Down Here On The Ground

Down Here On The Ground
Down Here On The Ground

Down here on the ground,
Negro male striding
through a part of Manchester
‘Gay Village,’

Where rent boys prey.
Not pretty boys.
At night the ghouls
Come into play.

He turned onto Canal Street,
Cruising past the bars.
Listen to you feline foes
Talking La-Di-Da.

Butch boys dressed up tight,
Some folk looking thin.
Searching for a horny scout
To ram his domed head cock up in.

Can you smell that rancid scent?
But wait!
Rousing up the rowdy street
Is Amyl Nitrate.

Carried by an atmosphere
– delightful breeziness –
Battymen and Lesbians,
Gay capital of Northwest.

A thing that translates exit,
Is not a frigging entry,
Notwithstanding heteros,
Who claim to no gay tendencies.

Squealing at the Town Hall,
We deserve our rights.
We got deep resources,
Our time for civil rights.

In the valleys, up the craggy
To the highest court.
We demanding, fighting hard,
We ain’t stopping short.

Even in the Church of God,
We want blessings too.
Recruit a fruitcake pastor,
He tells us transgress not we do.

For Jesus died for all of us,
He wipes away our sins.
Like I do love and wipe away –
Then toss the shit stained rag in the bin.

Caramel flavoured,
Bust my top!
Kiss my ring –
We’ll never stop,

For God looks down upon us all –
We are his children too.
And you’re a sexy negro.
I like my angry boo!

I-God is not feline,
I shall never be boo.
I love strictly pussy –
Separating me from you.

Rights I desire
Are just to be black man.
Rights you desire
Deviate the plan man –

Woman and Man –
Created creating.
Blessings from the Most High God:
The gift is in producing.

Not grizzly sword fighting –
Jeremy versus Rick.
Up and out the sewer man –
With chocolate on your prick.

Never read Leviticus,
Sodomy is a damn.
Now you wish to rewrite law
That man can marry man.

As for buffy lovers:
They don’t know the score.
A royal rod they have not graced
From 10 in the morn till gone past 4.

Instead she craves Sir Dildo.
Strapping him to her bottom.
Then rams it up her girlfriend,
As if her name was Henry Cotton.

He storms out from the Village.  *They laugh*
Negro wears a cutting frown.
This is what is going on,
Down here on the ground.

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