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Today's poems [4.28.10]

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In a conference, lonely Fred posted
His plea for a friendly young co-ed
The response was frenetic
From gals energetic
And he died when his modem exploded 


Everything is gone;

Your life's work has been destroyed.

Squeeze trigger (yes/no)?


                    There was a young girl named Maxine
                    Whose vagina was wondrously clean:
                            With her uterus packed
                            She kept safe from attack
                    With a dill pickle, papulous, green.


Part 12 of 12
                    His bunghole was blown back to Sparta,
                    Where they buried the rest of our farter,
                            With a gravestone of turds
                            Inscribed with the words:
                    "To the Fine Art of Farting, A Martyr."


There were three ladies of Huxham, 
And whenever we meets 'em we fucks 'em, 
And when that game grows stale 
We sits on a rail, 
And pulls out our pricks and they sucks 'em. 


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