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© Fred Robel, and Fritz365, 2010 - 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Fred Robel and Fritz365 with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Thick Lizard Fashion

Big fat lizard called Jake
Legs too short to reach the ground
Had to wiggle like a snake
Just to get around

His owner pondered this problem

Finally an ideal solution was found
Much better than a light diet of fruits 
The best way for Jake to get 'round
Was to be turned into a fine pair of boots 

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Sous-VĂȘtements Vivant

The old dirty torn underwear stood up one day
Climbed onto a window ledge forty one stories up
And announced an intent to see the world

But before stalking off in a stiff fabriced march
It gave some context and thoughts

A brief spurt of soliloquy

"I have lived long
And been worn longer than I should
I've seen skid marks by the light of a new born moon
A wedgie so tight as to test the atomic bonds of cotton
Once I hung thirty feet in the air
From the branch of a two hundred year old tree
While all the universe was ablaze above me
Rotating about the North Star

At least from my perspective"

The fruit of the loom paused pensively
"I want to see more"

Then turning to quickly leap into the gap
Never to be seen again
An old crusty pair of underwear up and run away
Just as mother always warned me they would

Friday, September 12, 2014

Wet Dream

Shiver into me
As I drag my nails along your limbs
Stutter my name
With four letter interjections
As rouged lips wrap your shaft
Eyes closed
A moist spot upon a tented sheet
Awakened alone by a chill draft

"Dream come back to me"
I cry in vain

For even now your form fades from my memory
Just a ghost from a dream to me

Sunday, September 7, 2014


I tumble to your desire
You glorious bastard
With my skin on fire
Nerves as tight as a garrote wire

Serve me up crisp and steaming
Upon a plate of your leavings
Rotten apple in my mouth
All wits long since gone south

But this isn't about you really
It's just that I'm a submissive piggy
Kinky to the end as you take your seat
Ready to carve up the other white meat


How much penance should one woman do?
A hand dug ten mile ditch
Paths roads and bridges
Mountains moved
Tithes for the church
Alms for the poor
Prayers repeated
Like Bart Simpson after school

Bloody knees leaving a trail
The word "Sorry" hanging from lower lip
A cold sore that simply won't go away
Even when nothing was done wrong
It's always "I'm sorry" this
And "I'm sorry" that

Don't call Sorry Sally
That's the word on the street
For Sally is sorry all day long
Bring a lunch
And watch her carry on

Whipping herself in the square
Topless not for titillation
But for the sake of despair

Oh, Sorry Sally
What ever did you do to deserve this?

Is all the answer she will give
Though "Everything"
Is closer to the truth

Saturday, September 6, 2014

Stories & Time

So many stories
So little time

Finding a world full of chipmunks
Propelled by steam and steel
Obsessed with oak oil, acorns, and wood
Endgame completely unknown
Going about their business
Tails twitching nervously

To weep for the loneliest android
Trapped within a crumbling factory complex
Accompanied only by his programming
Learning the concept of love
Surrounded by emptiness and ruin
Exploring his realm
Recharging in his maintenance chair
And repeating endlessly

Cringing at a world full of mutants
Created by a company's greed
From a time when ethics failed them
Catalyzed in the Armenian Incident
Spawning the Merman of Lake Shorzha
And crippling deformity that spread like a virus
Until Homo Sapiens were but a fond memory

A painful frying pan solution
So simple in plan
So complex in execution
In search of a TARDIS
With which to change not the whole world
Just a small sliver of it
But the quest itself causing a change of heart
Too little too late
As the gears of time have ticked past what was to be
Onto the track of what is
Creeping tears through clenched eyelids
A torrent of salted water for what is lost

So many stories
So little time

Saturday, August 30, 2014

Innuendo Zombie Casanova

Grunts groans and shuffling
This one is a slow mover for sure
Getting close enough to be heard
He grunts out
"I'm so attracted to your brains...."

As far as innuendos go
Zombies aren't as clever as they think

His cold rotten hand upon your warm smooth hip
His breath would be awful if he could breathe
And as soon as you think that
You wonder how he can talk at all
What with the basic principle of vocal chords

"Your skull is too pretty to be in one piece
Let me help you with that"
He whispers in vicious thoughtus interruptus

Milky dead eyes beg you to fall into them
To surrender your soul to him
Or at least your brains
And you almost do

Allowing a cool embrace
Wrapping your arms around him
Feeling vertebrae protruding through back skin with gentle fingertips
As a pair of wintry lips wriggles their way up your neck
Creeping past your ear as two undead damp caterpillars

Again he softly speaks to his desire for you
"Your head is the sweetest of truffles
I yearn to taste the creamy....."

But you cut him short
As you always do
Sinking your fingers into his back
Tearing the decayed torso asunder
Watching tearfully as the head falls to the ground at your feet
Still attached to spine
Lips still pining for you
For a taste of you

It's hard to stomp on it
But you do
Satisfied at the sound it makes