My favorite curse word is fuck, for obvious reasons
it’s like seasoning, as if salt in soup it flavors
the entire world, acting an umbrella part it plays
tunes on which to end and to start, signaling ejaculation
destruction and frustration, stubbing a toe
pained yelping eruption, ceremonial victory
flagellation enhancement, it wears masks
abundant as the day is long, and I love it.
Shit is number two, on my list as well
existing colloquially, meaning general detritus
piled in a wheelbarrow, a weapon of apocalypse
fertilizer ideally, good for growing bonds
to feed plants and air, the best in bouquet
hilarious and lovely, an unwelcome surprise
for debutante balls, in punch bowls especially
useful flowing, solitary signal stench.
As the cock crows at dawn, dick is number three
when used correctly, with the suffix -ish
describing celebrities, authority and fluency
set in a sneer, introducing itself fiendishly
everywhere it can fit, stands as pointed
satire for gender politics, most are tiny
bits of self importance, aesthetically accurate
found art, especially when fully erect.
At bottom is the ass, end of heavy meaning
for the fourth part, posterior is the central
function of fat, booming bass drum parump
parump parade leader, eyes are drawn down
to its focal point, rhythmically rise and fall
hypnotizing both genders, as well it suffixes
panoramic descriptors, jerk and candy ones
smell what a stone cooks, barely a swear.
Bitch is a tricky snitch, betraying sexist potential
leanings of spirit, can’t ignore aesthetic beauty
to the sound of it has, onomatopoetic expression
descriptive to a tee, sniveling backstabbers
conspiratorial politicians, mostly wastrel males
hiding under figureheads, scratching a societal itch
which seems obligatory, patriarchal mastery
sinking ship captain, command no respect.
Number six is unrelated, shunned and forgotten
bastard of an unwed home, but times change
mending wounds of slight, suddenly wedlock is cool
as it should be, having lost its vulgarity this term
describes only a villain, general perfunctory
graphic parlance, when spewed with emotion
substantially portioned out, tagged by an exclamation
point when uttered with vigor, it is not nothing.
Finally comes a friend, for tits are pleasing
as they move up and down, they sway and bop
the rhythm of time, jiggle jangle or perk up
welcoming a sunny day, as the star rises
they draw my gaze, unforgettable on film
though in person heaven, unfathomably soft
welcoming a lover, for all intoxicating view
from any angle nice, all of them lovely.
These are the seven, I could think of today
not impressively various, uses by the truckload
expand and contract, creating a dialect
distinctly American, connecting cultures
without pretext of coin, social status or accent
they carry emotion, comic acoustic shortness
of sound percussing, they are a kaleidoscope
for the masses, linking us to each other as god.
andrewhalteromniblog 