6 thoughts on “Pulp Poetry”

1. 

   Thanks for this morning’s giggle. Love it.

   1. 

      Very pleased to have provided you with one.

      1. 

         HA! squared. (re your response)

2. 

   OMG! I snorted my coffee. Lol.

3. 

   That is on a par with “You caught the last bus home”, the first of yours that I ever read and the one that persuaded me to seek you out. Well done.

   For the middle-aged men among us, I wrote this a while ago after a run in with the pernicious gland:

   What is the point of my prostate?

   It doesn’t read me books,

   Write even the most banal poetry

   Or snap me with meaningful looks

   What is the point of my prostate?

   It never cooks, caters or cleans

   Or brings me a nice cup of tea when I’m down

   Or says I look great in my jeans

   What is the point of my prostate?

   It never remembers my name

   It never once sent me a birthday card

   And Christmas is just the same

   Just what is the point of my prostate?

   Its place in my life was once seminal

   But now when it isn’t just blocking my flow

   Its role in my life’s pretty minimal 

    

   So what is the point of my prostate

   It’s like an annoying child

   It used to make messes when I was asleep

   But now it’s just easily riled

   I repeat, what’s the point of my prostate

   Would having it out be a breeze?

   It’s ended my sex life already

   Just what is the point of it, please?

   Not as good as yours by any means, but, if not heartfelt, at least groin felt.

   Kind regards,

   Chris House

   aka I M Spardagus

   1. 

      Thanks, Chris. That’s excellent, as ever.