i hate small teeth
14th September 2009nobody likes your posturing
i mean the way you sit down to write
distilling so-called
existential truths
no, more than that
everybody wants your funny
your siren song
a floppy hat to signal the way
you in the front, with your eyes open
you don’t know where you’re going
you’re going to get us killed
ah, fuck it
nobody wants to see the inside of your nose
with a flashlight
when you’ve been picking at it
with a penknife
nobody wants you to speak in absolutes
nobody likes the way you hang your head
everyone hates that you’re so this
we’re all ticking our boxes
15th September 2009 at 1:40 am
Small teeth are kind of weird looking.
15th September 2009 at 1:59 am
I like I Hate Small Teeth
15th September 2009 at 7:56 pm
Oh, I know who this is about! This is about … it is, isn’t it? It’s about … yes, yes it is! I knew it!
16th September 2009 at 9:57 pm
Rose: They put me in mind of small yappy dogs.
Otto: I Hate Small Teeth likes you back, snookums.
AUW: IT’S ALL ABOUT MEEEEEEE! Remember?
17th September 2009 at 2:48 am
i love england
17th September 2009 at 7:31 pm
So do I, Mr Young; however, let it be noted that this poem has absolutely nothing whatever to do with English teeth!
17th September 2009 at 8:17 pm
No, the English have big teeth so they can spend their time talking with silly posh accents, overly pronouncing their r’s, and sucking blood like upper middle-class vampires.
So this poem is clearly about the French.
I did think it was about the Welsh, but it didn’t mention coal mines, leeks and male voice choirs.
Then again it could be about Romanians.
This game could go on for hours. So let me end it once and for all. This poem is clearly about Icelandic puffins.
21st September 2009 at 2:09 am
I will always be in favor of the conclusion involving puffins.