THE LORETTA ANTHOLOGY - A Multi-Authored Collection

[Coco DeSockmonkey]

Loretta

The Lost Loretta Poem....

Now being written by the light of a camp fire...

Down by old man river...

I want to sail away on with her...

By General Stink

*****

Touring Loretta
a poem by NancyGene

“Put your pedal to my mettle,”
spoke Lady Bunny.
“I peel your banana seat
your red reflectors
kick your chain then stand
shifting bodies into high gear
burning rubber, tire,
then rest in your basket
steering through my nozzle
pounding air and Fix-a-Flat.”

He did not want to offend her--
he can no longer handle bars.

*****

SHE HO'D
(An Ode)

By Stinky George Sulzbach


I know'd she ho'd
As she ass-shook her way
Down Riverwalk
Where the hobos gawk
Beat off
A tin can symphony
To match her rhythmic sway.

I know'd she ho'd
With purple-painted hair
Displayed her wares
To simple Simon eyes,
Her kisses
Swapped for crack
Smack, pot or booze
And a dry tent
In which to sleep it off.

I know'd she ho'd
With every fleabit tramp,
On bended knees
She sucked disease
And blew
Food Stamps on
Wine and Scooter Pies.

I know'd she ho'd
But what's a man to do
When brown eyes sparkle
By the open fire
That warms the transient camp
And bakes the scent
Of brown-bagged urine
On the Southern night.

I know'd she ho'd
And gaily dosey-doed
From cardboard box
To lean-to, tent
And busker's backyard shed,
Gave head
In high beam'd glare
Of truck stop lots.

But in the early
Morning glow
As streetlights fade
With after hour scents
Of beer and vomit
On the southbound breeze,
I draw Loretta near
Kiss needled scars
And puss-bound scabs
That decorate her loins
And weep for joy
That in this
Rathole world
Somebody cares
For me
A little while...

...Until the wine
Is gone.

*****

Loretta
by the Zidiot, as told to NancyGene

Loretta give betta hetta
Than Gretta
I betta
If’n I metta
And I letta

*****

Loretta Lounges with Bums
a poem by NancyGene

Loretta lounges with bums
as the Chattahoochee comes
through this city of crumbs
a camp of sad outcomes.

Loretta has a ho beau
she won’t be letting him know
what brought her down this low
to work a pay-to-touch show.

Loretta commingles with Zid
both have to live off the grid
not much farther to skid
her perfume’s a can of Rid.

Loretta pawned her last pride
as the bum’s ad hoc bride
their threshold a branch outside
taking skank tent life in stride.

*****

(Untitled)
by Frosty, NancyGene and MMP

I sniff by night
the seat of her Bike
after a peddle so fast;
At moonlight I wander
to a garage over yonder
hoping that aroma will last.

I can't forget her
that sweet treat Loretta,
Doc will sure nuff be mad.........
................

Despite no light
She finds my campsite
Where her Goodwill smock she chucks
I feel for her penis
With ill-disguised keenness
Then remember I’m not with Fat Fuck.

What's this that I'm feeling?
My senses are reeling!
What grow long and hard in my clutch?
My dreams have come true
For she's got a dick, too...
And for years I'd just thought she was butch.

*****

[NancyGene]

Those are wonderful poems. It's too bad FF ruined the Sunday Sampler, or "Loretta" could have been a stimulating topic.

[NancyGene]

On Friday, November 8, 2019 at 3:50:06 PM UTC, Coco DeSockmonkey wrote:

One that was inadvertently left out of the anthology:

Low Retta
by Frosty

Low Retta
Fo Getter
I got me
a Dockery

[NancyGene]

****

And this latest classic Loretta poem:

When Loretta Doffed Her Sweater
a poem by NancyGene

When Loretta doffed her sweater
it was spelled out in block letters
for the pissbums and their betters
to roar out, “Let’s go get her.”

Zid told the gang to go drown.
He was hauling ‘Retta downtown
to earn some bread and hash browns
from her fried eggs stretching way down.

Now Loretta knew her wardrobe
and of Zid’s unfriendly microbes
a Sophie’s Choice of no hope
as Columbus was a dope slope.

Loretta snatched up slapdash gobbledygook
and smacked Zid with a left hook,
caused Zid to give a strange look
for it was his free review book.

“Stand down, Loretta,” Zid cried,
“don’t harm that book of Doc’s pride.
He doesn’t know that when his muse died
that it screwed him in the backside.”

‘Retta put back on her sweater but
she calmed down only somewhat.
She told Zid that it was clearcut
that he was the biggest camp slut.

She emphasized his slow wit
and constant questions “whatsit?”
With his scent of unwashed armpit,
he would now and never get it.

