A Wanker's Graph

[billy]

1st edit done with thanks all round.

for the heads up on the grammar, in my life, grammar is the family of an Alzheimer patient, loved but seldom known of.
and for the ambiguity of tits; i'm sure there's a anne sexton poem in something like that. will work on the tit aspect in the next edit.  largess in my spell checker is Largess which i know is wrong so i'm well screwed

---

A Wanker's Graph

Me and the placenta escaped
confinement where Debussy was pleasant
enough, with company from Chopin and co.

The teat while sweet and nourishing kept giving
issues in puberty; I deemed myself a tit-man
at thirteen. Mother was replaced by girls
called Jenny or Sue and disappeared,
though her breast size stayed with me into adulthood.

Largesse flowed into and flopped
out of my hands; masturbation
an occupational therapy to keep
me in tip top condition. I'd spurt
over mum's Littlewood's catalogue three times a day
at least.

Penis size never cropped up till i was sixteen
"It's not very thick is it?"
when it was up her arse I asked
"Is it thick enough now?"
She meowed like a cat and called
me a dirty cunt.

The next three decades saw the demise of libido;
three wanks a day from a good imagination.
Sex was a given and a taken, three or five times
a week; like the breakfast bowl of cornflakes
always there to fill the hunger.

After that, the millennium shit its pants
and left me to Viagra; swallowed
like blue M and M's, they scared me with heart attacks,
worthwhile heart attacks that made one clutch
a blued steel boner with a smile.

An odd one's still flipped out; the race
horse of a cock still wants to please,
but is more interested in munching hay.

A Wanker's Graph

Me and the placenta escaped
confinement where Debussy was pleasant
enough, with company from Chopin and co.

The teat while sweet and nourishing kept giving
issues in puberty, I deemed myself a tit-man
at thirteen. Mother was replaced by girls
called Jenny, or Sue and disappeared,
though breast size stayed with me into adulthood.

Largess flowed into and flopped
out of my hands; masturbation
an occupational therapy to keep
me in tip top condition. I'd spurt
over mum's Littlewood's catalogue three times a day
at least.

penis size never cropped up till i was sixteen
"it's not very thick is it?"
when it was up her arse i asked
Is it thick enough now?
she meowed like a cat and called
me a dirty cunt.

The next three decades saw the demise of libido;
three wanks a day from a good imagination.
Sex was a given and a taken, three or five times
a week; Like the breakfast bowl of cornflakes
always there to fill the hunger.

After that, the millennia shit it's pants
and left me to Viagra; swallowed
like blue M and M's, they scared me with heart attacks,
worthwhile heart attacks that made one clutch
a blued steel boner with a smile.

An odd one's still flipped out; the race
horse of a cock still wants to please,
but is more interested in munching hay.

[tectak]

Me and the placenta escaped
confinement where Debussy was pleasant
enough, with company from Chopin and co Excellent kick start, billy. You are on a roll

The teat while sweet and nourishing kept giving teat while sweet is brilliant ..though perhaps whilst.
issues in puberty, I deemed myself a tit-man
at thirteen. Mother was replaced by girls
called Jenny, or Sue and disappeared, Ifeel I knew Jenny. How good is this getting
though breast size stayed with me into adulthood.

Largess flowed into and flopped check out largesse
out of my hands; masturbation
an occupational therapy to keep
me in tip top condition. I'd spurt
over mum's Littlewood's catalogue three times a day
at least. Yeh...that underwear

penis size never cropped up till i was sixteen Capital Penis you haven't got
"it's not very thick is it?" Capital It's.
when it was up her arse i asked Consistency. I
Is it thick enough now? Consistency "Is it.......?"
she meowed like a cat and called[b] Capita S
me a dirty cunt.

The next three decades saw the demise of libido;
three wanks a day from a good imagination.
Sex was a given and a taken, three or five times
a week; Like the breakfast bowl of cornflakes Small "l" on like after a semi
always there to fill the hunger.

