I bought my title from the Queen’s titty dancer

I bought my title from the Queen’s titty dancer

I have fragmented gold fingers

I have the mouth of a king

I know the coin of the realm is Jesus dust and angry red sin

I swim in gilled lily ponds

Invertebrate gurus consulting my every move

Liquid air pouches cushioning my iconically pierced heart

Half full catheter keeping my precious ink secrets

No need to call the nanny for biscuits and discipline

She can go pussify the next young son in iron clad jodhpurs

Help him up to the jumping horse toddle

I am dandy as candy

Stretched tight as new taffy

Screw the salt water

I have a lovely brine hat

Charlie Tuna was a beatnik martyr

Who wound up in an afghan bead strand luncheon salad

Backed by orange mushrooms on white wall paper

He took it like a man

You take it like a man

Me? I take it like royalty

Pure Waldorf Astoria with room service

Slaves pushing silver carts stacked with marshmallow pancakes

And drizzled with the sweat of troubled brows

3 thoughts on “I bought my title from the Queen’s titty dancer

  1. I’m English, and our royal family is so extended that it almost reaches my nose.

    I love this poem.

    Can you supply a punchline for my joke, please?

    I went to the doctor. I said “Doctor, Sirena Ross’s latest poem makes total sense to me. Does that mean that I’m crazy?”

    The Doctor replied “***************************”

    Liked by 1 person

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