[Corneac]

“I want to grow a cock,” she said to me,
I laughed, but she didn’t,
How would it grow, I pondered,

in a fungi-strewn clump, like mushrooms,
first the balls, then the shaft,
a flower, almost, as if in the womb,
the tip pointed upward – as if to bloom,
but it doesn’t, no petals or nimble bud,
for it’s a cock after all,
and nought possesses the gentle nuance
of hidden, dripping depths,
or a blossom that opens, persuaded,
by the warm touch of the sunlight,
or the cool, wandering hands of the breeze,

so I’d sit back on the grass, relaxed,
with ease, and wait til it grows,
small at first, the width and breadth
of the unsatisfied,
I wonder if it would do so,
in a state of flaccidity,
or hard and taut, pointed skyward,
as if accusing, in it’s own arousal,
the retardation of nature’s bastardry,

so we sat there, staring,
as if reading the wandering,
meandering, impossibilities of my mind,
and in time – we, watched, anticipating,
the freshly-shovelled earth
of the flowerbed mound,
and as if to appease her;
I pulled on my cock,
and pissed on the ground,

[Phonoho]

You gotta' stop lickin' those toads, man. I just watched Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and this would have made a nice aperitif.

[Vail]

This was definitely a little wild. Well written in it's own crazy sort of way. I'm not sure it would have fit in Fear and Loathing, but nonetheless it was kind of like this crazy rambling. Excellent word choice, and an oddly unique flow. There wasn't so much a flow to it as there was this need to just continue reading, not allowing yourself a break, not allowing a chance for a flow to even develop. And then, your last two lines, so comical. I didn't so much laugh as I did smile, but really in the end, the idea of the smile is the same as a laugh. Good stuff Chris, I enjoyed it. Thanks for sharing.

[Venomous Vixen]

This read like a spruced up tale of penis envy to me. This is not a personal favorite of yours for me, though it was not a bad poem I am just wondering where the hell it comes from. I also chuckled at the end though, pissing on the flowerbed. Wish I could offer more to help you understand what it was about it that didn't do it for me but I think I am used to poetry about something deeper from you, and this just didn't hit it for me.