After that, the millennia shit it's pants
and left me to Viagra; swallowed
like blue M and M's, they scared me with heart attacks,
worthwhile heart attacks that made one clutch
a blued steel boner with a smile. Brilliant. Why have you not written this before. Of its genre, just terrific

An odd one's still flipped out; the race
horse of a cock still wants to please,
but is more interested in munching hay. Maybe clunky regarding hay-munching cock, but wtf. I get the point

On form, billy. On form. This one strolls along easily. Well done.
Best,
tectak

[rayheinrich]

The metaphor is great in you. (I like this poem.)
Detailed criticism intended soon.

[billy]

thanks much for the consistency and the missed capped. i'll use all you say in the 1st edit. thanks again for taking the time to read and reply

Me and the placenta escaped
confinement where Debussy was pleasant
enough, with company from Chopin and co Excellent  kick start, billy. You are on a roll

The teat while sweet and nourishing kept giving teat while sweet is brilliant ..though perhaps whilst.
issues in puberty, I deemed myself a tit-man
at thirteen. Mother was replaced by girls
called Jenny, or Sue and disappeared, Ifeel I knew Jenny. How good is this getting
though breast size stayed with me into adulthood.

Largess flowed into and flopped check out largesse
out of my hands; masturbation
an occupational therapy to keep
me in tip top condition. I'd spurt
over mum's Littlewood's catalogue three times a day
at least. Yeh...that underwear

penis size never cropped up till i was sixteen Capital Penis you haven't got
"it's not very thick is it?" Capital It's.
when it was up her arse i asked Consistency. I
Is it thick enough now? Consistency "Is it.......?"
she meowed like a cat and called[b] Capita S
me a dirty cunt.

The next three decades saw the demise of libido;
three wanks a day from a good imagination.
Sex was a given and a taken, three or five times
a week; Like the breakfast bowl of cornflakes Small "l" on like after a semi
always there to fill the hunger.

After that, the millennia shit it's pants
and left me to Viagra; swallowed
like blue M and M's, they scared me with heart attacks,
worthwhile heart attacks that made one clutch
a blued steel boner with a smile. Brilliant. Why have you not written this before. Of its genre, just terrific

An odd one's still flipped out; the race
horse of a cock still wants to please,
but is more interested in munching hay. Maybe clunky regarding hay-munching cock, but wtf. I get the point

On form, billy. On form. This one strolls along easily. Well done.
Best,
tectak

[/b]

[Achebe]

It's a bit too stark and brutally honest for me to crit this wretchedly good piece easily.
Are Debussy and Chopin referring to the music the poet heard his mum play?
I associated the first with La Mer, or in this case the "sea" of amniotic fluid. Chopin, I couldn't make sense of.
This is s placeholder. Will come back with some more comments.

[billy]

the music was amniotic sac music.

[Leanne]

Me and the placenta escaped
confinement where Debussy was pleasant
enough, with company from Chopin and co.

The teat while sweet and nourishing kept giving
issues in puberty, I deemed myself a tit-man -- semi-colon after puberty
at thirteen. Mother was replaced by girls
called Jenny, or Sue and disappeared, -- no comma after Jenny
though breast size stayed with me into adulthood. -- this is ambiguous.  It sounds like you're talking about your man boobs, or alternatively that you're learning to be a bra fitter (and not the remover we know you to be).  Instead, consider something about the importance of breasts rather than the size, or the importance of big boobs, or the obsession.  

Largess flowed into and flopped -- largesse
out of my hands; masturbation
an occupational therapy to keep
me in tip top condition. I'd spurt
over mum's Littlewood's catalogue three times a day
at least.

penis size never cropped up till i was sixteen -- cap P for consistency
"it's not very thick is it?"
when it was up her arse i asked
Is it thick enough now? -- and small i, with quotation marks -- be consistent, man!
she meowed like a cat and called
me a dirty cunt.

The next three decades saw the demise of libido;
three wanks a day from a good imagination.
Sex was a given and a taken, three or five times
a week; Like the breakfast bowl of cornflakes -- small l on like
always there to fill the hunger. -- although it wasn't intentional, I now have an image of you wanking into your cereal.  Thanks.

