Month: April 2019
Slave To Fashion
Clearing out the clutter
Is definitely no mean feat
When your cupboards are exploding with crap
Because you’re a hoarder like me
I like to collect clothes
I’ve had some since 1999
Half of which don’t fit
Though I’ll never give up trying
Apparently three wardrobes
And a man size cupboard
Two whopping chests of drawers
Aren’t enough space so I’m buggered
Therefore got to bite the bullet
And shed a load of gear
The charity shop will love me
Though I’ll be also shedding some tears
When you’re like me
Nothing goes out of fashion
And flamboyant dressing
Is one of my passions
The actress in me
Likes to get titivated up
Thus I’ve a range of costumes
All manner of get ups
Sometimes I look a sight
But I really have such fun
Assembling my outfits
Come snow, sleet, rain or sun
The Imelda Marcos
Of Crouch End
A million pairs of shoes
And of coats, about ten thousand
A vast selection of frocks
In an array of sizes
Woolly jumpers galore
And let’s not forget the trousers
Then there’s the skirts
And a plethora of tops
And last but not least
Pyjamas, gym wear and the knickerbox
So many garments
For so many occasions
I need a walk in closet
That I lack one is a source of frustration
I’ve even used up the space
Underneath my bed
It’s chockablock with scarves and hats
Because the wardrobe is on its last legs
The door fell off today
For honestly it’s full to the brim
And in trying to force it shut
I’ve gone and destroyed the hinge
A lesson at last to be learned
Time to admit I suppose
That I’m a shopaholic
And hopelessly addicted to clothes
I blame that bloody snake
In the Garden Of Eden
For if Adam and Eve hadn’t scoffed the forbidden fruit
We’d be butt naked whatever the season
But the swine, he made them sin
And to cover their abject shame
They attired themselves with fig leaves
Never to be starkers again
And fig leaves led to fashion
They say The Devil Wears Prada
And that snake was the devil in question
Thus possessed am I by that blighter
An exorcism perhaps
Would be more suited to my needs
Or perhaps nudity could hit the catwalks
And become trendy then I would be freed!
Dream on, you silly bint
For, alas, that clearly won’t happen
So continue to purge or resist the urge
To be a dedicated slave to fashion.
Unzipped
Which bright spark insisted
That a dress should have its zip
Mostly located at the spine
Running from neck to hip?
Did they assume all women
And transvestites of this world
Would have a 24/7 partner
Or professional contortionist skills?
Or that we could simply sprout
A pair of extra long arms
Like flaming Inspector Gadget
That extend beyond the norm?
You need to be an Octopus
To zip yourself up alone
With a PHD in yoga
Like a coil chord from an old phone
The times I’ve almost slipped a disc
Trying to get my damn dress to fasten
Upside down, reaching for my butt
Bending over backwards
Twisting, turning, toiling
To no bloody avail
And still I can’t yank the zip up
Much higher than my tail
Without really starting to wobble
Almost hitting the deck
Wrestling hard, cursing out loud
Profusely working up a sweat
It’s really such a ball ache
And to admit this I am loathe
But frequently I leave the house
Indecently exposed!
Steaming Hardcore
Unbelievably I was just offered
An actual VAGINAL STEAMING
My ‘WTF?!’ expression
Shows I’ve no concept of its meaning
But I sure as hell don’t intend
To suspend my little miff
Over a pan of boiling water
If you get my drift?!
I’ve never been good at squatting
Even whilst in Japan
Those Asian loos defeated me
I fell straight into the can
So don’t even think about
Asking me to hover
Over a contraption
That will get me hot and bothered
Right where the sun don’t shine
In a ritualistic fashion
Surrounded by a ring of hippi’s
Who’ll be watching me and chanting
Whilst I apparently perch
On a floral-bedecked commode
Filled with liquid and herbs
With my legs akimbo
My foo-foo now on fire
As it naturally begins to cook
Til I can’t sit down for a month
Without screaming as loud as fook!
Who the hell invented?
This ridiculous New Age game?
It gives another dimension
To the entire vaping craze
How addicted must one be
To nasty nicotine?
If one’s mouth and also one’s
minge
Needs a hit or three?
VAGINAL STEAMING?
Are you out of your mind?!
My labia aren’t legumes
To be served with butter and thyme
If your ‘yoni’ is that filthy
That soap and water won’t do
And it needs industrial cleaning
Combined with magic too
To make it pristine again
At least spare us the spectacle
Of doing it in public
It’s just not acceptable
To contaminate my newsfeed
With such a load of trash
Expecting me to cough up
For an assault like this on my gash
I’d probably never recover from
And certainly never live down
What exactly do you take me for?
You ‘right on’, crazy clown!
Normally I love
A bit of alternative s**t
I sometimes talk to unicorns
But this just takes the p**s
So thank you but no thanks
Though I’m all for Flower Power
I’ll maintain the hygiene of my flaps
When I am in the shower.