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| Author | Message | | | Posted on Mon Mar 20, 2006 11:55:10 | |
| | Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo,
Aureli pathice et cinaede Furi,
qui me ex versiculis meis putastis,
quod sunt molliculi, parum pudicum.
nam castum esse decet pium poetam ipsum,
versiculos nihil necesse est;
qui tum denique habent salem ac leporem,
si sunt molliculi ac parum pudici,
et quod pruriat incitare possunt non dico pueris,
sed his pilosis qui duros nequeunt movere lumbos.
vos, quod milia multa basiorum legistis,
male me marem putatis?
pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo
Well fuck you Furius, you nasty queen.
My work is - and so I must be - obscene?
You and 'friend' Aurelius have dared deduce
My habits lewd, my morals less than spruce,
By reading into what I write some vice
That flatters you - to make a less than nice
Distinction 'twixt the poet and his verse -
Proclaim me pervert through the town, and worse.
What fools you are - and I don't write for fools,
Real, hairy men, whose balls and heavy tools
Are stirred to action by lascivious words,
Are my aim. So, go blunt the ends of turds!
But spare me this critique that so misses
It's mark - that cannot see 'love' and 'kisses'
Writ without suspecting that Catullus
Just like you, cannot control his phallus.
Or, just to show that I'm not like you queers,
I'll tie you both up - and then fuck your rears! | |  | --
mym
www.druidic.org |
| | | Posted at Tue Nov 24, 2009 22:44:24 | Quote |
| | | Quote: | | | | | Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo,
Aureli pathice et cinaede Furi,
qui me ex versiculis meis putastis,
quod sunt molliculi, parum pudicum.
nam castum esse decet pium poetam ipsum,
versiculos nihil necesse est;
qui tum denique habent salem ac leporem,
si sunt molliculi ac parum pudici,
et quod pruriat incitare possunt non dico pueris,
sed his pilosis qui duros nequeunt movere lumbos.
vos, quod milia multa basiorum legistis,
male me marem putatis?
pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo
Well $#$% you Furius, you nasty queen.
My work is - and so I must be - obscene?
You and 'friend' Aurelius have dared deduce
My habits lewd, my morals less than spruce,
By reading into what I write some vice
That flatters you - to make a less than nice
Distinction 'twixt the poet and his verse -
Proclaim me pervert through the town, and worse.
What fools you are - and I don't write for fools,
Real, hairy men, whose balls and heavy tools
Are stirred to action by lascivious words,
Are my aim. So, go blunt the ends of turds!
But spare me this critique that so misses
It's mark - that cannot see 'love' and 'kisses'
Writ without suspecting that Catullus
Just like you, cannot control his phallus.
Or, just to show that I'm not like you queers,
I'll tie you both up - and then $#$% your rears! |
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