A Really Filthy Poem ©
Dalton in Furness, England
And now I have your attention,
And have drawn you from your cage,
Resist the urge, to scroll down to
The bottom of the page.
Iíll say again, itís true the pen,
Can be mightier than the sword.
So bear with me, and you will see,
At the end youíll get your reward.
Some trawl the deepest depths to find,
Things which they hope corrupt the mind.
So if true vileness is your measure,
This poemís end, youíll surely treasure.
I sense your eyes are flirting, lower.
But wait, just a little more.
The insipid text, for which you crave,
Will soon appear, then you, enslave.
I feel the words, erupting through.
Upon the page they soon will spew.
Enough. Enough. To waitís a sin.
Are you prepared?
Then letís begin
Mud, muck, crud, yuck,
Dirt, dung, grot.
Refuse, gunge, manure and snot.
Faeces, slime and putrefaction.
I hope this was to your satisfaction!