I'm Going to Your Mother's House...

[Charlesjoseph]

        It was the day birds died,
        the day of departure.

        Seeing you knelt on our bed,
        trussed like pig on a stick ( like a piggy- that's what would come out of in my weirdo brain)
        taking it boy scout style;
        gave me an erection.

        I was embarrassed.

        Why not a Shirley Temple lie
        while licking a lollipop?
        It would have been sweeter
        than grunts of infidelity.

        I could have pretended.

        The twelve bore, as snug
        as Harry's hairy bollocks,
        lay asleep behind its blued-steel door.
        Your bore was less safe.
        Harold was a 90's dose master, ( 90's cocksman)
        the one,
        the only eternal crab carrier.

        I woke the sleeping weapon
        blasted your two poodles;
        one barrel per parody.

And departed. maybe vanished

Hey Billy,
I really like this poem thanks for the read. I tossed in a few ideas for you, not sure you need them considering how far along you are with it but who knows maybee my two cents will help.
cheers
Chazz