The F Plus - 183: The Poems of Dishonoré De Ballsack

Episode Date: July 28, 2015

This time it's all poetry all episode! Specifically, erotic poetry. More specifically, "erotic" "poetry", because the things we're reading largely fail to meet the definitions of either of those words. This episode... eyyyyych! There's more. (additional material provided by Eye of Za and Montrith)

I am the cock dragon! I am the cock dragon! I am the cock dragon! Welcome to the F+, a podcast where we must read terrible things with enthusiasm. Ah, shit, I fucked it up. In the room tonight we have Boots Reingear. It's funny how Hypercock makes everything seem so small. Nutshell Gulag! No, cried Apprentice, but Flippy never stopped. She blew him up bigger, and he finally popped.

Stog! To the tune of Pleasant Valley Sunday by the Monkees, inspired by comments to a picture of a snake hydra centaur fucking a two-headed, three-boobed hermaphrodite fox centaur on a leash. And Lemon. Another pushy garnet rutting here in the toe-tone palette world. Goddamn furries sprawl out on all fours and posteriors will get purled.

This Sunday. Hey, F+. Hello. Hey, Lemon. Are you people feeling artistically inspired lately? Not really, but sure. Hey, F+. Hello. Hey, Lemon. Are you people feeling artistically inspired lately? Not really, but sure. Wait, how are both those things true?

I'm with Stog. Oh, wow. So you're just both a conflict. That's so confusing. Well, I've noticed recently that we, as a podcast, as the F Plus podcast, you know, have done some things pretty well, explored some territories pretty well. But one of the things that we've forgotten about, one of the things that we've left behind is poetry. Oh.

We used to read plenty of poetry on this podcast. We haven't read poetry on this podcast in some time, and that's something that needs to change. So, fortunately, CyberVenturer submitted a document where the first thing he did was apologize for submitting the ball-busting document, so thank you for that. Yes, thank you. Thank you for providing it. thank you for apologizing for it

and this is this document is pretty nice it's a bit of a tour de force of various sources of material you'll see what I mean in a minute but we're going to start off

with a poem from where else? The home of fine poetry. I'm talking about DeviantArt. And so this is a poem that's written on top of an image of a woman's fishnet stockings. So it's a poem by Miss hyphen hyphen hyphen hyphen A. And Stog, you'll take that place. Miss fucka. I don't know about that.

There needs to be a different swear word. Asterisk is fuck. Miss shitta. Okay. Squashed by Miss Shitta. As I crawl around the ground, darkness I suddenly see. As I look above, a huge foot is coming down on me. Okay, I mean, that scan down on me. Okay, I mean,

that scan's really poor. Okay, cool. This is Binding of Isaac fanfiction. Yeah, it is so far. I can hear a wicked giggle. The words, I'm gonna squash you flat. Then a leather sole comes down. And that's the end of that. Okay. All I can say end of that. Okay.

All I could say, she was a beauty. Legs that went up high. A stunning pair of shoes. Now that's a way to die. The end? Yep, the end. Happy Cushion says, wonderful, as always. So, this might surprise you, but Miss Shitta's DeviantArt profile is entirely pictures of feet.

That is surprising. No kidding. Ladies' feet. As most are aware, I have a number of pictures of my shoes and feet, as well as featuring in many Gigantus slash Little Men collages, please come and show support and subscribe to my channel. Let me know your views and what you'd like to see! I'm gonna guess feet.

I like to see your feet. Less feet, please! I want knees! Alright, so we're going to be going from there to another source of terrific poetry. I'm talking, of course, about furaffinity.net

the place where oh, you know, whatever. So this is from Fur Affinity and this is Tilda Foxypaws, who has a poem to share here. Yes. Gars' Beauties by me, Foxypaws.

Read by Commander Shepard sometime later in my book. Oh boy. He has a book! Good. Characters belong to Bioware slash EA. Oh no.

Alright, so Garrus Vakarian with feats of overwhelming beauty running and jumping gracefully in the line of duty. Geras Vakarian with feats of overwhelming beauty. Running and jumping gracefully in the line of duty. I wonder, is feats supposed to be a typo there? Attached to a Turian of such cleverness and wit. Wrong wit. Wrong wit.

Sorry. Such cleverness and also he whittles that I was drawn to them was really hard to admit it's a shame that they are in their boots so often hidden from a society that has rules making exposure

forbidden uh from a society that has rules making exposure forbidden. Turian feet have such a bizarre and strange history that I pause for the pause of such boundless mystery. Okay, so in a nutshell, this is... It's couplets all the way down. In a nutshell, this is... We'll get used to that. That one game, right?

What game is this? Mass Effect. What's a Turian? A giant bird person. A giant metallic bird person. The first time I saw them I was awkward and blown away. I was then awkward.

I was awkward. It must have been awkward if you were blown away. If I were to touch them it meant there may be hell to pay. I was willing to risk my reputation and my career, hoping if I found out... Sorry. Hoping if found. Hoping if found out our friendship would still persevere. That's the first rhyme yet that's physically painful.

All right, there's a lot more of this than I thought there was, so I'm going to speed it up. Such a slender gray wonder from out of this blue marble. The mere presence of them causes my speech to garble. Double-toed beauty so shapely and very fine. Just to feel them once was a lifelong goal of mine. Shiny scale plates adorn the top of

your toes and feet. They provide a uniqueness so amazing and neat. Oh, that's neat. I can't help but admire your digi-degrade stance. Digi-degrade? Yeah admire your digi-degrade stance. Digi-degrade? Yeah, your digi-degrade stance, yeah.

