like darn it...
it's your fault....because you do..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem