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 Sep 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 it’ll slurp on your guts like oysters

And don’t you mess with the queen of hearts
Cos she’ll be eating 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