It's a word? It is a word, yeah. I learned a new word. We'll put it in a poem! Standing tall on your cute little toes as if to start to dance. Your strange talons trust... Okay.

They trust outwards from your toes. Just the first glance at them start to dance. Your strange talons trust... Okay. They trust outwards from your toes. Just the first glance at them and time seemed to have froze. Why do I find them more sexy than Ashley's chest? Yeah, why? Oh, such perfection that nearly sends me into cardiac

arrest. That's right. I tripped on a few syllables there. I'm going to kick him out of the way. I fell into a pile of syllables. Soul apples. I hope you don't mind my desire for tickle abuse. Just don't be afraid

to vocally raise a flag of truce. Oh, stop it. No, this is awkward and embarrassing for the both of us. Damn. I hope you still like to continue the fun, nevertheless. Nevertheless. Nevertheless.

If it is love, friendship, or desire, I really don't know. I would like to spend more time with you, even so. Even so what? I once dreamed of tickling you as a prisoner of war. Oh, please let me fondle and feel those feeties once more. Oh, my God. Say foxy pause.

I'd like to know a little bit about you, because the poem is obviously terrific, but I'd like to know a little bit about you, because the poem is obviously terrific, but I'd like to know a little bit about the poet. What's your sexual orientation? Asexual. Okay, and what are your fetish interests? Oh, you know, I'm a dominant. I like to make antros, my toys.

Often I bondage my areas, like my paws, upper body. I worship touching, feeling, rubbing, massage, oiling, licking, washing. Tickle, torment, scrub brushes, forks, pinching, nibbling. Light tickling, feathers, fingers, claws, brushes, pens.

What? So yeah, I'm asexual. Is there anything that you're not interested in? Yeah, blood, gore, sex, nudity, human feet Don't care at all about feet Fuck feet, gross Well, human feet specifically Oh, you're right

Turian feet are the best Human feet don't have pink beans on them Oh my god. So this is a site that we've never been to before, which is surprising because the domain is wonderful.

The website we're going through here is called poetrypoem.com I made a poetry poem, guys. I composed a poem entirely out of poetry. I'm fucking so good at this Google shit. Uh, yeah, anyway, so, uh, my name is Zephyr underscore Legato, and, uh, this is my poem. It's called Mr. Happy Sock.

Oh. Hello again, Mr. Happy Sock. Time again to punch the clock. All of these are like, each line is in quotes for some reason. Oh, yeah, because this is the dialogue part. There's a bit of duration later. Oh, for fuck's sake. Okay. I've had a

long effing day, but now it's time to play. Bout to fill your cream donut, cause I'm down in a rut butt. I got eight fingers and one thumb. Beat your brains out till your head is dumb. See, okay. I got eight fingers and one thumb is in quotes.

Right. And then beat your brains out till your head is dumb is the narration? Well, that was something that happened to me, which is going to be evidenced later on. That's either a few fingers too many or a few fingers and a thumb too little. Scramble your

eggs and butter your biscuit. Don't we just love to jive and frisk it? But don't feel bad, my Mr. Happy Sock friend. Uh-uh. There's always tomorrow. Yes. Until I see you

again. Open bracket, semicolon, colon. M dash, semicolon, colon. M dash, semicolon, colon. M dash, less than, equals, equals three. Close bracket. That is a penis ejaculating. Yep.

Open bracket. Wah! Ha! Happy face. Close bracket. Now all skanky and crusty, moldy and musky, I'll throw you away, swish. Two pints again to play. Where is sexy little Miss Hoover?

Time to plug her in and move her. And would you like to upgrade to poetry poem ad-free? No. Can I upgrade to one where I just get the ads and not the poems? Advertise to me. I don't care anymore.

I just don't want to see this. Yeah, so we need to... This document, once again, is a... It's sort of... It's called Fetish and Erotic Poems, what CyberVenture put in here. And this is a poem from FantasyFeeder.com, which was like our fourth or fifth episode. FantasyFeeder.com is a place where people have a fetish for feeding other people, usually women. And, yes, so this poem is called The Fatness of Delight by Bacardi Breezer. And Stog, if you'll take this one, please.

The Fatness of Delight by Bacardi Breezer. A poem of an FFA adoring her huge BHM. I have no idea what the hell that means. I think fat admirer. So I think that's fat fat admirer? Big husky man? A female fat admirer adoring her big something man. Big huge man. Big huge man.

Big horrible man. Yeah, probably. Big humunculus man. Big hungry man. Okay, okay, good. You're a big hungry man! He's actually frozen dinner. I thought they were just talking about things they bought at Best Buy, so that's good clarification.

Or Big Lots. It's Big Handsome Man. I doubt that. The internet's telling me it's Big Handsome Man. Yeah, but I still doubt that. It's on the feederism FAQ. Right, no, I know. I'm saying it. I still doubt that. SSBHM stands for Super Size

Big Handsome Man. Okay, now that we've figured that out, read the poem stock. I must confess, I love his fatness as much as he adores his gut. He loves me rubbing it with gladness and calls me my delicious

brat. He loves his gluttony and sweetness of it is what I so adore. Adore? The feeling of fulfilled completeness as such, but then there's always more. There's always more of secret passions and pleasing moments of the feed.

