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From: malinov@mindless.com (Malinov)
Subject: ASS Lament of a Failing Zero
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Lament of a Failing Zero
by Lord Malinov
<malinov@mindless.com>

"The best revenge is writing well."
      - Faust

Erotically writing a tale to share
Amusing, arousing, with genitals bare
Teasing fast flashes of creamy white thighs
Civil men growling as they feel their cocks rise

I typed verbage with flourish, onehanded albeit
Six hours I labored to see the thing writ
I came seven times as I narrated the facts
Roundaboutly converging to a sloppy climax

I dashed my fresh prose off toward erotic venues
To feed my friends fodder for their night alone blues
Jots of lettered excitments became my well-earned prizes
"I'm still wetly throbbing having read those sweet lies"

But as I revelled in my tale's untarnished glory
While the effusive few offered thanks for my story
Writing's treacherous adepts of the critical art
Sharpened fierce talons to claw out my heart

For the sake of the readers, we submit to this trial
Bear nitpicking outbursts of sedation and bile
Feel the harsh sting of a rogue's knavish wit
Endure coarse banalities typed by some ruffian's mitt.

The Reviews deemed celestial took the first shot
Degrading my prose as a mountain of rot
Deriding some old text to prove she knows more
About juvenile tastes than the expositive core

The voice of the Annex fell low as she leveled her bead
Called my imagery flat, cast of words we can't read
"Much too long where the orgy should clearly be brief"
Another ship rent assunder on the shoals of her reef

The polyandrous one joined the fray with light fire
Condemned arcane words to a grand funeral pyre
Damned grammar quite dead with fragments mispelled
Derision ironic crushing wordplay un-yelled

Now Rosemary jumped at the chance to insist
No credit be granted for the chances I'd missed
To beguile mystery, feed her bloody good fun
"Stand yourself ready!" while she aims her keen gun

Though deflated by critics, I sit back again
To spend my frustrations with my virtual pen
I'll revenge my harsh critics, let them slowly burn
On the spit of their too-brutal tongues; Then they'll learn,

Gnashing their fangs, of the morsel I'm crafting
A bawdy old lovely with foreplay and afting
A tale, quite scrumptious, glowing bright on my screen
A piece d'resistance carved in each sordid scene

~A smiling blonde motions me, quick, get inside
~Between the full racks of petite clothes I glide
~In a bare dressing room, check the mirror to reflect
~While her unzipped skirt slips down-thigh direct
~
~White pantyhose shroud her best shadowy sights
~As her sapphire sweater lifts to expose rich delights
~Succulent breasts, lush ripe melons, thick dark nipples
~Barely encased in a black satin bra, divulging in ripples
~
~She sits while she looks in the mirror, her eyes gleam
~Thumbs in her waist, she pulls the nylon downstream
~Beneath the gold bush spreads soft lips of wet pink
~I lick my lips hungered, while she teases her mink
~
~"Is this too short?" asks some girl's voice from above
~"I love to go shopping," my friend purrs, "and I love
~The way you've been watching me, out there and in here
~Now I want you inside me; my mouth, cunt and rear."

And though my critics search to black-hearted content
Write demanding that these folios be forsoonwith sent
I'll steadfastly deny scoundrels all the joys of this draft 
Leave the masochs to spread wide for the critical shaft

Rest assured that my ditty, quite enduring in paces
Will soon become famous in all the right places
And in the dying last echoes of this praise unrestrained
We'll hear wails in the desert, critics unentertained

Lament of a Failing Zero
by Lord Malinov
<malinov@mindless.com>


Currently reading _Underworld_ by Don DeLillo
Power belongs to those who dare. . . Sapere Aude

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