deepundergroundpoetry.com
Love and Porcupines
When I was living in St Ives
I met a beast with seven wives
Seven wives had seven muffs
Seven muffs took seven pricks
Pricks lives muffs wives
Something was going down in St Ives
I’d say it was a curious case of sexual Kung Fu
An unusual art form pioneered through
the cock obsessed Canadian podcaster Will Blunderfield
A man with a strange vocational twist
A self proclaimed genital reflexologist
Who perfected the art of scrotal massage
thereby channeling carnal urges
And increasing hydraulic potency
Back to the love story…
A tragic affair
involving a pussy cat tamer
and a porculator with a passion for genital reflexology [In case you are wondering what a porculator is… that’s a cross between
a porcupine and an escalator]
Let me explain:
Pussy tamer swipes right on porcupine
Conversation goes, well, fine
They meet at a dodgy hotel
Hit it off rather well
But unexpectedly
On route to his room
While harnessing his inner prick
Porcupine climbs that escalator too quick
His bits get jammed betwixt
the conveyor belt and the handrail
Let me tell you it did not end well
A seismographic vivisection
With porcu-spines in all directions
Revealing a pornographic over-correction: A fucking filthy fat erection
Kitty cat calls on her seven gal group
They set to work on his injured fruit
Removing prickles one by one
From a splintered phallus come undone
Restoring life to the porcupine
A wounded quill pig in his prime
The moral of the story:
If you want to become a master procreator
Don’t get jammed in an escalator
I met a beast with seven wives
Seven wives had seven muffs
Seven muffs took seven pricks
Pricks lives muffs wives
Something was going down in St Ives
I’d say it was a curious case of sexual Kung Fu
An unusual art form pioneered through
the cock obsessed Canadian podcaster Will Blunderfield
A man with a strange vocational twist
A self proclaimed genital reflexologist
Who perfected the art of scrotal massage
thereby channeling carnal urges
And increasing hydraulic potency
Back to the love story…
A tragic affair
involving a pussy cat tamer
and a porculator with a passion for genital reflexology [In case you are wondering what a porculator is… that’s a cross between
a porcupine and an escalator]
Let me explain:
Pussy tamer swipes right on porcupine
Conversation goes, well, fine
They meet at a dodgy hotel
Hit it off rather well
But unexpectedly
On route to his room
While harnessing his inner prick
Porcupine climbs that escalator too quick
His bits get jammed betwixt
the conveyor belt and the handrail
Let me tell you it did not end well
A seismographic vivisection
With porcu-spines in all directions
Revealing a pornographic over-correction: A fucking filthy fat erection
Kitty cat calls on her seven gal group
They set to work on his injured fruit
Removing prickles one by one
From a splintered phallus come undone
Restoring life to the porcupine
A wounded quill pig in his prime
The moral of the story:
If you want to become a master procreator
Don’t get jammed in an escalator
Published 10th Jul 2023
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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The author encourages honest critique.
29th Mar 2024 12:08pm
This poem is certainly a wild ride, blending elements of whimsy, absurdity, and dark humor to create a unique narrative. The author's playful use of language and vivid imagery crafts a story that is both entertaining and thought-provoking.
The juxtaposition of seemingly unrelated elements - St Ives, genital reflexology, a crossbreed creature called a "porculator," and a tragic encounter involving an escalator and a porcupine - creates a surreal and intriguing atmosphere. The poem's exploration of sexual themes, albeit in a bizarre and unconventional manner, adds depth to the narrative, while the unexpected twist at the end serves as a cautionary (albeit unconventional) moral.
Overall, this poem is a testament to the author's creativity and willingness to push the boundaries of traditional storytelling. It's certainly not for the faint of heart, but for those who appreciate dark humor and surrealism, it's a delightfully bizarre journey.
The juxtaposition of seemingly unrelated elements - St Ives, genital reflexology, a crossbreed creature called a "porculator," and a tragic encounter involving an escalator and a porcupine - creates a surreal and intriguing atmosphere. The poem's exploration of sexual themes, albeit in a bizarre and unconventional manner, adds depth to the narrative, while the unexpected twist at the end serves as a cautionary (albeit unconventional) moral.
Overall, this poem is a testament to the author's creativity and willingness to push the boundaries of traditional storytelling. It's certainly not for the faint of heart, but for those who appreciate dark humor and surrealism, it's a delightfully bizarre journey.
