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Copyright: Fred Robel, and Fritz365 2010-2017. 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.

Saturday, November 10, 2012

Welcome to the Fourth Grade Level

I've read your assessment
It doesn't jibe with my perceptions
You say my words are at a fourth grade level
Well I've got news for you
That's the demographic I write for
And even that
My friend
Is past your limits
I know what they are
I was eavesdropping the last time your mistress made you her bitch
So don't tell me I don't know what they are
I even know your safeword

It's Pineapple Jubilee

Guess what?
That's two words
So right there you fail right out of the gate
If I was her
I wouldn't respect that shit
I'd keep on flogging until I saw bone
Your skin hung in tatters
Over top of your neo kinky form
Padded handcuffs tight from supporting your pussy ass weight
I'd pop some popcorn for that show
I'd risk my curfew and stay out way super late

Here's a fucking funnel
I'll jamb it into your left ear
Pouring my words into you like hot oil
Filling up every crevice until you are full
Of the words that are me
The thoughts that come out of my dick like piss
Raining down on you like a golden shower of shit
Fourth grade level words for your padded reality
Wrapping you up in a canvas and leather jacket of my own design
Dropping you into a tank of your own shortcomings
Sitting back to see if you can perform the escape
Inverted and bound in my reality on this page

That's how Houdini died I heard
Drowned in my words

That's how epic this shit is

Here I'll rope some Doctor Suess for you
I'll rhyme it like a hammer
Stand the fuck back
And turn on the radar jammer
As I fly by that state trooper
That's hiding in the weeds
His gun on automatic
As he jerks out to some mobile porn
Xhamster on the public dole
Doing it stranger style with his left
Because his right is feeling worn

Black belted Brown Betty bugles
Battled it out in the mucus
Singing fancy fuego fun fugue feugels
Crunched by cocky clown clad clappers
Enamel angels after all the esther adders
Till time told them to tower in terror
And slide slippery slopes slithering
Till digested diggery dogging doo
They ran their course to be ejected as my poo

Boom

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