"... even David Beckham with his
show-off, lolly-popper-chopper
wouldn’t find a welcome in my now-single bed."
Molly Parkin read this poem at the Poetry Olympics Enlightenment festival last Friday, September 11, at Chelsea Town Hall, marking the 50th anniversary of Michael Horovitz's New Departures - the "groundbreaking poetry publisher-cum-multimedic bardmobile". Click the link for other planned events.
Viagra by Molly Parkin
I went to my doctor for Viagra.
Two years and a bit before my 80th birthday.
She suggested I may not care for the side-effects,
a chronic headache at the base of the skull
for a full week,
and (here’s where she put me off)
uncontrollable, incontinent, diarrheoa>>>
meaning to say that I could expect
a shit in the middle of the shag.
“I graciously decline, doctor”, I said
“Wise decision, dear,” she replied with a smile.
“You’ve already pleasured the male population
of entire continents, and how!
What about giving others a crack of the whip now.”
I’d gone on the suggestion of a young taxi driver
who was servicing an elderly lady, former fare
from Belgravia to Brixton, where
he’d dropped her off at her toyboy,
a teenage drummer from Illinois.
She was on Viagra, so the taxi driver
got in on the act.
Now the two of them have made the pact,
the driver and the Belgravia dame
torrid screws around the clock.
But a firm friendship, all the same
he’s tried his own Viagra share
“a stiffie up for a fortnight,
a fucking nightmare,
trying to fit it under the steering wheel,
firm as rock, hard as steel."
But, as to me, I’ve lost the sexual urge.
Since my Las Vegas screw, the final splurge.
My doctor says it’s diminishing hormones.
And I did sense sediments showering my shoes
where these hormones must have exited my extremities,
leaving no stain of former hedonistic excess,
rendering me impervious to the opposite sex.
Such that even David Beckham with his
show-off, lolly-popper-chopper
wouldn’t find a welcome in my now-single bed.
My chosen companion being cocoa instead.
September.2009
8 comments:
Fake pic!
Good grief ! Is there no end to the lasciviousness of Molly Parkin's writings ?
I agree with Anon-sadly it's a fake pic although very sexy. Take it from me (and I haven't from him) but having heard from one should know, David is missing a certain piece of his anatomy..he's had the snip. Surely 100s of footballers could testify to that as well from experience in the changing rooms.
Wonderful bawdy poem, Molly should do an anthology of this sort of stuff.
I hope Becks doesn't sue
Hello La Cosa Nova-any chance you could pass on the name of this wonder drug ?
You go to your GP and say you can't get it up - you have to have a dick to start with by the way. You tell the GP that you want to be referred to your local hospital for erectile dysfunction. Once there you're offered a suite of things to get it up - including this medicine you inject into your cock. You soon get used to a little prick, the needle that is, which you learn to administe yourself. And you can enjoy hours of sex or wanking. Viagra can put up ypour blood pressure and the cock band stops ejaculate. I speak plainly.
<< it stays hard for hours >>
Oh tabernak, how embarrassing ! And what to do if I want it down and quiet for some reason ? Dive into a bath tub of ice ? Help !
Dear Molly, I love this latest addition to your repertoire and, greedily, I long for you to write more. I should so like to come to your next recital and so you must let me know where it will be.
Until Friday then...
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