Articles in Category: Poemeanderings

A collection of generally expletive and euphemism-filled rhymes and utterances.


Pornography’s a funny thing
Each way you look at it.
Dicks so huge with waves of spooge
And zeppelins for tits.

All seems very clinical,
Scenes are way too close.
With gyno-cam right up a clam,
It’s scary and it’s gross.

The men are picked, not for their looks,
As handsome, they are not.
It’s coz they’re good at keeping wood
And monstrous money-shots.

But strangely, as I’m writing this
There’s porn on my TV.
The “actress” moans whilst getting boned
In orifices three.

As much as I despise myself
For watching Forrest Hump;
Still I stare, I’m mostly bare,
Except a penis pump.

Pornography’s a funny thing,
But one I can’t resist,
When hormones raise and make me crave
A quick one off the wrist.

Transexual Blues

I was born a pretty girl, 
A beauty hard to hide
An 80s perm, tits so firm, 
Beyoncé’s huge backside.
It felt OK on summer days,
But something wasn’t right;
A monthly cork with achy norks 
Left me quite uptight.
Sitting on the lavatory,
I viewed my furry cup,
An amputee, who yearned to see 
Me pee whilst standing up.
Some called it “penis-envy, girl!”, 
Some called it “Devil’s work!”.
But all I cared was for more hair,
More than a Russian Turk.
And so I set out on my quest
To make this change to man.
I got my trout turned inside out
And called myself Big Stan.
So here I sit, years down the line
All stubble and beer guts.
Drinking late, with tranny mates
Comparing Velcroed nuts.
I was born a pretty girl,
I’ve gone from boobs to balls.
But it’s Sod’s Law, all I yearn for:
To get in ladies’ smalls.

Ode to Summer Plums

I’m grateful for these summer days,
I’m thankful for the sun.
I’m pleased to feel the heat it brings
To each and everyone.

But there’s one thing, I must protest,
That makes me out of sorts;
The stress and the unpleasantness
That happens in my shorts.

Of course, I’m talking sticky nads.
Yes, wet and sweaty balls.
More moisture than has ever surged
Across Niagara Falls.

Sweet ladies, you don’t understand
Man’s trouble and his grief.
All your bits are tucked away
In lacy, finespun briefs.

I’m fighting back, I make a stand
So please don’t feel dismay
It must begin, from here on in: 
They’re going on display.

My main concern is simply said:
To stop perspiring floods. 
Perchance to feel a mellow breeze
Flow sweetly on my spuds.

The "C" Word

I really like the “C word”,
I say it when I’m cross.
I say it to my mummy,
I say it to my boss.
I say it in the garden,
I say it in the street,
I say it to the strangers
I’d otherwise not meet.
It makes me feel so common
When dropping off the T.
It makes me feel quite sexy
When said on Babe TV.
The word can cause commotion,
Especially for girls.
Despite the fact that all it means
Is what’s beneath their curls.
It really aggravates me
That English words offend.
It’s just a word, so should be heard,
Rich language is our friend
Why suggest “The C Word”?
We all know what you mean.
Don’t be a prude with attitude,
A word is not obscene.
So shout it out the window,
Express, we’ll hear no grunts!
We’re all a bunch of “C words”!

All Works Copyright © 2017 Benedict Francis

This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.   |    Site by