Monday, 28 September 2009

Toilet Rhyme

When you Rhyme you got to let it go with the flow

Im sorry if my rhymes are constipated
I dont mean to be too depictating
They just come to me when I am sat on the Squatter reattling my trotters
Oh no here we gowith one huge humph
And guess what? I am sweating like John Doe
Swine squealing like a blocked up passage way
Heres where damage is done of holding it in
Building swill in the stenching feeling
For the four hours waiting
With the constant bursting anticipation
Of needing to unblock yourself
But holding on as you march from the otherside of town
So you can rush to sit on your thrown
And yell out Timber
Pushing it out of your laurrels
Whilst grunting and Growning
Oh what a feeling

When you Rhyme you got to let it go with the flow

Sometimes I have trouble with diehorea
And so my words come out fast and unclear
As I am sitting on the golden arears
With a wet wibbling thing coming out of my arse
Making a warm sloppy feeling in my undergarms
Generating a pong that pours out of nearly every song
A bit like flipany grammer boiling on Piles
As the hole rumbles ready to blow dark thick chunks
Producing something that looks like a black haddock lake
And a smell that is quite clearly opake
For goodness sake we are going to break
cry my house mates who are quite clearly Irrate
As they had been waiting for a while
I cant help it
Just blame it on my piles
which is making me bleed a rampant vile red
And slapping my arse cheeks raw as hell
When you Rhyme you got to let it go with the flow

Thursday, 24 September 2009


The human appology is something that forever daunts me
As try to appologies for my very existance
To make you make your faces turn with an ugly sight
Son you are not dressed in plastic
So you are never going to be quite right

Thats why they labeled me special and try to push me out of sight
Well thats what the doctors nearly did with success in flight
Right they screamed lets put him under with a 6ft blunder
Because we dont want a boy with un Ken like existance
Squwarked a bunch of identicats with notes ringing for teeth
And a careless pastiffe apart from lets lock up all outsiders tones
You son you spastic come here throwing me crumbs kicking me in the face
Your a fucking disgrace they lauded
As everything I try just gets laughed at
Hahaha son you must be joking We never want to touch with a ragged thing
Stinging words coming from singing voices
Trip stumble blunder take away tears
But fought back from the dogtors blunders
So I am here to slap you in the face with broken jeers
Look out there I dont give a shit about your hair
And prostheticly beautiful you are
Because lets just face we are all really just retards
Especially to the point of in order to make statements
You have to copy one another!

Thursday, 17 September 2009

How Can I Be A Power

I sit behind an empty screen to add an ovuer
To a near tendril sense of desperation
Screaming out in a lone time voice
I need a savoury truth so I can sink my teeth into a slice of reality
Serving it up with a creme fresh clinkering
Falseness is always the way to go forward
So I try not to look at myself with any self conviction
That i may not carry out tasks in a necessary fashion to succeed
Son you will just stumble to your knees
Screams the spokes hitting chambers

I cant help but feel that every time is useless
In trying to fit in with the broken clothes
They tear us all from making a collage of insecurity
How we all break into the same forms of life
Apart from being one of those that exceeds expectations
I am lost in walls of wafted voices
Charmonade insurections of reputability
To count on in the social seconds of need
Please bare source to those who inflict you
With broken skins crackling in the movement

Shall we inflict you with the modern man moto
Of get it whilst one can to the cand on the eye
Break out a sweat when your name is called
For trial and duty of how you must succeed
Indebted to bewilderment voices souring
How can I be a power when I cant open the door for my voice
Power just shuts me up boxing my voice into a corner
Confused and beffudled to be left alone
Sulking with those outside tones
How can i be a power when there is no thorn on my rose

By Jeffrey Johns @ 17/9/2009