04-20-2022, 08:32 AM
(04-20-2022, 01:09 AM)TranquillityBase Wrote: Saddle againI have learned about Spallanzani's expirement for frog pants to confect semen,
the substance of man
that be putrefied ridin’ the range.
My hand is a friend of the transparent longhorn again,
out where the lowly gypsum weed
grows in back of the testicles, I am a fan of this..
totin' my old disentangled whoopi-ty-aye-oh again.
rockin' my forty four where you sleep.
I begin to be alive in the saddle again, out every night
and the only law is to confect semen.
Sealed up in a glass gourd again,
my sperm and a man's blood
and twenty Dutch eels in horse-dung.
Nourished for forty days,
I'm back in the tubules again. That is fowl.
Let whoopi-ty-aye-yay go, my friend.
Them frogies is movin',
my rawhide gal's emittin: thousands engaged in reproducin', commas here
but Spallanzani was the first to just rope 'em.
Soon, we'll be livin' in every wide station, here aswell
waitin' with our semen at our side.
Don't try to understand the wind and the weather;
hell's an encumbrance,
seek out the ending, seek out that ride!
Males are external.
Female vitles, lovin' and kissin's eternal.
Brand 'em waitin' and impassible.
All those things I'm missin’,
but good Spallanzani keeps them frogies rollin'.
Notwithstanding his heart's calculatin',
my streams are swollen and keep movin', movin', movin'
in my tight taffeta pants.
Love will be waitin' though they're disapprovin',
just keep on wishin'
equal eagerness
in every future act of generatin'.
and am the better for it.
This was pretty humorous, but I was lost through most of the poem.
The only Critique I can offer is some grammer.
I'll have to read this a couple more times before I understand,
or someone smarter than me can explain this,
which is also welcome.