KY

Should you shoulder her, Bill,
For a liposuctive gigolo in Boulder?
Should you tolerate her collar of hate?
And the racist epithets that drip like drool from her mouth?

Shorn panties wrapped around your cheese grated face,
Disgraced by the authenticity of my New Bean Queen.
She will lick the sweat off your libidos,
And enjoy a night replete with Staten Island guidos.

Codify your intellect with a yellow snow sundae,
Beleaguer your beaver with cumbersome cumberbuns.
In you Tyrone, lurks a chitlin' eating shoo fly fisherman,
Covered in the dusty lust of grandma's girdle.

Cervical degeneracy patched up with scotch tape,
Cradled like a baby in the arms of democracy,
Hypocrisy sits on the throne of your beliefs,
Pointing fingers invade Victoria's Secret.

Moderately successful lubricant companies,
Inherent in the abbreviation of Kentucky,
Crisco stains like signs that you got lucky,
And the schmucky way you walk post fucky.

Balance that roast duck on your tongue,
Hold that Silo sigh Ben hit in your lung,
Munch on the cookies of the rich post mortem,
Trust in coitus interuptus and threaten libel 
upon Nipsy Russell's hymen.

You think I lie man? 
You try, man, to hide your impotent vernacular.
I hear you sniff from post blow drip,
Your keester dipped in crunk juice,
Don't be so fucking surprised 
that Al Sharpton won your Wet T-Shirt Contest.

Useless meat harnessed in your sling,
As useless as your wedding ring,
Nobody gives a shit that you're taken,
They'll serve up your cadaver with bacon.

May the Grim Reaper reap her oysters from Styx,
May the Babylonian kings keep playing TV Pix.
May you snap your fingers like Fonzie and be surrounded by Chicks,
And guard your warm mound like Fort Dix.

{POETRY}