[Loretta Hobo Cumdump]

Excellent homage to moi!

[NancyGene]

Hi, Loretta. Lovely picture of you, looking young and refreshed with the morning dew on your cheeks.

Would you be willing to answer a few questions for your fans? Michael Pendragon has been running an interview series, and we are sure he would love to interview a vibrant local personality like you.

[Loretta Hobo Cumdump]

Why thank you. I'd be thrilled to answer any questions my fans may have.
By the way, are you bi?

[NancyGene]

We are sure you have many fans and customers. No, sorry, we are two but not of that sort.

Could you tell us if your bicycle used to belong to a person named Stephan E. Pickering?

[Loretta Hobo Cumdump]

It smelled of knishes and gefilte fish if that's any help. There was also a bottle of Manischewitz tucked into the water bottle holder. It tasted like ass.

[General Zod]

It's probably the bottle you fucked me in the ass with. That was a splendid night in my tent.

[NancyGene]

***

New Loretta poem of note:

Ho'retta
a poem by NancyGene and Michael Pendragon

Ho’retta, Columbus transvestite,
peddled through hobo camps most nights.
S/he set her bar high
when s/he wanted a guy
or low when she strapped on her dirt bike.

[General Zod]

Loretta has a dildo mounted to her bike seat, which explains her smile as she rolls through the bum camp.

[Michael Pendragon]

Loretta pedals through the meadows to the hobo camps.
She hopes for coke, but often settles for whatever AMPHs
The local tramps who haunt the camps are so inclined to pay.
On fullmoon nights, she drops her pants to dance till break of day;
And all the tramps who aren't yet tight politely turn away.
Not that Loretta looked much better in days when she was young,
Nor that she shakes her globs of fat, nor smells of week old dung --
But when she lets it all hang out, she proves to be well-hung.

[NancyGene]

***

Sheets of Loretta*
a poem and song by NancyGene

As I rolled off of the sheets of Loretta,
as I fell out of Loretta one day,
I saw a fat pissbum, all messed in plaid tent shirt,
chest-baring tent shirt was caked with red clay.

Whoa, beat the bum slowly and don’t catch E. coli,
ping the Dunce blarg as his hairy swan song.
Drag him to the Legents, leave him with Zod to lie.
Time he was working, and he’s mooched way too long.

Loretta was outraged when she said, “Pay, Fat Boy,
you sullied my sheets and thought you could deny.
Dumb small town can chide me and think I’m so whorey
when caught with fake breasts and exposed as a guy.”

Bum walked like an otter, stole fifty off his daughter
to cover a steak feast and lead pipe to head.
His books were returned, a lesson was unlearned--
a pawn to his editor, a pissbum unread.



*With apologies to "Streets Of Laredo" (Marty Robbins version). Attributed to Francis Henry Maynard, 1876 - Based on the Irish ballads, "A Handful Of Laurel" and
"The Bard Of Armagh." Traditional.

[Brother Dave Dockery]

On Friday, November 8, 2019 at 10:50:06 AM UTC-5, Coco DeSockmonkey wrote:

Loretta is a skank bag. I wouldn't fuck her with Will's dick even if I could find it.

[Will Dockery]

On Friday, November 8, 2019 at 10:50:06 AM UTC-5, Coco DeSockmonkey wrote:

Loretta is a real piece of work, I'll give you that.

[NancyGene]

The Loretta Anthology needs to be expanded in 2020. Is her eyesight 20/20, her IQ 20, or her price $20 (deluxe group special)?

[Brother Dave Dockery]

I wouldn't fuck that skank with a dildo on a 10 foot pole. Nasty.

[Zod-The...@none.i2p]

Hey that's my skank you're talking about!

[NancyGene]

We have been lax in updating this anthology:

Loretta Fights the Big One
a poem by NancyGene

Loretta of the waters spun on her cycles,
fighting, biting, delighting those who watched
her dance in a cape of vapor from the river
which delivered her mother and sisters and
then herself, rising from the pollution an
ablution of sin from a bin of diner waste.

She has been abused, turned loose to
her base instincts yet thinks of days coming,
humming when she was and ever will be
a seer of men then a receptacle for truth
through books of poetry, hoe-etry of
lives lived within the circle of their birth,
worth nothing on earth more than the
dirt floor, a whore of the land, standing
her ground against those who say, hey,
how much?

Loretta fights on, Johns, who don’t know
she goes to Tae Kwon Do to heal and
seal from harm her sacred gullet, a lull it
would seem to mean that she is
ambivalent, sibilant about the big one
and done or two and through for the day.