A combination of reactions that generates our perfect fit. Whoops! That's not even an approximate rhyme! Where am I? What am I writing? I also love the pure abundance of our sex and our space. There's always tasty

smells around us of foods with which I stuff his face. Oh my god. My pretty, fatty, gorgeous glutton. The most adorable of guys. We need to go back pretty, fatty, gorgeous glutton. The most adorable of guys. We need to go back to the site, by the way. I was just remembering how fucked up these relationships

are. Somebody please give us a doc. I want to go back to the site. Yeah. Please do. Great. He lets me pinch his belly button and likes my notes about his size. My notes? Like my script notes? You're fat, but you could be fatter.

Hey, the left lob handle, terrific. The right one? He lets me squeeze his bulky layers of lard on his enormous frame, which always fuses my desires and his delights into one flame. One flame, okay. His roundness is an honored symbol of my deliberate success. We both enjoy it, planning simple, throughout the pleasures of excess.

So when she stabs him with the measuring knife, how many inches of back fat do you think he has? Oh, I read that part of the Bible too. Does he have like a permanent divot in his back where the meat thermometer goes? Like what?

There's oh my god that was way more questions than answers from that. So Brenda how's things been going? Well, I've been working on this FUPA. Oh, that's nice. And then, like, does she show, like, progress photos? You know?

Oh, yeah, look. This is him two years ago. He could go up and down the stairs. Hey, Nutshell. Yes? What? So you're going to be choosing from two different vor-centric poems on furaffinity.net. Oh, good, because it's so much better when you give us choices.

Yeah, so just resign to the fact that that's your life. But you get a choice of which vor-centric poem you would like to read on furaffinity.net. Would you like to read the poem about eating people with your mouth? Or would you like to read the poem about eating people with your cunt? Gee, you know, the one with the cunt is shorter, but...

Up to you! They're both really good. But really good, I mean really bad. Oh, man. The one where you're eating someone, you're cunt, that kind of sums it up. There's really nothing more to say about it. So I think I'm going to go with the more plebeian mouth eating.

All right, terrific. So this is a poem by I.M. Scott. It's on Fur Aff for affinity and it's called ingestion digestion which is i mean i'm pretty sure an anthony ketis rhyme there digestion digestion okay my powers are ought for not i am food, for 700 vor files, one comment, gimme, one dollar, one swallow, sacrificing pleasure, three times a minute, a drop of alcoholic tear, warming your belly. Like, comment, subscribe. You started with rhyming couplets and you're just like, ah, fuck it.

Yeah, pretty much. Enjoying your company, eating you whole, belching you back up, sit back and buckle in, ride down into me, far inside, dirty in there, suffocating while you inflate my gut sac. Three times a minute, you eat me the last time. I'm gone, I'm not coming back because you ate me and digested me. Or scat, take me, kick at me in disgust. May I scream? May I inflate your belly

in semen? Screeing? May I scream in part at cry master before I die? Three down to one. The last meal count. My last servitude.

Your digestion. Your pleasure. I feel no more. The acid scratches my bones and the walls rise as I close my eyes, chose my last pleasure,

my last breath. Oh no, Jesus can't help you now. I am useful once more. I am nourished, your insides and be speaking bloating no more because I hast diedest.

I love poems that start out terribly and then just aggressively get worse. And that one's super tried. Yeah. Eventually, it just became more of a visual aesthetic where the line breaks were.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I like this line breaks were. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I like this line ending here. Man. Oh, shit. You know, Nutshell, I didn't give you the choice, but you could have read a poem about eating with your butt instead. Oh, I love it. I know you didn't like the cotton one, but okay.

All right, so we're going to be going now to the MC Forum. I don't know what the MC Forum, like what kind of MC that is. Master of Ceremonies? No, it is definitely not that. I'm going to guess Mind Control. Oh, I think you're super right. MC MFFF in. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Okay. So, yeah. So, yeah. Mind Control stories. yeah, yeah, yeah. Okay. So, yeah. So, yeah. Mind control stories. MC Horrible Pervert. Okay. So, greetings. My name's Shad...

Shadel? Shad- Shadablan. Shadablan. Shadablan. Shadablan. You put the Shadablan in. So, greetings.

I'm thinking about writing a story for this Valentine's Day, but I wanted to do something different. So this time, I'm mixing it up with werewolves. Were-o-kina. There isn't any actual animal transformation here, so not werewolves. The title will be something like

Were-Bitch Valentine, or Valentine's Day and Were-Bitches Night. Catchy. Yeah so uh in this story when a goody two-shoes woman is cursed she turns into a hot horny bitch version of herself during the night the thing is that the where bitch instinctively seeks to fuck the male who she loved the most but she's not supposed to fuck. This usually means someone who is blood-related. Oh, no! Uh-huh.

For, uh, there will also be other werewolves werewolves things adapted. For example, I took the classical poem, unsighted, I guess, Even a man who is pure in heart and says his prayers by night may become a wolf when the

wolf bane blooms and the autumn moon is bright. And I took that and I changed it to even a woman who is pure as light and says her prayers every night. Okay. Right. her prayers every night, okay, right, may become a bitch when an incest rose is sent each night after the February sun is set.

