When she said she didn't care When she left me at the fair (for no reason) Cress made me sad Afterwards I was angry a tad So I knocked upon her e-door And called her massive faceless whore :D

That's really clever That's really smart Poor dear Pliny Has no cress heart And if I could I'd repeat my actions Of leaving Pliny At the fair of attractions.

:D Cress says she has a heart Cress says she has a brain But I have seen no real evidence Only that she is cold and dense So I was glad she left me at the fair As it meant I was without care And could ride a souffle ride From which Cress wanted to hide :D

:roll: Candyfloss Got in my hair That's I left him At the fair Pliny cried And Cress then sighed As Pliny got on the souffle ride I fancied steak Medium-rare So i left Pliny At the fair. :roll:

After the fair I went home And sent in the post a comb To Cress's very door So the floss wouldn't spoil her job as a whore But she never even said thanks I thought that was a bit pants

:D :D A cheapo comb he sent to me One that cost about 4p I'm not a whore I've said before But Pliny chooses to ignore. So.. Despite his weeps, and sobs and wails And ouch - that sod can swear- I only had one thing in mind... ...to leave him at the fair.

She was lucky for the 4p comb Even though I've got more at home Its the thought that counts Not monetary amounts This proves my point even more Cress is just a massive whore

"A whore!" he cries But noone listens My cress is growing As the sunshine glistens. I took that comb That shitty comb, That rancid, awful 'Hello Kitty' comb And buried it In a pit Of scum and dung and dirt and grit. I just can't wait To pick up the phone And reveal the whereabouts Of his pathetic comb. And because I'm great I'll arrange a date And leave him at the fair real late!! :D

She phoned me up the other day And mumbled that she'd thrown my comb away It seemed she expected some great reaction But to be honest, the call was just a distraction I explained again, I have many a comb The loss of one did not warrant a call on the phone But because I'm nice and caring and kind I said I'd go to the fair, keeping in mind That Cress would probably get floss in her hair And, once again, leave me at the fair

whatever biatch!

'Whatever biatch!' the tosser retorted Like a twat with no schooling And whos never been courted. Admit my that poems Get you through pain The magic within them Comes from my brain. No need to get jealous I'll give you some lessons You can attend my Poetry Sessions. All that I ask is you sit and smile sweetly, Elbows off tables and please do write neatly. When the session is over I'll bolt out the door Ha-ha, I have left you- Yes, I've left you once more!

Poetry isn't about sitting neatly Nor about rhyming completely It is an artform of words and sounds Rhythm, juxtaposition and bounds Of meaning and metaphor But sometimes its straight For example - You're a whore Such a short statement carries much weight I need not your lessons nor your leaving And here is the reason that I am weaving That I am a better poet than you A title that is owned by only a few Good day to you madam

For once in my life I'm truly delighted At that there sonnet That you have just shite-d. But let us face facts I'm better than you At the construction Of a verse of two. So let's have a challenge And Keir can be Judge A 'Poetry Comp' And the winner gets fudge. OK you halfwit? Keir should decide on the topic and decide who's the best once and for all.

I'm thinking of taking the art back up myself Just got Stephen Fry's 'The Ode Less Travelled - Unlocking The Poet Within'