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Showing posts with label miley cyrus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label miley cyrus. Show all posts

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Choke on the Bit [Guest News Poem, May 13, 2010, By Rutherford Toady]

Choke on the Bit
By Rutherford Toady

Welcome to the triple-X ranch, where we work hard to break the faux-virginal sissypants pop smears, who in reality are far from pure and in fact have been repeatedly molested by impotent politicians wearing giant strap-ons molded in the shape of their favorite popes. After being buggered by a Pius XXX phallus for years, young stallions such as Justin Bieber can’t help but hurl up wall after wall of protective stony smiles, the ivory fences of their pearly whites being the only part of them not yet scrimshawed with the graffiti tags of corporate logos. The fillies fare even worse; take Miley Cyrus, her tween twat long since marked with the mark of the bestialist, her bust wet from the slobberings of every linebacker faggot who could unclog the blow from his nostrils long enough to get his pecker hard enough to pork her prepubescent pussy. Eventually the scorch-marks from the branding irons scab over and these girls stop shitting bits of cellphone into the bloody basin every morning, stop vomiting up the gobs of spermy vodka that get caught in the backs of their throats like an extra uvula. Yes, eventually our little Britneys and Lilos grow up and become the glassy-eyes nags they were always destined to be, singing with sandpaper rasps and shaving their snatches like they were still thirteen. We put them out to pasture then, but only after riding them into the dirt, those skeletal cumbags whose bloated udders will soon scrape the ground like swollen condoms. We scratch our names in their hides with our spurs, laugh when they get their hooves caught in their own stirrups. We ride them fast and ride hard, and keep plying them with visions of apples and sugarcubes, and when they complain that we don’t deliver the goods, we remind them that this poor falling-apart old world could always use a little more glue. Now, giddy the fuck up!

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Visit R. Toady's site: http://carrioncall.blogspot.com

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Sunday, March 07, 2010

A One Way Trip on Virgin Galactic [Bonus News Poem, March 7, 2010]

A One Way Trip on Virgin Galactic (or Tricks in Post-Apocalyptic Space) [Bonus News Poem, March 7, 2010]

“Iran's Defense Ministry introduced a new domestically-manufactured cruise missile that will significantly improve the deterrence capabilities of the Iranian military forces, the local satellite Press TV reported on Sunday.”
http://news.xinhuanet.com/english2010/world/2010-03/07/c_13200992.htm

“SpaceShipTwo will be unveiled after darkness has fallen over the Mojave Desert to the sound of a space-themed anthem from Britain’s biggest DJs, Above & Beyond. Fittingly titled “Buzz” the track will sample Buzz Aldrin’s original moon landing dialogue. Following the naming by Governors Richardson and Schwarzenegger, the DJs will also perform an exclusive set at the celebration cocktail party which will follow and feature the first ever IceBar in the desert hosted by Absolut and the world famous Swedish IceHotel. All the guests will be protected from the desert cold by designer space jackets supplied by PUMA. Finally, to close off the celebrations, all the guests will have the opportunity to view the stunning night skies using specialist telescopes supplied by Ron Dantowitz of the Clay Observatory whose unique tracking cameras followed SS1 into space during the epic flights of 2004.”
http://www.zimbio.com/Sir+Richard+Branson/articles/6Oa9PZL7ymz/Virgin+Galactic+SpaceShipTwo+1st+Commercial

“Cyrus is also working on an album of her own, which she said will be out later this summer.”
http://www.mtv.com/movies/news/articles/1633359/story.jhtml

The royalties won't pay for air
Much less a berth, a bite to eat—
I've waited long to touch your hair,
To paint the nails on pretty feet

Since puberty. I've thought of you...
I'm sorry does that make you shy?
I'm lonely. Since the earth's been through,
I've cursed this metal in the sky.

Celebrities like you survived
To love your fans (for price, by bit);
Though true on earth, with wealth you thrived,
In space you live by famous slit.

Your wealth on earth is molten slag
In space, your skills? They have no use.
On earth they might have let you drag
Them down, but here you'd best be loose.

Your refuge is our prison now
And servant's master, switching bows;
Now act as if it's Oscar-night
And come to me for Tantric-rites.

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