Okay, so you took a poem when you wiped your ass with it. Great job. He could just call it a kiss from an incest rose on a grave. Oh! The more I stay with you, the more creeped out you become.

Anyway, I surely could use some comments and thoughts to see if this story would be worth to be posted. I also accept suggestions or comments on the adapted poem. It's the first time I do something like that, and I'm not quite sure about the incest rose. Yeah, neither am I.

I heard it's a rose. I heard it's a rose. Or other romantic flower given to one of you by your biological parents on Valentine's Day. My parents are V.C. Andrews. Shit.

That's a good reference, dog. I'm laughing because I read some of those when I was a teenager. Of course you did. Every girl your age has done that. Alright, so now this is... Man, there's just so many different sites here.

I want the next one. Well, that makes perfect sense. So we are on everything two. And this poem is... What's this poem called, Boots? Oh, it's called Wapscallion. No, it's not. That's your name.

I'm sorry. I'm Wapscallion. It's called Inflation. My name is a poem. I am Wapscallion. Okay. All right. From Fort Chan, I learned of the fetish inflation.

Embarked on a fortnight of mad masturbation. And drew up some sketches of my own creation. I felt that I had a new hunger to feed. Okay, okay, okay, good, good. Your syntax is so solid. I really liked the play of Four Chan, four nights of masturbation Terrific

Okay, thank you The sight of an oxygen pump makes me swoon And as I think of the flesh I could cause to balloon The idea woman's turgid and wound as the moon And tethered, ready to float off if weed The idea woman's turgid and wound as the moon, and tethered, ready to float off if we'd. Okay, every poem has a first draft.

Hopefully this is yours, so... No, it's the last line that rhymes on these four phrases. It makes sense. No, I know, I understand that. I just, you know, second verse there got a little weaker, but maybe you'll move on. It'll be fine. But further desires would soon manifest in my heart or my loins,

although I'd seen the best. Hey, you had a speech impediment and then you turned French. What happened then? No, I didn't. You were just imagining that. Oh, okay. The net had to offer to myself, I confessed. These pictures were failing to fulfill my need. Okay, so we're just going to keep with that poem.

I needed to boat up a girl I could touch. Would using an air pump be asking too much? I mean, yeah, actually it would, because it kind of goes against all human physiology. Okay, probably, but over a date going Dutch. My bono is a mistake. I had an idea. What if we were to breed? What? I hate you, blow me up, Elmo.

To breed. Over dessert, some cream pies Bavarian. Ooh, boy, that's gonna be... That's okay. I noticed our viewpoints were often contrarian. Okay, fuck you! Fuck you! Why did you try so hard to get Bavarian in there

and then misuse contrary? I thought I did a really good job of it. Okay, well, maybe the third line really wraps that whole thing up. Okay, my interest in her was strictly ovarian. Ew! So I took her to bed, and I planted my seed. I feel like you have two different conflicting desires. There's one to inflate her.

Oh, because I can inflate her, I'm just going to get her pregnant, and that's kind of like inflating her. Yeah, you got it. Okay, great. Cool. The pregnancy took, and she started to swell. And while I was in heaven, she saw it as hell. After the birth,

she swank. I could tell that inflation in images was more at my speed. That was gross. So, do you think it's ever a disappointment for these guys? Like the inflation fetishists are like, I'm going to get somebody pregnant and that'll basically be the, oh, that's not the same at all. No.

Okay, so. Man. I just have one more thing to say as web scally in here A hemoplay is the use of a hemor in the erotic arena Oh, thank god Okay It was most famously portrayed

in the romance film, Misery The romance film? The romance film Yeah, sure The romance film, Miserwee. The romance film? The romance film. The romance film. Okay. Yeah, sure. Miserwee. Yeah, the romance film.

I'm nodding and agreeing and backing away. I just wish for that love. Uh-huh. I think all of us at one time have always wished that we could be Kathy Bates in that movie. We'll look at the time. Okay, so, boy, there's a number of different inflation poems. There's a number of different inflation sites. Yeah.

I think we're going to skip over all of those, but thanks for that anyway. So, here we go. Back into Fur Affinity. And this is a poem by Squirrel Fox, and it is called The Rave. So that sounds fucking exciting and sexy and, you know, fun and fast-paced. So Stog, take us to The Rave, won't you please?

We're going to The Rave. I'm a squirrel fox. Gotta take some ecstasy, read some poetry. It's going to be a fun-ass night. Check out this hands dance I do with these glow sticks. I'm under hydrated. Help me. Hooray!

The rave. The lights come down. the beats come on, pulsing through speakers, pounding in my ears and in my chest and in my soul. Oh, yeah. I feel the rhythm. Lasers and black lights reflect off leather and studs and chains and fishnets and writhing bodies, an orgiastic mass of flesh and fur, smells of sweat and booze and smoke

fill my lungs and cloud my brain as I lose myself in the moment. Man, you have no, absolutely no structure here. That's what rave parties are like. No, there's three lines and then there's a carriage return. That's the structure.

Okay, you're right, you're right. I'm so sorry. And suddenly, the air is clear, as I and a dozen others make for their room to get down and dirtier. Okay, so now... Oh, great. A furry orgy is happening at this rave. Yep. Here we go. Great.

