For, sometimes, your heart seems as pure as the snow, While, at other times, dear, you’re one big Ho Ho Ho!
The Honourable Sir Edmund Quimlove, Santa In The Pink, Krampus In The Stink: An Adult Bedtime Poem
- “Her pussy. I was talking about her pussy. Because it’s pink, you see? You get it.”
- “O Thou effulgence of burning love, who pursueth the dawn as a youth pursueth a rose-lipped maiden; rend me with the fierce kisses of Thy mouth, so that in the battle of our lips I may be drenched by the snow-pure fountains of Thy bliss.”
- “Then, my spirit knew her For One beyond all song–my poor heart turned: Then, ’tis no wonder. And my passion burned Mightier yet than ever. To renew her Venom from those pure eyes? And yet I yearned. Still, I stepped onward. Credit me so far! The harlot had my soul: my will, the star!”
- “Ya know what? I’m human. I piss, I shit, I fart and belch and vomit when I get sick. I fuck, and I bleed from my crotch once a month like most bio-females my age. Furthermore, I have a bad temper, strong opinions and a bad habit of putting my foot in my mouth at inopportune times. And you know what? I’m not going to pretend those things aren’t as much a part of me along with the intelligence, perseverance, love of talking shop, and pure sexiness, just so I can create a wholly positive image.”
- “It is a sweet thing to be loved, Although my sighs in absence wake, Although my saddening heart is moved, I smile and bear for love’s dear sake. My songs their wonted music make, Joyous and careless, songs of youth, Because the sacred lips of both Are met to kiss the last good-bye, Because sweet glances weep for ruth That we must part, and love must die.”