Ant Smith
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Long Poetry

Max Love

Max Love - he's sat in the snug
Max Love - he tries to use his looks
Max Love - he's naughty and bad
Max Love - he's a media slag

Max acquired a posture stoop
From wanking on the loo
Hunched upon the porcelain
In a black and leather suit
Now his gaze is crotchward led
Espying camel hooves
Look at how his eyes will bulge
When he's eyeing you

Max insists on emptying
His ballbag everyday
You can see him a leaking
When he's on the stage
Now his trousers can not hide
His putrid seamen stains
look at how his pockets twitch
When he sees his game


Max can't even concentrate
On breathing in and out
He makes an awful grunting sound
When he opens his sad mouth
He never learned to speak aloud
He only gurgles when he pouts
Look at all the specks of spit
He let's dribble out

Max is hopelessly addicted to
The one thing he can't get
So he is utterly consumed
By the need for sex
It's unfortunate that he exudes
Desperation from his pores
Look at how he likes to spill
His barren wasted spores


Max has hands that creep upon
Strangers' naked flesh
When he's in a crowd of fans
That he likes to rent
Hoping for that victim type
That only can say yes
Look at how he's looking for
Someone to molest

Max is what you might call
A total fanny rat
Like Frankie off of X Factor
He's another twat
He likes to think there's a bit of him
In everyone he meets
Look at how he lumbers round
A flashing his bum cheeks

Max Love - he's sat in the snug
Max Love - he tries to use his looks
Max Love - he says he likes it rough
Max Love - he a little runt

Long Poetry