Yep. In a whirl of fur and limbs, I find myself in the room, on the bed, and in a flash, I'm surrounded by that warm embrace. We've actually left the rave, good. Yep. The Rave by SquirrelFox. Cleared vision reveals the sculpted head, the follow-me eyes and mobile jaw, the faux fur with the markings of a fox. Oh, God. And that's when I realized I'm not on ecstasy, I'm on PCP.

I need to spill the blood! Realization dawns that my clothes are gone, and that luxurious fur is against my skin, the fox's body as close to mine as can be. This is the worst Five Nights at Freddy's sequel I've ever seen. Well, I don't know, Have you played all of them? Because the sequels look pretty bad. Something stiff prods between my legs,

and I part them, opening myself fully to that warm embrace, too intoxicated to think. Okay. I stand by my original statement. Slowly, that heat spreads me open, sinking in deep, and the warm embrace is complete as every tender part is caressed. The fur on the outside, his maleness inside. The Rave by Squirrel Thugs.

This is what happens at raves. I'm the stud's turkle of raves. Oh my god! Jesus! Christ. The scents are new. The aroma of sweat and lust and lube.

That warmth inside pleasuring every sensitive nerve. Powerful thrusts asserting a tender dominance. Comma. Comma. Carriage return. Until all at once the tension is released. every sensitive nerve, powerful thrusts asserting a tender dominance, comma, comma, carriage return, until all at once the tension is released, all in a burst of liquid love, spilling forth inside,

the ecstasy carrying me to a blissful sleep. I got high! Somebody fucked me! The Rave by Squirrel Fox. I'm full of dicks. I love raves. Because they're full of dicks. I love raves. Because they're full of dicks. Much like a rave, I am

full of dicks. Right, yeah, exactly. I'm gonna read you a poem, and I'm not gonna tell you where this poem is from until we're done. Okay, so this is And I'm not going to tell you where this poem is from until we're done. Okay. So this is a poem, I believe, by Platypus.

And it is called I Kiss My Baby Everywhere. Okay. I kiss my baby everywhere, for she is really sweet. I kiss her on her forehead, and I kiss her on her feet. I kiss her in the kitchen. I kiss her on her forehead, and I kiss her on her feet. I kiss her in the kitchen. I kiss her in the hall. I plant one on her sweet, soft mouth. Up against the wall.

I kiss my baby everywhere. I do it all the time. It's so much happy fun. I even wrote this rhyme. Gross. Gross, gross, gross. My baby's name is Kimiko, and she is really hot. I kiss her on her boobies.

I've even kissed her bot. Haruba. Okay. Haruba. I thought that maybe she made bots for Unreal Tournament or something. I kiss my baby everywhere. I just cannot resist. If I couldn't kiss her, I'd be really pissed.

I kiss her in the morning and I kiss her in the night. I kiss her on her left one and then on her right. Don't specify what one is, but that's fine. I kiss my baby everywhere. I kiss her long black hair. I've even kissed her... Oh... Down there. In the cellar? black hair. I've even kissed her oh down there.

I kiss her where she likes it. I kiss her on her nose. I kiss her in the middle. I kiss her little cute pink toes. I kiss my baby everywhere. That's just what I do. She's just so kissable. I love her through and through. I know that she

can't kiss me back and yet I know I feel thatable. I love her through and through. I know that she can't kiss me back, and yet I know I feel that every time I kiss her, it feels, well, quite real. Regards, Al, Kissable Kimmy, and Yummy Yoshi. And that was a poem from www.dollforum.com. That's right, the forum where people talk about their fuck dolls. Oh, no.

I really wish you'd tell me that. So, yeah, you could piece it back there and understand, like, why she can't kiss him back because she's a... And then the whole bot thing, I don't know if that... I feel like that's...

I don't know what happened there, because that means he peeled away the skin and kissed the metal skeleton underneath, which is believable. He peels the skin, it strokes the meat. You know, if you hadn't told me that, if you haven't told me the website, I would have at least thought this was a slightly confusing and depressing love poem.

But now, my night is ruined. It's a much more confusing and depressing love poem. Nutshell. Yes? I think you would need to read a poem about a penis, right? Oh, sure. Okay. Well, this is a poem about a penis.

It's by Cal Y. Pygia. Calypygia. Okay, fine. Calypygia. And this poem is called Obelisk of Blood. Oh, God. I wish Jack Chick were here.

He would read this in a totally metal voice. Obelisk of Blood! Yep. Okay. A penis erect is an expression of sorest need a tower of flesh and obelisk of blood it draws into

itself all consciousness all thought all belief all emotion becomes the mind and body the self itself is there any wonder even men want a second yeah yay yay I liked how short that was. That was, yeah. Hey, Callipygia, can you give me the titles of any other poems that you've written? Sure, and they all sound like rejects from a Cannibal Corpse album.

They all sound like successes from a Cannibal Corpse album, to be honest. At an ostentatious funeral. Attempting breasts. Barbecued spaniels. Breasts are people too. They're not. Cosmic mating call. Orgasmic rebellion. Oh, I take it back.

This sounds more like maybe a Muse album or something. Pagan birth pangs. Penis spelunker. Ooh, I think I played that video game. Penis spelunker. Um, pink eye, squirtle madness, semen as ectoplasm, semen missiles, silver surfer skulls, the art of spanking, the thong song. Hey, wait a minute.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I don't think that one was yours. Oh, God. With every spurt you spe yours. Oh, God. With every spurt you spew. And zombie baby. These are all titles from an album Frank Zappa's never going to release, ever. Especially now.