After that, the millennia shit it's pants -- just one millennium, and *its
and left me to Viagra; swallowed
like blue M and M's, they scared me with heart attacks,
worthwhile heart attacks that made one clutch
a blued steel boner with a smile. -- spectacular imagery, though I can't help thinking just "blue steel" would due to make it easier to say

An odd one's still flipped out; the race -- clever line break
horse of a cock still wants to please,
but is more interested in munching hay.

[Leanne]

I see Tom's already grammarfied you proper-like, but oh well, reinforcement can't hurt.

[billy]

thanks for the feedback leanne. i'll do an edit of the grammar in a short while.

the importance of breast back then was the size but i can see where the ambiguity is and that should be easy to sort out, i will consider finding a better importance than size

[Leanne]

Leave size as the important thing, but just make it clear that's what you're on about. Bloody boobists.

[billy]

1st edit done with thanks all round.

for the heads up on the grammar, in my life, grammar is the family of an Alzheimer patient, loved but seldom known of.
and for the ambiguity of tits; i'm sure there's a anne sexton poem in something like that. will work on the tit aspect in the next edit. largess in my spell checker is Largess which i know is wrong so i'm well screwed

---

A Wanker's Graph

Me and the placenta escaped
confinement where Debussy was pleasant
enough, with company from Chopin and co.

The teat while sweet and nourishing kept giving
issues in puberty; I deemed myself a tit-man
at thirteen. Mother was replaced by girls
called Jenny or Sue and disappeared,
though her breast size stayed with me into adulthood.

Largesse flowed into and flopped
out of my hands; masturbation
an occupational therapy to keep
me in tip top condition. I'd spurt
over mum's Littlewood's catalogue three times a day
at least.

Penis size never cropped up till i was sixteen
"It's not very thick is it?"
when it was up her arse I asked
"Is it thick enough now?"
She meowed like a cat and called
me a dirty cunt.

The next three decades saw the demise of libido;
three wanks a day from a good imagination.
Sex was a given and a taken, three or five times
a week; like the breakfast bowl of cornflakes
always there to fill the hunger.

After that, the millennium shit its pants
and left me to Viagra; swallowed
like blue M and M's, they scared me with heart attacks,
worthwhile heart attacks that made one clutch
a blued steel boner with a smile.

An odd one's still flipped out; the race
horse of a cock still wants to please,
but is more interested in munching hay.

A Wanker's Graph

Me and the placenta escaped
confinement where Debussy was pleasant
enough, with company from Chopin and co.

The teat while sweet and nourishing kept giving
issues in puberty, I deemed myself a tit-man
at thirteen. Mother was replaced by girls
called Jenny, or Sue and disappeared,
though breast size stayed with me into adulthood.

Largess flowed into and flopped
out of my hands; masturbation
an occupational therapy to keep
me in tip top condition. I'd spurt
over mum's Littlewood's catalogue three times a day
at least.

penis size never cropped up till i was sixteen
"it's not very thick is it?"
when it was up her arse i asked
Is it thick enough now?
she meowed like a cat and called
me a dirty cunt.

The next three decades saw the demise of libido;
three wanks a day from a good imagination.
Sex was a given and a taken, three or five times
a week; Like the breakfast bowl of cornflakes
always there to fill the hunger.

After that, the millennia shit it's pants
and left me to Viagra; swallowed
like blue M and M's, they scared me with heart attacks,
worthwhile heart attacks that made one clutch
a blued steel boner with a smile.

An odd one's still flipped out; the race
horse of a cock still wants to please,
but is more interested in munching hay.

[Achebe]

I promised a crit, so coming back to that now:

I have re-read this poem several times - it's quite wonderful.
Some particularly great lines being (as others have pointed out):

...She meowed like a cat and called
me a dirty cunt....

...worthwhile heart attacks that made one clutch
a blued steel boner with a smile....

Just the odd nit:
Don't like this line - "The teat while sweet and nourishing kept giving
issues in puberty"
the teat / sweet rhyme is quite random and looks like a bad accident.
"kept giving" sounds bad. Perhaps "while sweet and giving, nourished issues..."?