prevaricated mildly graphic blurb

I (for half life of mine,
aa Norwegian bachelor farmer)
crafts gonadal venal zest
while kin sitter ably west
of lake woebegone,
and hope this summary
of me decked in pubic vest
when prick mingles amidst puss
docked comfortably numbly doth rest
ye with insight and also passes

the electric kool aid battery erotic test
also coincides with fig newton's laws
that apply to bodies at rest
like this husband (dry humor
leavens poetry topnotch),
who will shortly embark
on inxs rem wet dream penile quest
which comprised – no fallacy -
a wooden pallet,
one mattress & blankets as nest
lest
fills mine sexual appetite
for induction as a frequent furry guest
whereby courtly table
laden with hormonally
full tonic fur real n earnest
feast fit for a leery king,
who proudly thumps his treasure chest
adorned with my thrift store attire best
as all those invited
to imbibe esprit de corps will attest

fearful that white coated
needled workers at some scientific lab
will experiment on my
(three score plus fourteen year) fleshy skiff
in truth parry and thrust
with mirthful and jesting rapier like jab
with only fleet of iambic feet
elusive fantasizes to grab
which body actually trim
and devoid of excess flab
yet upon waking realizes
sober reality considerably more drab
am imperfect male member
pureed into pulp like some lifeless crab
but just in the nick of time
spongebob rescues me like captain ahab

this doofus haint gonna worry
cuz this aint my slightly kinky real story
nor suitable media fodder nor tabloid quarry
anonymously consigned
to penile solitary by the hung jury
pertaining to this fellow quite hoary
but one to waste
your time with faux glory

well...
now if caught with pants
around knees and forced at to tell
the actual hand to mouth existence
less appealing to sell
thus seek mademoiselle to quell
this topsy turvy mister can inform life pell
mell
as close as an atheist can live in hell
that he types this blurb
from his former lower merion dell
(not reef fur ring
to the computer manufacturer but this cell)
and spends his days of his life
(as the world turns)
where dark shadows
lurk at this edge of night
off in Bach, the outer limits
of the twilight zone
near distant hour alarm
summoning like a suburban church bell
this self anointed force
without raising cain quite able.

from::this dickensian eicosanoid fascinating
fictitiously christened scott matthews
hales from zip code, where mansions
emblematic of rich gentiles and Jews
loom with ornate flues
stenciled with memes
of handy dandy blues clues.