Yeah. Red thong, waistband, pointing like an arrow, down through cleavage, deeper than any valley, blind nature ever carved from mountains of stone. Doesn't really work. Stop that. Okay. Okay, so, Stog. Hello.

I'm going to give you two options. Only one is correct, and I hope it's clear to you which one is. So, Stog, here's two choices here. The first is a poem from Hello Poetry and it is it is called For the Cute Boy Who Holds Back His Sneezes

by Zach and the other one is from All Poetry and it is Anal Fetish by Destroying Angel hmm Anal Fetish or the cute boy who holds back his sneezes?

Mm-hmm. You know what? I think I'm going to go with anal fetish. Alright, for the cute boy who holds back his sneezes by Zack. Alright, great. Take it away. It's a riff on the passionate shepherd to his love.

Wow! Fuck, I hope people are Take it away. It's a riff on the passionate shepherd to his love. Wow. Fuck. I hope people are really happy about the references today. Because I know I am. I took a poetry class once. For the cute boy who holds back his sneezes. It's a good choice, Doug. Oh, this is somehow worse than anal fetish.

No, it's not. I read the other one. Don't be scared to sneeze in Math 105. Blow these numbers off the page so I can finally have an excuse to blow off some time with you. Boy, that's like dashboard confessional level right there. I want to memorize what that sneeze sounds like. Unique to the individual.

A chew? Each sound varies upon sneezer's voice, allergies, voice box, larynx, even personality. If that's all true, I bet even you sneeze as sexy as a motherfucker. Bam. Bam.

Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam. I don't even know what that reference was. Sexy back. These motherfuckers don't know how to sneeze.

The only thing that I want more wet and slimy than the inside of your elbow is the way that we make love. Oh, baby, that's it. Sneeze for me. Sneeze harder. Sneeze like you've never sneezed for a man before, and then sneeze harder.

I wonder how often this Zach gets yelled at by his math teacher. Just standing next to somebody's desk. Yeah, sneeze harder, bro! Don't ever hold a sneeze back. You're not only killing brain cells, but killing me as well. I want to see what kind of tornadoes you can throw when a dust storm

gets at you. What demons are you hiding, not letting Christ expel? Wow, so just all sorts of... I mean, because first of all, I don't think that brain cells thing is true, right? You don't kill brain cells while sneezing, do you? Well, not the way you do it.

Is there a better way that I could be sneezing? Yes. Okay. Takes training. Don't be ashamed. Are you scared that just your sneeze, incorrect usage of you are, will create tsunami waves of attention? If so, I'm buying a front row ticket wearing nothing but arm floaties and a raincoat.

Oh, boy. So, this guy's sneeze is pretty incredible. Ugh, there's more. Yep. If you get sick, kiss me with your breathe. And we'll get over this cold feet together. Hey, how come ugh, there's more is not an F plus catchphrase? Sometimes you say, but wait, there's more, don't you?

Yes, you say it like, but wait, there's more. Wait, there's more. Oh, no. I want to know your sneeze so when we are cooking dinner you can be halfway through inhale and I'll have a tissue in the words bless you already trotting out of my mouth

you do not want to eat dinner at these guys' place your spelling and grammar is gradually getting worse and now you're like preemptively like stopping his sneeze which seems I mean boner shrinking he controls his sneeze, which seems... I mean, boner shrinking. He controls his sneeze, has the power to destroy his sneeze.

It's called sneeze edging. Oh! So that means that later on you can sneeze really powerfully. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sneeze your whole face off. I like the usage of the word otta. It adds a little Elmore Leonard-style flair to the word otter. It adds a little Elmore Leonard-style

flair to the dialogue. Yep. I want to be the blessed one. To be within hearing distance. Be able to bless you back. See you come out of your shell for.237 seconds. There to

catch the signs of your anatomy jumping off the cliff of your nose. I'm kind of a reserved person, just generally, but when I sneeze, I'm my true self. I want to be in the bookstore, reading superhero graphic novels. Oh, boy. And hear you in your boredom, two floors up at Starbucks, sneeze. And be able to say, yes, that's my man. He did that shit.

Yeah, he sneezed up in this Barnes & Noble. You hear that one, Peter Parker? Try to dodge your spidey sense around that one. That's a sneeze that'd make the phone booth go inside Clark Kent. Would make the phone booth go... The phone booth would implode? So Peter Parker is not able to dodge

his own Spidey Sense. All I can think of is the snot clone of the tick in that one episode. Dodge your Spidey Sense around that one. Right, and then the phone booth goes inside Clark Kent. Mm-hmm. All right.

We've entered a real topsy-turvy world here. The phone booth is inside him, and then there's another smaller Clark Kent inside that phone booth, and then it's recursive. Okay. It's a Clark, it's a Superman recursion. It's like one of those animated GIFs. We'll have two kids named Gesundheit and Salud. The cat's name will be Achoo. Unless you're allergic to cats.

Then we're going to have a bunch. So I can hear the symphony of your nostrils on the daily. If you think this poem is gross, wait till you see the way I sneeze when I'm thinking of you. Wait till you see the way I sneeze when I'm thinking of you. I think he's using sneeze as a metaphor for something, but I'm not quite sure what. Nope. I don't think so. I really don't think so at all.

