Monday, November 9, 2020

HOMEMADE PERFUME

 







HOMADE PERFUME FOR MOMMY

 

Don’t have much money so I’ll start from scratch

Grab the scissors and pick open the kitchen latch

Can’t keep it locked or asking for permission,

I’m a 7 year old chemist determined to complete his mission

Just under the sink and near the drain

Scents and fragrances to tantalize my little brain.

Blues and yellows, purples and reds

Bottles with triggers and plastic heads.

Open containers filled with Brillo pads for cleaning pans

Bug sprays and shoe polish in unmarked cans.

 

 

 

I start with the blue Windex for that great shine

Just two tablespoons or perhaps nine

Mix some green Drano for that ageless soft skin

Shake it, roll it and make it spin

3 tablespoons of Pine-Sol should enhance the flavor

A tonic so sweet your mortician would savor

Just needs some color, some red or some white

So I reach deep into the cupboard and turn on the light.

 

In the back corner I grab the bleach and begin to pour

Count from one to two to three and to four

The perfume nearing perfection

Still needing that one special ingredient to add to my collection

And then I spot some Viagra next to a can of Lard

Might as well add some blue to make it nice and hard.

Odd that I would find this expired bottle under the sink

Because Daddy always hides it in weird places as it turns his face a bright shinny pink.

 

The final elusive scent just sitting in plain view

Sodium hydroxide, Boric Acid or some modeling glue?

Nah, not this time, those ingredients can wait

I need a pinch of Clorox to make this perfume great

The end is near, the elixir almost done

Bottle it, cork it and watch the fun.

 

It burps and gasps, foams and shakes

Slushes around and congeals like a butter cake

Oh the color and that smell so defined

Like a gifted sommelier inspecting my great wine

 

Tis the gift for mother this Christmas year

Not a finer batch of perfume cheer.  






























































MY ONE INCH LITTLE HORN

 








MY ONE INCH FRIEND

 

I came into life

And many said it was so cute

At age three it resembled a pan flute.

 

At age ten it grew in shape and direction

And many said happiness would come from it.

And sure to truth

In show and tell it was a hit.

 

Nearing fifteen it sprang to life

Whenever teacher flashed her slip

My balls rubbed my rod and did a flip.

 

Now at age 50 and battles won

The mighty poker slithered in my jeans

And if my wife can wake the dead,

That’s a mystery still to be seen.

 

As an octogenarian

My mighty beast lay in hibernation.

Too small and too tired

For some friendly masturbation.

 

Dead in a hole,

My wicked pecker as small and withered as the day I was born.

The formaldehyde flowing through my veins

Gave girth and stiffness to my little horn.







WWW.BATKAR.PIXELS.COM























































THE NAIL BITTER

 







THE NAIL BITTER

 

Crunch, crunch

Yum, yum

Tasty dirty nails in my tum.

 

Oh look here

What do you know

Only 3 more nails to go.

 

Nibble, nibble

Chew, chew

Alas no more

Now what shall I do?







WWW.BATKAR.PIXELS.COM





















































GROUNDED FOR LIFE

 








GROUNDED FOR LIFE

 

I've never seen mom so mad as yet

the day I flushed the dead hamster down the toilet.

Her face contorted from a beloved mother into a rat

and I feared retaliation from old sparky, the baseball bat.

 

"Get me the plunger," she did demand

and quick as the roadrunner it was in her hand.

 

"The other end if you don't mind"

"This is to unplug from behind!"

 

And a plunging and a pushing she set to work

a clank, bash, dink, and a quirk.

 

All the plunging lodged Lucky further into the drain.

"Get me a bulldozer, a plumber, or a crane!"

 

"We have none of the above," I said.

"Another peep out of you and I'll use your head!"

 

And grabbing the pliers she started to turn

The pipe gurgled, burped, and churned.

Water burst from every leak

Mother got soaked from head to feet.

 

A giggle itched deep in my belly

rolling, turning, bumbling like green jelly.

 

Mad as a bee mom grabbed for a knife.

"Keep laughing and you'll be grounded for life!"

 

She thrust the cleaver into the bowl

for one valiant attempt to dislodge Lucky from the hole.

 

"I give up," screamed mother!!!

"Where's the yellow pages, I need a plumber!"

































































BILLY THE BULLY

 








BILLY THE BULLY

 

Billy the bully lived on my street

and when in need of money

he would hang me upside down from my feet.

 

He took my money and beat me until I was blue

and he would laugh and snort

and glue my hands to my ears with monkey glue.

 

I would tell my mother, but what could she do?

She would call Billy the bully on the phone

and threaten to sue.

 

This lasted till I reached the age of ten

when Patsy the pusher moved onto our block

and put Billy the bully's reign of terror to an end.

 

At the innocent age of ten and weighing close to 120 stone

6 foot 3 and mean as a bobcat

she proceeded to break Billy's foot bone.

 

And I being quick to take advantage of my luck

befriended her

married her

and to this day we are stuck.






WWW.ROBERTMARGETTS.COM
















































dragon with the green thumb

 







(Bicycling Through Haight Ashbury in 1969 by Robert Margetts)



DRAGON WITH A GREEN THUMB

 

Pot the Spruce

trim the Pines

Crush...stomp....Down to nine.

 

Edge the grass

water the dates

Wham..crash...Alas just eight.

 

Fan the willows

and clip the tulips

Whoosh...thrash.  7 down to six.

 

Hoe the maples

and de-flea the dogwoods

Bounce...bump.  Five to four.

Soon to be no more..

 

Pick the carnations

and fluff the roses

Squash...splat.  Down to one.

The dragon may have the green thumb

but all the girls giggle at his black and blue bum!!








































































The Chopping Block

 




(The Time Machine by Robert Margetts)


www.robertmargetts.com


THE CHOPPING BLOCK

 

A blacksmith's anvil

an editors splicing playground.

The guillotine and the basket

befall the head of the cock.

 

To sever the spine

and spurt the blood

and drain the virus from the rock.

 

The callused palm of a wanton girl

stroked the manhood of her frail lover.

Inching towards orgasm

ever pulsating

never relenting.

Flesh against a tender organ

as friction teased the enlarged taste buds

under the mushroom hill.

 

A last stroke

a dying spurt.

And the gentle talons

latched onto the withering muscle

as one life came to an end.




























































BOOGERS FROM HEAVEN, KIDS PICKING THEIR NOSES, DISGUSTING BEHAVIOR

 




(the bat signals by Robert Margetts)



(wrote this one about a little boy fishing for goodies)

BOOGERS FROM HEAVEN

 

Lickety lick

Picket pick

Ram that tiny finger up the hole

And grab that delectable sushi role

 

Green and gooey

Tasty and chewy

No rhyme or reason

It’s just picking season

 

Hold that booger high in the air

Twirl it between the fingers and rub it on the chair

It’s a treasure trove, an endless pot

A cornucopia of delicious snot

 

Open wide and tilt head back

Here comes some salty crap

Not the first and definitely not the last bite tonight

I’ve got two nostrils, one on the left and one on the right.



























































Tuesday, April 3, 2018

ARE WE THERE YET




ARE WE THERE YET?

www.batkar.artistwebsites.com


Stop the car
are we there yet?

My drawers are soggy
and awfully wet.

Pee is seeping down....
Speed up and turn down the heat!!
I feel wetness in the seat.

Pull off!!
Detour now!!!
Stop over there
I see a rest stop.
Come on, Come on
Hurry it up.

Oooops...TOO LATE.