[NancyGene]

And another one:
**********

Loretta Rainhobow
a poem by Stinky as told to NancyGene

Loretta turned violet
and handed me percocet

Loretta was green
as she lay in the latrine

Loretta was white
as the carp took a bite

Loretta was pink,
held her nose ‘cause I stink

Loretta was yellow
when malaria said hello

Loretta was purple
so I pushed when she pulled

Loretta was turquoise,
sucked the chrome without noise

Loretta was cyan
as she chewed on the beer can

Loretta turned red
when I bashed in her head

Loretta turned blue
when I strangled her too

Loretta was black
when I sewed up the sack

Loretta was tan
so I sank her and ran

[Loretta Hobo Cumdump]

I've used that dildo on you, George Sulzbach. Stop begging for it.

[Michael Pendragon]

On Friday, November 8, 2019 at 10:50:06 AM UTC-5, Coco DeSockmonkey wrote:

Lest we forget.

Michael Pendragon
"Less we fergit..."
-- George "Stink" Sulzbach, pissbum extraordinaire
https://imgur.com/gallery/bMGm5SM
https://imgur.com/a/Foxnrzx
https://imgur.com/a/7c0WITn

[Michael Pendragon]

And less we fergit:

[Coco DeSockmonkey]

Methinks LoHo was really Dirty Mike in drag.


Michael Pendragon
"No doubt about it, Edmund Spenser would fit in very well in the worlds of Terry Gilliam and Monty Python."
-- Will Dockery, demonstrating why he never made it through the 8th grade.
https://imgur.com/gallery/dpR2ESh
https://imgur.com/gallery/rtvGMMt

[Michael Pendragon]

Or maybe Mike just puts out for fewer smokes.


Michael Pendragon
"writing is just putting one word in front of another."
-- Will Dockery, on the art of literary composition.
https://imgur.com/gallery/dpR2ESh
https://imgur.com/gallery/rtvGMMt

[NancyGene]

George Sulzbach sniffed Dirty Mike's "bicycle seat" and proclaimed that D.M. was, if not Loretta, close enough.

[Michael Pendragon]

[Michael Pendragon]

Pretty much everyone smells alike in a Bharma Dum camp.

-- Michael Pendragon

I AM THE SHITSTAIN

The shit runs
down my legs
Deep and black
last night's dumpster fare
rancid tuna
...I am the reason
you pinch your nostrils
I am
the shitstain.

-- George J. "Shitstain" Sulzbach III

[NancyGene]

Even the dead ones.

[Michael Pendragon]

There are no "dead ones" in Bum Camp.

They're referred to by the politically correct term as "dinner."

[NancyGene]

Are they farm-fresh slaughtered? "Surf and Dirt?"

[Michael Pendragon]

[Michael Pendragon]

[Michael Pendragon]

Will Donkey: https://imgur.com/gallery/dpR2ESh
Stinky George: https://imgur.com/a/7c0WITn

Nuff said.

[NancyGene]

That's disgusting. No wonder Loretta preferred her bike seat as a lover.

[Michael Pendragon]

According to Stinky George, Loretta thought the shoe polish was an improvement.

https://imgur.com/a/7c0WITn

[Michael Pendragon]

[NancyGene]

What did Dockery think of Sulzbach using shoe polish as a lubricant?

[Coco DeSockmonkey]

It was the fulfillment of one of the Donkey's longstanding dreams: getting pounded by "black dick."

[NancyGene]

We doubt very much that it was the first time. Remember Dockery's "Negrohood?" It's not like Dockery needed his shoes shined.

[Michael Pendragon]

I stand corrected.

Make that It was the fulfillment of one of the Donkey's longstanding dreams: getting pounded by "blackface dick."

[Michael Pendragon]

[Michael Pendragon]

[NancyGene]

Does Will Dockery long for a pounding by beards of all the colors of the rainbow?

[Michael Pendragon]

As a long-time Scooby Doo fan, he's hoping for a great dane.

[NancyGene]

We know where he hides the Scooby snacks. So does George Sulzbach.

[Michael Pendragon]

Clay and Joey have eaten their share of Scooby snacks as well.

[NancyGene]

Those might have been Scooby snakes. George Sulzbach would swallow anything.

[Michael Pendragon]

George Sulzbach is one thirsty little Dirt Devil.

[Michael Pendragon]

[NancyGene]

Maybe George Sulzbach could spend his pseudo-Hell days as a vacuum cleaner, endlessly blowing and inhaling?

[Michael Pendragon]

That would be his idea of Heaven.

[NancyGene]

He sucks, he blows and he licks!

Is there a complete compilation now of the Loretta Anthology? It should be posted as a standalone poem. We see some additions to the main poem in the postings in this thread, but it should be preserved as the masterpiece that it is.

[Michael Pendragon]

Should Stinky's LoHo poems be included? They're actually pretty funny... in that unintentional sort of way.

