Tickle Me Pink

Tickle me pink

Said the girl with the shaven head

I am tougher than the boys in the cage

The boys who send you out 

To filch cigarettes from strangers

And lift miniature bottles of cologne from the shops

She went a roaming one day

And got lost on the way

Tickle me pink

Said the girl with the shaven head

Who found in the jungle

The cold, large metal cage

Inside the cage were boys so fair

So pretty, so slim, with only underwear

Tickle me pink, she giggled and stared

At those handsome, sexy young men in their underwear

Give us a fag luv,

And cover us in expensive perfume

We’re so pretty, said the boys, prettier than you

There were many male bodies cramped in the cage

Metal and cold, they made the girl’s hormones rage

Tickle me pink

Such a sight never was seen

All these pretty boys in their underwear

Some of the boys had lizard eyes

Some of the boys had talons for hands

Some of the boys had hooves for feet

Some of the boys had the tongue of a viper

Some of the boys had scorpion tails

And all of the boys had snakes between their thighs

The caged boys pouted and preened

Tickle me pink, I want to get in

So the girl shaved off her hair and took of her shirt

So maybe she’d fit in 

But there were no vipers or lizards under her skirt

Only breasts,

Failing guts

And a heart that beat too fast

Slip through the cage

You’ll get used to the cold metal

Come play a game of cards luv

Actually, just kiss our backs and watch the game

Give us a fag and don’t tell us your name

The girl with the shaven head pondered a while

She cared not about the talons 

and fangs and tails and wings

The boys were handsome handsome with the prettiest eyes

Deep, sad glassy rainbow eyes, with the liveliest smiles

Naked skin, soft, smooth and taut

Lips that looked like they would make her hair grow back

The girl with the shaven head slid through the bars

To join those strange and heavenly creatures

And they ate her alive, heart, liver, spleen, eyeballs and all

Had their cigarettes

Put on more cologne

And played a game of cards

Tickle me pick 

Said the girl who was dead

I still think I’m tougher

Than the boys in the cage

Copyright, November 28, 2007, Michele Koh

Trading Giblets

Trading giblets……google it

Trip detected

Manifestated crudelites……google it

Jammy pammy, suck their mammies

Let me rammy, the goose up your wamy

The god of fur

Plah plah…dribbles in my ear

Let the guards who hold my temple safe

Pour out their juicy filth

And lick my disgrace

Din, din, tell ‘em nothing

Why make such noise?

The whores can do it

Why show my mind, cos the pigs implore it?

Why state my case, cos the snakes adore it?

Why choose a cause?

So the hunter can slit my throat?

Kill the roachy coach

My soul gets herpefied, by the giggled numb……ha ha, ha… ha ha…two-faced, five-assed swine.

But bacon be bacon, so I’ll pearlify… the two-faced, five-assed swine. For the bacon I be raken, less I end up broke and bakin’

Why cheapen meaning with words?

Why say something

Rrrrr Rump, hump pumping

Din din, tell ‘em nothing

Trip detected

Manifestated crudelites……google it

Jammy pammy, suck their mammies

Let me rammy, the goose up your wamy

The god of fur

Plah plah plah…dribbles in my ear

Let the guards who hold my temple safe

Pour out their juicy filth

And lick my disgrace

Din, din, tell ‘em nothing

Copyright July 25, 2008, Michele Koh

The Fetus

Of this unwritten page

The petals of contentment

Are strewn, peace peace

That was born from

Self-righteous justice

Does this document mark

The denouement of the

Sentimental saga

Now the man has become fiction

The woman is redeemed

By the man’s suffering

The strong one

Finally unfurling

Like a shriveled

Fluid deprived fetus

Was there ever any love

Or was it war from the get go

Man wanted woman’s flesh

Man wanted her

To kiss his feet of clay

To worship at the shrine

To cry and pine at the altar

Of Adonis

Woman wanted man’s strength

Woman wanted his

Self-sufficiency

His kinship with nature

Brutish appeal

Business acumen

The fetus of his love

She put it in her mouth

Teasingly at first

Yes, I will nurse the baby

It could grow into a life together

He made her mad

He looked at other women

He spent too much time with Playstation

She ate the fetus

Now the man has become fiction

Copyright Sept 2007, Michele Koh

Pretty Words

Tired tired but the head won’t rest

No more pretty words to give

No more nice sounds coming out of my mouth

My body is like a piece of rotting wood

My fingers like dead leaves

The frailty of my body was imperceptible in youth

Now it is tired tired

But the head won’t rest

Writers seem more prone to alzheimers

And parkinsons in old age

Perhaps because the mind is fighting

The atrophy of the body

The immune system falters

The skin burns, tightens and itch

The organs become phlegmatic in rebellion

Even the passion, the kind with the juice

Stops flowing

Till the only orgasm

Is the one achieved by stroking the word

Till the only bliss is the one that removes

The writer from other human beings

Removes her even from nature

Even from time, from space

From the concept of sex and race

From the concept of building and place

From the constrainst of money and face

Till the only concepts that give comfort

Are --- self and god

Self

God

Self god

God self

Self god

Deliriously happy in the certainly

Of that truth

I am god

God is me

Bliss

Tell me, you simple one?

Is there a greater freedom?

That when the head catches

Those pretty pretty words?

Is there a freeir man?

Than he who dwells only in the world of ideas

Unfettered by sentimental tugs that the human relations entail

Unencumbered by even the gentle stirrings of religion and politics

Unseduced even by the brief joy of companionship

Was there ever a freeir man than he who is God of thought

Creator of reality that does not long even to be?

A creator with no need to create

A vessel of restless seeds that wish to stay uncracked

Why become fruit

To offer your flesh for eating

Nobody eats the seed

So stay seeds

Why sow them?

That’ll bring them closer to their death

Life in the horrid body

Tired tired

Ill ill

The body unworthy of the mind

The mortal body

Bethrothed to the divine mind

Goodbye body

Goodbye memories

Goodbye love

Goodbye desire

Goodbye cares and woes

Goodbye death

Goodbye world

Goodbye feelings

I exist now only on a diet of thought

I judge not

I judge not

So lonely lonely

Tired tired

No more pretty words to give

In my world of thought

An immaterial world of possibly bogus anitmatter

I speak it plain

I speak it for my own benefit

I care not about you

If you think like me

Then you are like god

Then you understand

The simple simple, not so pretty words

Are you tired too?

Copyright 19 Dec 2007, Michele Koh

I Have A Jabberwocky

I have a jabberwocky

Keeps me up all night

In the morning

It is tweedle dee or tweedle dum

Dee for a good day

Dum for a bad

Sometimes it does a Cheshire cat

And my head is away from my body

And I don’t know if I’m here or there

Then there’s holier than thou mad hatter

Who whips my nerves about like batter

And don’t you wake the walrus

Or he’ll crack your ribs and slurp on your guts

And don’t you mess with the queen of hearts

Cos she’ll be smashing all your tarts

But worse than them lot

Worse still than the jabberwock

Is the monster child named Alice

Who can make them all disappear

With a warm drawn bath

And two quick flicks of a razor blade

Copyright July 2008, Michele Koh