Trublic Pansport

It's the vomit in the aisle
It's the pervert's smile
Staring at the girl flaunting her tits
Scowling at everyone with man bits
The driver keeps kicking the brake pedal
Like a Ti Kwan Doe athlete, trying to win a gold medal
Relentlessly pounding, a yard from every red light
Which inevitably kicks off the drug addicts, who are now having a fight
With everyone who looks even slightly like someone who slighted them
Once
Ten years ago
Fuck buses, and their diseased human cargo.

Battles of Snow

Battles confined to a unkempt playing field
Because one dumb fuck did fail to yield
Prior to throwing a ball of snow 'cross the road
"Come at me, then, you fucking chode"
Shouted one to the other, in what's known as 'par'
As the ball collided with a passing car.
The police were called,
But more snow was balled,
And white fluffy missiles keep hurtling through the air
To melt, as you go indoors, into your once toasty hair.

The Anonymous Hooligan

When it's winter time, and ev'rything's covered in snow,
I wonder to myself, as I'm walking home,
I could draw a dick in the snow on this car,
And nobody would know, and left on the paint not a scar
I could write 'fuck' or 'cunt' or even 'willy'
(Especially that last one; it's deliciously silly),
And there'd be no-one to see, to make me look like a fool again,
And so I shall become The Anonymous Hooligan.

Sweet Popcorn Master-Race

I've been pondering a lot, of late
About the different ways I procrastinate,
I sit on my computer, watching porn,
I might watch a movie, shoveling corn
Into my greasy, freckled, teenage face
Dropping sweetened kernels all over the place,
Because people who eat popcorn salty,
May as well have it covered in balti
Because that's about equally as disgusting,
Not to mention quite gut-busting,
Just imagine, corny curry shits,
With a burning exit and rough little bits,
Or maybe slightly bigger bits, depending on the amount of mastication,
Which concludes today's bout of procrastination.

The Definition of Man

Nothing quite defines a man
Half as much his beard;
If the same were to adorn a woman,
The appearance would be weird.

Nothing quite defines a man
A quarter as much his 'tasche;
If the same were to adorn a woman,
The opposite direction, men would dash.

If a man bares a 'soul patch',
He looks a bit of a cunt;
I drafted this with a 6B pencil,
Now the damn thing's blunt.

The Magnificence of Public Flatulence

The painful buildup, the ecstatic release
The noxious gas through the backside crease
The recoiled bystander, scrunching his nose
The scat fetishist, curling her toes
The quiet anxiety following the moist sensation,
The piercing sting from the intense vibration,
Guffing in public makes you an outcast, you see
Because what's disgusting to you,
Is wonderful to me.

Beanz

Empty contents into a saucepan and stir gently while heating,
Pour sensually over scrambled eggs on toast for magnificent eating,
Do not boil or overcook as this will impair flavour,
Cooking them with cheese is doing your tastebuds a favor.

Haricot beans in tomato sauce,
With cheese, melted, Cheddar of course,
Bacon, sausage, eggs or on toast,
Whichever is the one you desire most,
They're even one of your five-a-day. 

Yellow Snow

If there's one thing I really like about snow,
It's the fact that it can be used as a sort of
Urinal canvas,
If you will,
So when you need to go,
You can use the glistening snow
To write your name
Or draw a great big cock.

Porcelain Throne

As I sit atop my porcelain throne,
I wonder, when I'm all alone,
Why I talk to myself, why I bitch and I moan
About trivial things like the economy, and its lack of growth,
Or the smell that's getting worse, making the floorboards groan,
As I sit atop my porcelain throne.