[NancyGene]

Yes, of course--if you can get permission. We don't violate copyright, unlike someone who lives in Canada, which doesn't have any laws at all.

[Michael Pendragon]

PING! Stinky George!

Would you kindly grant us permission to publish your LoHo poems in our forthcoming anthology?

[NancyGene]

He may not see it in this thread. Better to make a standalone thread asking him for the right to publish. Otherwise, we can just write more poems about her and the ill-fated dance of death fumes.

[Michael Pendragon]

According to George Dance's rules, failure to say "no" automatically defaults to "yes."

[NancyGene]

Or ignoring him means people are guilty of whatever paranoid accusation he has dreamed up. However, when (often), he is wrong, he accuses people of being wrong or changes the subject.

[Michael Pendragon]

That's the beauty of Dunce Logic -- you can't use logic to disprove it because it has no basis in reality.

[NancyGene]

He ignores statements that are made in the same thread that put the lie to what he says. He quotes just enough, with enough of a change, to try to support his arguments (that he is not wrong). He supports pissbums, which is hard to believe of anyone.

[Michael Pendragon]

The pissbums will infallibly compliment his poetry and support his arguments. As you've noted, when others have offered constructive criticism to him, he goes ballistic on them.

George is always quoting Goebbels, to the effect that if you repeat a lie enough times, others will start to believe it. One could similarly argue that if a couple of pissbums repeat the lie that you're a talented poet, others will start to believe it as well.

[NancyGene]

We don't quote Goebbels. Why is George Dance so hung up on that Nazi? That should be a case study.

George Dance can work for years on a poem and not come up with anything that is at all poetic. Pedestrian at the most.

[Michael Pendragon]

Pedestrian... yes. But the rhyme and meter is... usually... quite good ("My Father's House" being one of the exceptions).

[NancyGene]

You could also create a poem with a metronome but there would be no deeper meaning, no transformation taking place, no universal thoughts. George Dance's poems are mathematical constructs.

[Michael Pendragon]

Yes. They're mathematical constructs that fail to advance above the level of basic arithmetic.

[Michael Pendragon]

[NancyGene]

aabbccddee

[Michael Pendragon]

I knew a boy named Georgie Dance
Whose father made him drop his pants,
Each night as he lay down in bed
His father whipped his hiney red,
And when George cried "My hiney's sore"
His father only whipped him more.
He whipped him with a leather belt
Till Georgie's butt began to welt.
The reason for this cruel attack?
To keep him from sleepin' on his back.

[NancyGene]

The Canuck boy was Georgie Dance
His life was full of no’s and can’ts.
He wished to play with other boys
But Father said no boys, no noise.
George Dance just sat and looked outside
The box where he was kept inside
And wished that he could find a job
That freed him from the whips and sobs
That burned his ass and pjs smeared.
He’ll run for office, and be cheered!

[Michael Pendragon]

He ran for office and was cheered
But voters thought his hair looked weird
That, coupled with his beady eyes,
Seemed like a Chuck E. Cheese disguise,
And no one's voting for a rat
Who's stolen Batty's woolen hat.
So Georgie lost each time he ran
And earned the nickname "Loser Man."
He cried until his eyes were red
Pulled down his pants and went to bed.

[Michael Pendragon]

[NancyGene]

George ran and ran and ran more times
Than anyone who couldn’t rhyme.
He ran as man and ran as boy
And offered every kid a toy
If they would get their dad to vote
For George, who seemed to miss the boat
In getting folks to like him best
And then there were the pants he messed.
The polls all told him, “You’re not liked,
Even by Fake Jews who biked.”

[Michael Pendragon]

George ran like shitstains down Stink's pants
George ran and ran and tried to dance
Around each question that was put
To him -- but he just stuck his foot
Inside his mouth until he'd gag
Then run home crying to the bag
Who lived with him within his box
But felt their marriage was a pox
Because her hubby never eats
A late night snack beneath the sheets.

[NancyGene]

George never even had a snack
Of pussy or a Cracker Jack.
George only like to eat cardboard
And raided backs of stores to hoard
All boxes, crates and Styrofoam
And called it his own honeycomb.
He’d munch and chew and sniff the box
And then he’d be Canuck flummoxed
Of why the box declined to mate
With him, a servant of the state.

[Michael Pendragon]

But as the years passed, George did find
Cardboard doth not a healthy mind
Create or nourish, as you see
His mind was smaller than a pea,
Which left George sorely out of luck --
Who wants an addle-brained Canuck
To box their books? They hired him not
So Georgie turned to smoking pot
Day in, day out, whate'er the cost...
He ran for office thirteen times and lost.

[NancyGene]