Sunday, 28 July 2013

Beyoncé's Baby

Before Beyoncé had a baby,
Bailey bluffed Marcie,
Bud had nowhere to jack-up,
(Beat up, kicked out,
And strung-out nice,
He prayed to Bacchus,
Rocks and Ice)

Beyoncé had a baby,
Bailey found a
Hostel, Hostel,
Terrifying Hallstelz.

Marcie was cling-filming
Cider to reduce odour,
Whilst beneath his billet,
Bud noticed a white, shaking, blurry-ill
Walt Whitman, tremble in a mushroom trance,
Before Bailey undertook to say,
“You’re crushed and simple,
Emotional, desperate,
With the snakes in your stomach,” (Mexican accent)
Marcie – “…and you won’t take a stance,
I hate you Wepeel…” (Norwegian accent)
Bailey – “…but pity you, too,
For the Fate you seal…” (Dr Seuss)

And Bud thought,
“The Halls, cold Halls,
The terrible Hallstelz.”

Yes, Beyoncé bore a baby from her warm, wet, gelatinous snatch,
Or perhaps from a sharp incision it hatched.

And when she did,
Bud thought
Finally the chance,
To rise from this mess,
This semen-stained mattress,
With its hair and skin,
Diarrhoea, stomach cramps,
And craving sweat in.”

And Bud worked good and hard that night,
For a child was born and a star shone bright.

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