How I long for Mr. Oxford's classes
He comes armed with his books and beard
For some, its time for great celebration
For others a platform for intellectual masturbation
For me, it means loss of sleep
Of skipping breakfast and forgetting to pee.
In the hurry, I even forget to brush
And arrive with a majestic bad breath.
For some, its time to air their views
Even if it’s as dull as a pig rear view.
Some exploit this situation
by giving vent to their sexual frustration.
It’s for people who are desperate to get laid
And for people with acute mental constipation
But Mr. Oxford is the best solution
To loosen up all the clogged up accumulation
Then starts off a verbal diarrhoea
Adding to that, a lot of cerebral masturbation
I then witness a nauseatingly repulsive orgy
Ending in an orgasm so excruciatingly ghastly.
While the awful grammar exercise sheets are passed around
I see these poor souls preparing for the next round
The worst is the lilliput with an itchy butt
Who keeps talking like a whining mutt
always at the edge of his seat, ready to open his maw.
And when he opens his mouth, I stifle a yawn
His voice like a lurid, stinking poison
Enter my very schizophrenic existence.
And I strive to keep my drooping eyes open.
Then there’s another suppressed pig
Who starts shrieking like a cat in heat
There in a corner, the huge giantess
giggles as if someone just tickled her tits
Even the skinny go-green militant
Seem to experience a similar sensation
Combined by the prim Victorian silence
Of the stony, ice female in white
The gun throated cackle of the gloomy spinster
goes trough and through my head
like soldiers marching across a tin bridge.
I guess the lilliput and the pig
tops the list of all the insufferable prigs
while one, by just talking, gets a perveted gratification
the other , by airing his opinion
gets a massive ejaculation.
In the midst of all this I sit,
feeling more and more like a piece of shit
While Oxford's baleful eyes silently sneer
I sigh and drift into a depressing daze.
The rest of the day I spent in a bleary eyed stun
Dreading the next week, when he’d be back again.
Armed with his books and that dreadful beard
For another round of community masturbation.
- the shoddy sub editor/copywrited material