Thursday, May 17, 2012

Cx

A fellow poet once again I proffer my pen
It is time you commence poetry once again,

Perhaps it could be of your new found land
don’t be shy Rob, take the pen from my hand,

A Matthew Newton Joint
17/05/12 01:05,
All rights reserved
the poems featured here are written in jest
the presented notion no more can I stress
there is no strict pattern, structure or form
the words and the style, from my head they are born

A Matthew Newton Joint
17/05/12 01:01,
All rights reserved

The Latin peeper of Lincoln

In the shadows of darkness this divil did lurk
A feather in cap and a wry cheeky smirk,

He hid his dark chiselled features behind a pruned moustache
His eyes darting wildly, his tongue he would lash,

The quarter of the cathedral he liked to roam
Where he would call out to young woman with a lascivious tone,

Hey there Bella you look fine in your gown
Perhaps you would gallivant with ME about town,

He spent lots of time on the cobbles under the arch
A tap of his cane drew the attention of females as they’d march,

A long curled finger would hither them near
An error of judgement which would cost them so dear,

In the morn they would depart unbeknownst before sleep
Another salacious catch for the Lincoln Latin creep.

A Matthew Newton Joint
17/05/12 00:49,
All rights reserved

An ode to he

Daniel Barr, he’s a wonderful lad
With quiet admiration I whisper in the wind
Our imminent departure will make more than I sad

Come hither Dan, it’s time for you to shine
For the moment has come for us to step into the breach
O’er different hills we must wander for new endeavours in time

A smile, positivity, no cynicism expelled
His business he carried out privately, but with humility
An exuberant passion for the Saints of the south coast he never withheld

Go forward Dan and achieve what you must
The windows of design you must open to proceed
It will please the big man down South, wouldn’t it just

A Matthew Newton Joint
17/0512 00:23,
All rights reserved

Saturday, May 5, 2012

Montano Scallywag

Melanie Montano, that's what she's called
her lascivious antics would leave you appalled,
she arrived in england with a pen in her hand
and a mind full of ideas she would hope to unlock

Time would not become precious to her
there was a lot of it to fill and adventures would incur,
great ambitions she would start to spout
but to her room she'd retreat for her dearest prosthetic cock

Her roommates where becoming curious of her endeavours
where she would go they knew not never,
but her favoured prosthetic limb could do no more
she was flleeing the pit with a salacious glint lurking in her eye

Aboard the train and off she would go
her destination often even she would not know,
late in the day she would return unannounced
"Where the hell were you Montano?" her roommates would pry

She would treat herself to a tasty pastry and off home she would dart
but Montano needed more pleasure than a mere baked tart,
that glint in her eye was festering away
it was time for the heathen in her to be seen

The wretched acts were soon to follow
a bottle of wine or maybe two is not all she would swallow
"i like your face what's the name handsome" she would start
whispering filth in the ears of men as she'd lean

Back in the pit all hell would break loose
this girl wasn't shy and she shouted abuse,
but the man on this eve was game for her match
"i'll show this woman" he said with a grin

Just as he was ready to explode
he whipped out his cock for the plan to unfold,
with a thrust he shot his load all over her face
Montano was smiling as she wiped the mess from her chin

A Matthew Newton Joint
30/04/2012 12:00,
All rights reserved!

Thursday, February 9, 2012

A Coax

A poem from the Goblin is what i seek,
A poem composed each day of the week.
A poem so sick it will inflict no good,
A poem to validate your no rude poetry dud.

A Matthew Newton Joint
09/02/2012 0927,
All rights reserved