No. Sneeze means sneeze. How do you think we're going to... I think we're going to... Oh, yeah. Did you like being your true self there? Well, yeah. It's the first time I've done this podcast, so there's hundreds of hours of me babbling,

but there's only.237 seconds of me being the real me. Okay, so... Okay, Boots. We got to come down to the end of this uh 32 pages uh cyber venture gave us here um so we are absolutely uh skipping over i don't know which is a let it go parody um because i have a three-year year old child and thusly spend all of my time trying to not hear that song. And instead so here's your

choices. Choice number one is you, me and Aunt Flo which It's not for the squamish. Is this a Big Bad Voodoo Daddy parody?

Sure And the second choice is Sonic X B4 Xmas Please pick Sonic Please pick Sonic Oh man So obviously I have a

menstruation one and a Sonic the Hedgehog one to choose from. This is a very difficult choice. It's up to you. I guess I'm going to have to go with the Sonic the Hedgehog one. Interesting. It is a very difficult choice.

Well, Stog's happy about that. There was also some diaper fetish adult baby stuff in there, too. But, well, Stog's happy about that. There was also some diaper fetish adult baby stuff in there, too. Okay. But, you know, you went for the sonic poem on furaffinity.net. Yeah, this will be like our fourth time doing a Night Before Christmas one, too, so...

Oh, shit. Why? Why? Because, like... Actually, don't fuck this up. Do the menstruation one. Okay. Alright. Here we go. You, me, and Aunt Flo down by the schoolyard. Because like Actually don't fuck this up do the menstruation one Okay alright Here we go you me and Aunt Flo Down by the schoolyard By Jeremy Yeah and he

Included his picture so thanks He does look like A big bad voodoo daddy guy I've been out of the town on a business trip A horny fucker I am I can't wait to slip My thriving cock and your hairy twat I walk in to find you're still fast asleep

I shut off my clothes and quietly creep In the bed but there's something I forgot It's that time of the month for you to bleed My dick is so hard I want to fuck you indeed So I say what the hell And slam it into your cunt Oh wow You are startled you indeed. So I say what the hell and slam it into your cunt. Oh, wow.

You are startled by the feel of me deep inside. I smell that fishy odor with your legs open wide. The menstrual juices are flowing, to be blunt. Oh, well, okay. Pardon my French, I guess. Alright. You guys okay? Should I just...

I'll just keep going. Never mind. These white sheets are ruined with the stains, and the mattress will hold whatever remains from our goddamn thoughtless and carnal lusts. R? R. I don't think R factors into it.

She was asleep. I'm doing this for the both of us. I don't give a shit about this fucking cover. I got a hunger for you, my white trash lover. I swear these nuts were about to bust. Man, man, the whole AAB rhyme scheme, like, we've seen a couple of these guys try it, and, like, none of them can close this.

To hell with the stench, I'll earn my red wings. I know when I eat you the joy that it brings. Oh, boy. I never have done it. To help with the stench, I'll earn my red wings. I know when I eat you the joy that it brings. Oh, boy. I never have done it, so I'll give this a go. I doubt you haven't done it. You seem to be... Okay. This is so profoundly deliciously dirty and berserk.

As on my rouge-colored wang, you suck and jerk. Jesus! This taboo menage a trois ofang, you suck and jerk. Jesus! This taboo menage a trois of you, me, and Aunt Flo. Well, thanks for putting your picture on the internet. Fuck you, Jeremy C. You are

gross and you live with your mom. Ugh! God! Alright, I think we probably need a really nice good poem to close us out with, right? Yeah, but we're not going to get one, are we? So we're going to close this off with a nice palate cleanser, which, of course, is called Big Man 7, Your Mouth is a Cock Hotel. Man, anti-stegosaurus. We all deserve this..T. Stegosaurus.

We all deserve this. Yeah, we all deserve this. What have we done to deserve this? None of us can get cheated out of this. So I think we can just split it up easily into four parts. All right, so this is Big Man 7, Your Mouth is a Cock Hotel, and we're all doing this. Here we go.

This first line is baffling. Come here, flower face, and let me put a dollar bill in between your voluptuous ass pancakes. This was written by Dan Lacey, wasn't it? This was written by Dan Lacey, wasn't it? Your ears are turpentine sea serpents and your mouth is a cock hotel. Yeah, I said it. I'm going to say it again later. I'm going to paint a modern Picasso

all over your face, flower face. Just watch me. We'll jump into space and then drink some robots. You're a clockwork profiterole. A digital cum bucket. A gurgling crow magnet erector set. What? Don't look so dejected, honey buckets. I ain't gonna

fuck you so jagged you'll need a map and a compass. Just go find a didongo to bomb. Just go find a didongo to bomb. Zelda reference time. Oh, is that what that is? Is that okay? Yeah, Dodongo dislikes smoke.

And I know how hot and crusty that gets you. Yeah, I'm-a be waiting in your closet, dolled up like a fancy-pants mudkip. Pokemon reference. Yeah. Sipping milk from a mobster's tea, your mouth is a cock-o-tail. I'm ready to check in, baby tush. a mobster's teeth, your mouth is a cock hotel. Not ready to check in, baby tush. I've already shoved

my luggage under your thighs and seismogoned your arteries. So full of 501 copyright 3 cum, you'll cum strobe lights until next Saturnalia, bitch face.

