‘Toon’ poems – hello poetry money laundering legislation uk

This is one of barry hodges’ most inspired memories.

’twas morning time in times of yore and I, bold barry hodges, stood outside my store, my giant vegetables on display for all to see, when lo and behold! A luxurious limousine drew up, and from the back there emerged a gorgeous form of voluptuous statuesque feminity.

My god! I cried, it is that beauteous lady from la dolce vita, the wondrous anita – and I gazed with joyous on her divine body, imagining it sprawled lasciviously in my bed, legs open as wide as a major road junction on the M1 motorway.

Excuse me, said she in that italo-swedish voice guaranteed to make any man wet himself copiously, but I am a-lookink for a shop a-called 6B, and yet all I can-a-see is a barry hodges’ the master geengrocer’s, complete with a giant cucumber or two, which I ‘av to say remind me of somet’ing tasty.

Dearest lady, said I, you have come to the right place: 6B is the trading name of my sister enterprise: barry bodgers’ boil bursting beauty bureau which is located upstairs, barry bodgers at your service, my dearest, most delightful fru ekberg.Money laundering legislation uk

Shhhhhhhhh! I am een deesguise, not even dear federico knows I am-a-here. And thus, assuring her of my utmost discretion, and forming a bond by saying that I too, the famous geordie seducer, barry hodges, had indulged in a slight nomenclatural change in order to separate the two sides of my business interests, and in order to do a spot of money laundering on the side. But, I enquired, how is it that you have need of the rather specialised medical services we offer, you who are so radiant and bella-bella? She lowered her eyes seductively and promised to reveal her terrible secret.

As I ushered her up the stairs to the studio, my eyes on her arse-cheeks wiggling like two delectable beach balls in a sack, she told me the sad tale of the immense boil which kept recurring on the middle of her back and which no amount of corrective surgery could fix.

Aha! I exclaimed, only barry bodgers, the world’s greatest boil-sucker, can effect the cure for which you long, and I shall operate on you personally, not entrusting such a task to even the best of my boil-bursting minions.Money laundering legislation uk I added to myself, also I want to give you a good old bonking while we’re at at.

Once we attained the privacy of my consulting room, I instructed her to strip off utterly so I might examine her, and I can tell you, dear reader, that her nude arse was a joy to behold. I too divested myself of my clobber, knowing that boil-sucking can get a bit messy at the best of times. Jesus wept!, but the mighty boil betwixt her graceful shoulders revealed when de-plastered was a true horror, with a yellow tip as big as a grade one belgian turnip. I explained that I would suck it out whilst I rogered her from the rear and that, when she felt her climax on the way, she should scream out to that effect and I would then bite the core of the boil right out in a blaze of mutual orgasmic glory, before applying a dose of my exclusive boil preventative cream, namely a handful of our conjoined love-juices extracted from her gaping pussy by hand a few seconds earlier.Money laundering legislation uk

Yes! Yes! Yes! Screamed the swedish bombshell and with a mighty suck like an industrial dyson FX334 on full power, I slurped and razor-bit the boil, bursting it asunder, smothering my eager face in blood and putrid pus, thereby causing me to blow my wad as ne’er before. The green core of the boil emerged from its fleshly cavity with a deafening plop as we came together like a nuclear blast d’amour.

O, but only then, as my seminal outpourings soaked my jim-jams, did I awaken to discover yet another nocturnal emission. And, not unexpectedly, dear nurse nellie, having heard my cry of ecstasy, rushed in to my bedroom, head-shaking and tut-tutting as usual, as she knelt down and licked my tum-tum dry.

Yum, yum she murmured in her dulcet northumbrian tones, ah’ve looked after three generation o’ hodges laddies, and I kin tell ye, your spunk’s the tastiest of them all, ye bonnie wee man.Money laundering legislation uk

Better than grandad charlie’s?

Why aye, mon, yours is well creamier.

The plane is emotion.

The form is a gentle rider,

She pushes bullets off cliffs, she hugs the stars.

Catches the moon eyeing her with one

Great big hand wrapped on its cock;

Spins the bell of her dress

Round and round.

Sifted from the earth, man moody

Cleft in heaps of his entrails,

No progress has been made.

My metal mother pulls hula hoops for zulu,

She rips down the shelves and pulls

Bobby dylan from the wall. She says,

Grrrplleeopzhrka. And the smoke gets into

My eyes and burns my nostrils too.

In the great wind screen, footprints of man,

Native american blood weeps on my bright

Summer burning, no regency cleared. The

Outlook denied. It sits stagnant, maddening

With its blockhead on sideways. Heavy, old

Mutter hubbard wilting gold in her stare.

Mess comes. She spoils, her skin is loud

And anointed, her fecund white placard

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Is thinner than air. People look at each other,

A goblin, two trollops, the green woolen winter-wear

Of a soldier in despair. Only a putrid noon, escaping,

Cuts the flesh from the garden. Cuts out all the weakness,

The hope, the love, every thing owned, every one cleared.

The skin trap and oyster flap. The rich mixture of voices,

Nothing holds common that bond, that few could look upon,

That youth could-

None of the old things work anymore.

Just a wicked boredom trickling in blood down her legs, just

The lust trickling down her legs, dear mommy, I obey.

And when the summer months set in mahogany, and the icicle

Feat swallows us up, dear-

Death

Winter

Lips

Moths buzzing

Mouths

Fuzzz

Your sweet bomb

Bon bon

There he is!

Again today

Playing the banjo

In every way

A skip to his feat

A song to his beat

People will follow him till the end of the street

His lips didn’t move

But, boy, did his hands!Money laundering legislation uk

Even the busymen danced at their shops and their stands

But the boy was not seen at the end of the day

No one would dream to follow his way

They said he was gods gift to the people of maine

They said he was a boy who just wanted the fame

But he never spoke a word, didnt even look like he breathed

And everyday, without a word, he took his leave

But there was a reason none followed the boy

You think that they would with all of their joy

But no one came back from the forest I fear

They all end up gone, they all disappear

They say they leave to heaven with the little musician

I say thats all a superstition

I say its his banjo that traps its prey

Luers them into an unclosed space

Where they are forgetten by their father and mother

Their friends, their family, their sister and brother

They say that those strings on the banjo he plays

Are strings from the heavens that lightens our day

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But the strings are black metal cords

That cuts the fingers and makes blood pour

Banjo uses the boys blood to play another toon

The boy is enclosed and trapped like the few

That followed its toon and was taken away

By the banjo, the banjo’s tune will luer its prey