Blunt Wit

Go and catch a falling rock star,

Immaculately conceive with some ganja
,
Tell me how many dead brain cells there are
,
Or who invited the Devil’s last hurrah,

Teach me to hear mermaids kvetching
,
Or to keep away envy’s retching,

And find what wind serves to cloud an honest mind
,
If thou be’est born to kinky sights,

Things risible to see
,
Be ridden a hundred times in seven days and nights,

Till exhaustion ages pubic hairs on thee;

Thou, when thou return’st, wilt tell me
all warped wonders that erupted in thee,

And swear nowhere lives a tranny true and fair.

If thou find’st one, dingle my dangle

Such a pilgrimage were rad.

Yet do not; I would probably not go,

Though we might bump uglies next door.

Though she were hot when you met her,

At last when the beer wears off
and you see she’s nary wetter

Yet she will screw your bud,
ere you realize she’s a he.

Anyone done Donne?

Do you think love is more constant or ephemeral?  Lasting or transient? 

Ever had a transgender experience?

The original for your reading pleasure …

Go and catch a falling star by Johnny Donne

Go and catch a falling star,    

Get with child a mandrake root, 

Tell me where all past years are,    

Or who cleft the Devil’s foot;  

Teach me to hear mermaids singing,         

Or to keep off envy’s stinging, 

And find  what wind  serves to advance an honest mind.  

If thou be’st born to strange sights,  

Things invisible to see,  

Ride ten thousand days and nights    

Till Age snow white hairs on thee; 

Thou, when thou return’st, wilt tell me 
all strange wonders that befell thee,  

And swear nowhere  lives a woman true and fair.    

If thou find’st one, let me know;    

Such a pilgrimage were sweet.  

Yet do not; I would not go,

Though at next door we might meet. 

Though she were true when you met her,  

And last till you write your letter,          

Yet she  will be  false, ere I come, to two or three.

This is such an awesome poem.  I didn’t fully comprehend the depth of emotion when I read it in my youth.  It’s a poem you read several times and each time it reveals a bit more … skin.