The Imperator of the Externally Worn Undergarment

3

The Imperator of the Externally Worn Undergarment, AKA the Poet, heard the cries of the many who were being oppressed by the sanctimonious hypocrisy of celebrity, and sallied forth to restore order by soothing the fevered frustrations of the masses. It is true however, that many were blinded by the Poet’s outer undies which glittered like a pair of 70’s disco balls, pulsating to the beat of ‘I Love the Nightlife’…

And the Poet spake, softly at first…

‘The left was here, the left was there,
The celebrities fawning all around:
They drooled and scowled, and barked and howled,
Like packs of dogs at the pound!

Celebrities and know it alls, they were everywhere,
Yet none with any ability to think,
Sanctimonious cuckolded degenerates,
Who were sure their shit didn’t stink.’

The Poet’s voice rose in intensity and passion:

‘They mount their case for retarded perversion
With loud hypocritical howls,
Desperately fighting for moral aversion
By shrieking through their bowels.

So listen not to the tricky or sly
Or the farting bores with some fame,
Tell them to slither back under the rock
Go back to from whence they came.’

And thus the Poet won a mighty victory, because his powers of poetry were strong, and the left slunk off to the depths from which they oozed forth, to lick their considerable wounds.Photo by j4yx0r

  • Ralphy

    The Poet spaketh and the assembled hordes looked about themselves and saw that all was good and right with the world.

    Blessed be the Poet of the Externally Worn Undergarment and his Church of the 1970’s Rotating Disco Balls!

    We abase ourselves to bask in the warm, cossetted, comfort of his Magisterially, Munificent Magnificence!

    Behold – The Imperator. Look on his Works, ye Mighty, and Despair!

    • Repeal fake marriage

      You sir, are a talent beyond that which is talented. May the Imperator smile kindly upon the inventor of his title.

  • W. Hunter

    I like a nice set of ditties…..well done.