The Hamlet of Rotten Bend (A modern day fable)

Rotten Bend a hamlet

in the heart of some old Wood

A castle of Doom, stands idle

its turrets never should

have been allowed permission

to darken this fair land

and living there a boorish Count

most fail to understand

The Northern Lights shine brighter

on the higher levels where

a lad once pissed in bottles

and left them everywhere

custard creams and bourbons

the biscuits of his choice

a weird skull sapping siren shocking

strepitous sounding voice

he who deals in facts

who dares relax

his harems still

loaded with sweet psychiatric maidens

who now will

take the hand of BOR the Count

for solicitous romance

for ruttishness and carnal splendour

just to have that chance

the smell of weed

will clearly feed

the famished for the night

his bed so full of women

lusting for his might

like moths around a candle

in him they feel the cure

a man who deals in facts

rapacious

what a lure!

every womans dream

to be subservient and lend

themselves to taste his sugar

those custard creams my friend

to enjoy his eroticism

and to also kiss his feet

do whatever he demands

Sir Bor of the elite

Noro Virus the diarrhoea

of choice

so amoebics say

the trots

can get you turned on

to a relaxing holiday

bloody sheets and dog poo

littered around the floor

cans of fast food

in plastic sacks

the passion of the BOR

Paradise is evident

inside his tiny mind

his ardour and his coquetry

is clearly underlined

and the appeal of every virgin

that darkens his fair door

his entanglement

his pursuit of love

of course the great Count Bor

< and dog poo will be there the unsuspecting visitors boots, will pretty quickly share the excremental crud that clings as shit does to each toe the detestation of it in loveless hearts may grow The need for servile senorita's wanting of his light his sycophantic slavery he is one parasite living on the love and earnestness of women kind he loves a flowing petticoat a nymph to share his mind he is the greatest stallion who will shag them till they cry they realise his manliness and clearly its no lie to be the kinsman actually on him such girl must need desensitized to women to their wants, their loves indeed all he wants is everything from them and they must share themselves and remain his property just chattels unaware ready to, give of themselves to every rampant thought he is their narcosis their anaesthesia it gets easier as they remain well bought he provides their scant desire and if they ever argue back they perish in his fire his mood become psychotic the dealer in the facts uses his great furrowed mind and says he's never lax actually untruths, investigations fables too

and since he is the great Count Bor

his deceit is followed through

believe the great mans

point of view,

for women really  are

subservient and lesser souls in the land where he is the star