General Augusto Pinochet's Generally Awful Poetry
All You Need Isn't Love
When I lost my Linda, I thought life wouldn't go on,
But then I met you Millsy, it was like a brand new dawn.
I banged you on the bed, I banged you on the floor,
I banged you in my Landover, I banged you like a whore.
It was love.
You wouldn’t let me eat burgers or wear mink underpants,
Despite your opinions on animals, I gave it a chance.
Eventually we got married and even had a wane,
Despite my daughter Stella hoping to never see you again.
It was love.
But then I realised you're mental and wanted all my dosh,
Your stories about ketchup bottles were all a load of tosh,
And now I’m at the final verse without mentioning your leg,
If you want any of my money, get on your knee and beg.
It wasn’t love.
And give me a BJ when you're down there.
El Tel
El Tel, El Tel,
We almost knew you well
But you've slipped through our gloves
And we've given you no love.
El Tel, El Tel,
We were worried you would sell
All our best players for a bung,
But then again we've got none.
El Tel, El Tel,
You were close and then you fell,
We had an ex-England man before
And he couldn’t get Staunton to score.
El Tel, El Tel,
You wouldn’t have liked the hell
That Don Trapattoni has embraced
So go out and get shit-faced.
Frolics & Banana Funks
In the year of the banana, 2012,
On a day dedicated to Satan himself,
Young Paul and his lover packed up their trunks,
And went on their way for frolics and funks.
In spite of the storm, the wind and the rain,
And in spite of Paul's chronic lower back pain,
And the recent court order demanding they refrain,
And their disapproving families who called them insane,
And a million other reasons, but their resistance is in vain.
They smiled ear to ear, for they were certified freaks.
Yes, they shoved bananas between their butt cheeks.
But disaster, misery, pain would strike them,
Like a stick made of danger to teach them a lesson.
Oh yes, you know that shark from Jaws?
It fucking ate them.
Squinty
She’s been coming into Katy's for five years,
Wearing the same formal dress.
She's still waiting.
She's still waiting.
For what reason she is monikered Squinty,
Is lost in the musty dearth of mind.
Just like her drink.
Just like her drink.
She asked for a gin and a small Diet Coke,
Even though they don’t mix.
She has no taste.
She has no taste.
What has she become and what will she be?
Are questions nobody asks.
For no one cares.
Not a fuck do they give.
She’s still waiting.
Malachi Cush?
Frank Mitchell bucks Mal,
Until he yelps like a porcupine.
Penetrating irrationally all reason dissipates,
The cooling fluid evaporates,
Hastening the conjured malaise of dystopia.
His empirical pedantry now haunts him,
Like a phalanx advancing on self and reason.
So a tear now runs along a hirsute cheek,
Reflecting a vacated disposition of meek;
Mal was bucked by Frank.
Sheath
Mansions home to tiger's stealth,
Precociously investing big-game wealth.
Shotguns blast in darkened woods,
Would darken fast tiger health,
But who can draw the vicious tide.
Fabricating condoms from tiger hide,
Our noble striped friend doth dwindle so,
My knob-end is chaffed slightly though.
My tiger skin sheath, it has to go.
Kitchen Spanktoberfest
I spanked until her knickers were in tatters.
She doused the wall where the mayonnaise splattered
Amongst the blood and fecal matter.
From the kitchen, the familiar kettle whistle
and he grimaced as she removed the thistle
From the weeping wound on his love pistol,
To which she gently applied a Bugs Bunny plaster
And asked him if he wanted coffee or tea.
"I’d like a beer."
“None left, and there’s no milk either.”
Kumquats
Kumquats drop as badgers sneer,
And at scarecrow, eunuchs leer.
But not the crow the badgers fear.
Close, although no longer near.
Overcrowding of the clouds began
And by the stroke of Russian hand,
Kumquats banished from badger land
And back came the rough, drunk farmer man.
Atlantic Dead Beat
She came back home with shopping bags,
Filled with the juices of high class slags,
This birthday present could not be better,
Until she opened her front door to find a new letter,
Juices carefully down were set,
Her jizz soaked carpet they now met.
The letter, from her lover, said she had been dumped,
And from that day on she washed her feet.
She also got a refund on the juices at quite a reasonable rate.
Wet Bastard
I’m walking through the lashing rain,
To make my way to work again.
Then sit for hours waiting to dry,
These pissy drippings from the sky.
Fuck the environment, it’s gone to far,
I’m going to get myself a car.
Beer
I once drank a beer
That tasted quite queer,
But I drank all that beer,
Despite tasting queer,
Because it was beer for fuck sake.
Blast!
Blast! As the sparrow hits the engine,
Super-charged, looking for revenge and
Focused on his goal. The greasy young attendant
Laughed as the sparrow's life was ended,
And he sipped, slowly, on his carbonated beverage,
His underlying motivation would be forever rage,
Elegantly cushioned by his partiality to the haze,
Consumed by his avian enemy within his gaze
"Once again", he crows, "Soup for dinner."
Friday
The time is passing so slowly, we’re
Counting the hours 'til Friday’s here.
So far away, and yet so near.
I’m not an alcoholic,
I just need beer.
Beautiful
Oh joyous of days onboard the bus,
Where we sat next other, comparing puss.
As the rain beat down on the window pane,
And you beat down on my throbbing vein,
I squealed with glee,
And begin to pee,
All over you and all over me,
And then I take your fare and ask you to sit down.
And So It Begins
The tyre screeches on my face,
With a mystic smile, so out of place.
I know that man, he is my son,
I used to bathe him, he held my gun,
As I went looking for a parking space.
The centre of the earth is hot and sticky,
And so it begins.
Flowers
The sun and rain from God above
Coax and call for flowers to grow.
They sing and dance around my house
And ask the plants, their leaves to show.
But not flower, tree, nor plant nor weed,
Shall show themselves to all above.
For gypsies came, yes travellers so,
And tarmaced my garden for a reasonable price.
I Love
Each day I check how tall they've got,
And I smell their leaves, so sweet.
But I keep it a secret from the cops,
Because I love ganja.
Damn Knots
My shoe laces are all tied in knots,
Damn knots.
My buttons cannot stay fastened.
Damn knots.
My zipper isn't zipping,
Damn knots.
Aw fuck, now I'm naked.
Valentine's Message
Each morning I wake beside you,
And I smile, before I put my teeth in,
At your hairy sack that lies on top of you,
And drool that runs down your face.
I think of the passion between us.
How we can go for hours and days,
And when you come in my mouth I don't fuss.
Now if I could only remember your name.
Sweet Beat
The clouds that drifted around his feet,
Made him get out his weapon, and beat, beat, beat,
Himself off in the street, how sweet.
And with teeth gritted and toes curled up,
He scratched his arse and wished them luck,
The crowd was amazed at his volume of muck.
A boy in a tree shouted, "Hey, go away mister!"
Clap Clinic
In a far off land that smells of cake,
With a left handed spoon and a rusty rake,
He shoved a slice in his bake.
But the taste he got, just wasn't right,
He'd wet the bed in the middle of the night.
Just what he'd ate, I cannot say,
But his gonorrhoea went away.
If you think you're Seamus Heaney and can do better, let the General know at
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