by Wolf Larsen
When forty winters shall eat through my testicles,
And dig deep trenches into my flesh,
Flesh so proud & delirious as this cow laughing in my stomach, and snaking its way through my colon...
Now you'll be a tassered- human-shish kebab – big ka-zooweeee!
Ziiiiiiiiiing! I'm asking where do all the skies of the last 1,000 years lie?
And where are all the lusty days of pOlitiCal-caRniVal-husTlinG?
To sway-&-swook, with a sinking-shooting nuclear submarine sky thong!
And praise the Cockle-doodle-doo! Throw shame to the happy winds!
Praise the wipple dandies! You deserve a great big anus to hide your pianos in,
So if the penguins on the moon couldst answer ‘I'll be your supper!’
You shall suuump my flop and schalack my old ping-pram!
Proving his beauty by sucking my glorious phalaaaam-beep-rack!
Oh this is the new skinny dipping made out of voodoo art,
And see the blood warm bubbly out of the pot of your head!
Copyright 2012 by Wolf Larsen
by William Shakespeare
When forty winters shall beseige thy brow,
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,
Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now,
Will be a tatter'd weed, of small worth held:
Then being ask'd where all thy beauty lies, 5
Where all the treasure of thy lusty days,
To say, within thine own deep-sunken eyes,
Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise.
How much more praise deserved thy beauty's use,
If thou couldst answer 'This fair child of mine 10
Shall sum my count and make my old excuse,'
Proving his beauty by succession thine!
This were to be new made when thou art old,
And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold. 14