Your mouth is a lumpy vestibule. Your mouth is an intercurral handbasket. Your mouth is a runny-nosed panty brat. Your mouth is a lumpy vestibule. Your mouth is an intercurral handbasket. Your mouth is a runny nose panty brat. Your mouth is a cock hotel bitch face and I'm the interim director of guest relations. No, I'm the interim erector of masturbations. The igloo confectioner of fucky

fuck fuck fuckingation. I feel like this is all Eminem's fault. This is definitely Eminem's fault. I'm a fuck you so pert you'll need a Buick Skylake to pay off the cement. I'll skewer you with more sabers than you'd find in the backseat of a billion Buick-less sabers. I'll be your saber-cocked tiger saber-face. I'm the cock dragon!

I am the cock dragon! I'm a magic cock wizard of enchanting cock magic. Your mouth is the Necronomicon. Your mouth is a cock hotel, and tonight we're going to burn that fucker to the ground. But enough chittery, chittery, chattery ass lips. Back at my place, I've got a steam-powered fuck robot with your name all over it. Bring rope. Because I forgot to pack some, and it's kind of embarrassing,

actually. I usually keep my dungeon pretty well equipped, but you know, your mouth is a cock hotel. Poem's gone off the rails. This poem has a life of its own. We gotta trap it. This poem is a cock hotel. I feel like

that poem, like, I mean, you know, despite the intent, like, your mouth is a cock hotel. I mean, it's a reasonable metaphor. It works. So he starts with your mouth is a cock hotel. And then, like, no other metaphor, like, lands at all. Your mouth is an intercruel handbasket? A runny Noah's panty

brat? What? He got a real kick on things that were sabers. Yeah, the interim erector of masturbations. What does that mean? He erects masturbations? What does that mean? I don't get it. But what did we learn from all of this

poetry? Poetry is hard. Poetry is easy. Good poetry is hard. Jeremy C. is an awful human being. That's true, yep. People are all awful human beings. Who do you think...

Because I know that... I feel like i feel like a like the the english education uh seems to have kind of fallen off over decades like the the amount of kind of like required reading um that people have had we're delivered less and less we are delivered a very selective no no no i know i agree with that no totally totally totally but i'm saying that people that are older than me read more poetry in school than I read in school. I mean, as required. And then I have read more poetry in school than people who are younger than me have. In my day, they had a language arts class and they liked it.

But what I'm saying is that I, like, I feel like that people just don't have much of a base to go on at all these days. Like, there's not... And so I wonder who these people are reading, like, who they're looking up to. Like, when they're writing poetry,

who they're imagining themselves as. You know what I mean? The other people who write poetry like this probably on Tumblr. The guys from Naruto. One thing I'll say about this is that all of this material came

from a dozen different sites that have been provided to us by CyberVenture, but also material from I Have Zaha and apparently Montreth. Well, obviously Montreth threw in there at some point. Montreth dips her feet into everything. Her feet are disgusting.

They are. But all of this material we've given us, it looks nice. Like, if you stand, like, five feet back from the screen, you're like, oh, that's some nice-looking poetry. The problem is when you see the words. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Well, I mean, with exceptions. It's all formatted very words. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Well, I mean, well, with exceptions. It's all formatted very nicely. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Like, they kind of, I mean, maybe that's the thing. Maybe that's what you, these people are doing is just kind of like, you know, looking at poetry as lorem ipsum. Like, you know, okay, so it should take up this much space. Okay, got it. As Laura Mipsom, like, you know, okay, so it should take up this much space. Okay, got it. Now I'll just force some rhymes into here by turning the English language 360 degrees into itself. I mean, they don't even have, like, a sense of meter. I mean, there's the people that start out rhyming and then go into just, like, whatever blank verse

and then do a couple of couplets and then we're just like fuck it. Yeah, I need seven extra syllables to wrap up this rhyme. Eh, fuck it. It's almost a shame too because like, you know, like you know, I mean genuinely like our first goal here is to kind of like, you know make fun of people because it's fun but like you know, there is something

that I like to do a lot in this which is, you know, to try to understand a little bit of, like, what are you doing? Like, why are you doing that? Why is your brain like that? And I feel like if there was, like, not even just better constructed,

but, like, just better conceived poetry, I feel like it could be a look into their heads. You know what I mean? Or maybe it is a look inside their heads. I think it's still a look into their heads. You know what I mean? Or maybe it is a look inside their heads. Just how garbled it is. I think in many of these cases it was a look into their very damaged heads. The website is always

thefbl.us and if you're listening to this we've got stickers for sale. Unless they sold out, which is a possibility. And check out Ball Pit. It's been very active lately. It has been active lately. What, what threads have you liked lately on ball pit?

Off the top of my head. Yep. I am drunk. I like the read stuff from the internet thing. I'm, I'm putting a, I'm putting a random recordings up there for people to listen to. Oh,

that's totally true. Yeah. I've like the, a while ago, the people started doing their own recordings where they kind of would post. They'd find little bits

and record themselves reading it sort of like tiny little F pluses. And it's been really fun to look at. Yeah, so check out those sites and buy a sticker or two and then listen to this podcast.

Bye! Bye! Check out those sites and buy a sticker or two and then listen to these podcasts. Bye. Bye. Bye. When you said, when you said Naruto for a second, I was like, Oh God, Pablo Naruto.