Crabbage Snatch Open - A Bunch of Regular Bunch of Emily Fucking Dickinsons (or dick-in-somes)

Snatch Poetry

don't be foor

Ah, October comes butt once a year,
and then we need no permissions,
to gag back some heady Mudhole Brew,
and lap up all our lost emissions.
Ol' Rag welcomes us all on back,
tho' the 'Patch be a might forlorn
to see us return w' Hackett and Scnack,
and all the jizzum pent up in their loins....

hellooo...tap tap tap....helloooo....Blandt?.....Bennel?......Galdisel?....tap, tap, tap.......Is this thing working, Cooky?, not that thing, you old gummer, the computer. Well, we'll know soon enough, if they send back any poetic issuing. Til then, tie up that saggin' jaw and grab ahold of that wagon tongue there.



Sarkisian don't write shit for ages
Then he chimes in with some sort of prose
We wonder what he's been doin'
Probably yankin' on his little hose!

And you might all recall Stevie Hackett
And boy we all heard how he squealed
When he went upstairs for a nap
With his favorite moist bunkmate Field.

And of course we can't forget Bambi
He's KD Lang - what an ass!
You don't want to be in the same room
When he starts to spew out his gas!

And remember the love bus back then?
It rocked with Al, Bojk, and Tommy
They stayed up all night playing
"My Turn To Hide The Salami"

Why there's Marshall, there's Floodman, and Snoid
There's Bobby, Vought, Kerig and Schnack,
There's Viani, Lodwig and Sibs and more,
They're all just a bunch of assholes.


BOOM ch ch BBOOM ch ch BBOOM
ch ch BOOM ch ch BBOOM

So,ya wanna heal me lappin ya some shit, bitch?
Don' get me stalted on dat harf-wit, Lich.
Ain't no UFO froating over Bennel, das
a smerry croud o' lasty Bambi gas

BOOM ch ch BBOOM ch ch BBOOM
ch ch BOOM ch ch BBOOM

An' don' be thinkin, ya'arr
dat badass Malsharr's tulned merrow
he ain't stuffin his jowrs
wi' Chubbybunny Malshmarrows.
No, dat aint Stay-Puft white shit
dlibbring down his chin, mon.
But, he seems to rike it,
and it sule aint tloubring him none.

BOOM ch ch BBOOM ch ch BBOOM
ch ch BOOM ch ch BBOOM

So Blandt don' be arr faggotty
an' be wastin time laggin me,
fol takin time to back off
an not palticipating in queel games
rike sittin lound aftel I jack off,
an cummin up wi' beel names

BOOM ch ch BBOOM ch ch BBOOM
ch ch BOOM ch ch BBOOM


Gangsahl IMBM2


I scares me that some children may inadvertantly read this so I took the liberty of filtering out the vulgar words and replacing them with clean and safe language.


"Rap This Hypo"

I guess I touched a nerve
And you sent a lot of heat off
I just shouldn't talk about
How you like to pleasure yourself.

We've heard you at the cabin
You created quite a schism
When you groan and groan and groan at night
And spray the room with male ejaculate.

We've kept the banter going
To us you should be thanking
But you just log on to porn
And give your thing a substantial tug

Now Paul don't be so rude
And get all in a snit
When you say you've been too busy
We know you're full of feces.



You know, Snatchers, you could try open verse poetry. Some folks have a tough time coming up with rhymes for words like "shunt", or "lick", or "luck cue", or "no trucker's shelf", or "trick bed"(actually rhymes with Benner), or "neatly" (hint - Eat Me).


There were once seven guys in a carload
Who were all going together to Arnold
The driver said, "Hey,
We don't have to be gay."
Not knowing the rest of the guys were boffing each other in the back of the van.
See, doesn't have to rhyme.


p.s. Nice effort on the picture, Brandt - ya pathetic Wankintosh. Perhaps you could just describe it to those of us stuck with post-1993 operating systems.


Hey Paul, you mean poetry doesn't have to rhyme?? Sounds great! Let me try.

There once was a guy named Evan
Who was a big asshole
His nose was so huge
It made him look like an idiot
What a dick.



Dave, that's great! Very poetical. I was "there" in a way that I couldn't be with prose. I have been "working up" one of my own. Let me know what you think....

I call it "Benner"

A waft.
Nothing, really
Fills the room.
Something died.


Nice, Paul!!! You're a regular Wad'sworth Shortfellow. You know Paul does mean short or length challenged. It comes from the latin pall as in "A pall was cast over the crowd and no one noticed because it was so tiny"

Here's a form of poetry called Haigoo.

What is that?
Indigo Girls flowing
Queenie, not Queen
Beer can hits stereo
Fucking Hackett



Having all the fun are we??
No...not so silent am I.. a mere canard has more foul air in it ....
The undisputed King of flagellation has awoke again!
(Have I mentioned I've been seeing a doctor about that?)
Catch of the Day..

A shark by any other name,
some soiled rudiments,
of rabbit food gone south,
truly a test,
of the greatest of muscular control,
a sphincter nonetheless.

Guess ..

Something short,
Something sweet,
A long, thick, knot
between the knees.

What am I?
(Hint: what Brandt chews on before his game - only a month older than fresh!)

aka Bambi


an' all thru the cabin,
not a creature was stirrin'
not even Rag's mouse.

As Blandt became ill,
all bent over in pain,
a cheer was heard cumin,
from ol' Kerig's slak mouth.

Enter the dragon -
a Mudshark disguised,
for Rag's misbehavin'
on Thibley's white thighs.

He's twistin an squirmin'
like a Marshall's long ball,
cause he's run out of lube
from the arse of Tommy blue.

All quiet and hushed -
like in some weird panic,
'til Slackmouth can muster
another full head(ache).

Boink can't contain
the feelings he has
for the strain is too much
as Semore steps in.

"Oh Prancer, oh Blitzen,...
"Oh shut you whore"
Interupts Nav Rag,
"I'll not give you an inch"
(and he hasn't one more).

"Now listen up
all you sick little fucks"
"There business to attend to"
" Now, suck it up!"

And, with that sly little whince
he gave as he gurgled
it could only mean one thing
"There's another Crabbage cuming"!.

All blistered and weathered
and looking for fun,
These blokes are a bustin out
for the best Crabbage yet...AAAyyyeee....

(In memory of my good friend Snoid who is suffering from a colon disorder)..
and so it begins...
an epic journey of sorts,
of sight and sound
and great smells.....
Let's hoist a mug o' that ale Slacket's makin'
cause there isn't much time befur we're all stinkin....



There once was a guy named Printing,
Rags on us he's known to be hinting.
He likes to drink Bud,
and yank on his pud,
And that's why he's always squinting.

There once was Cumondoor Brandt,
He liked to rave and to rant.
He favored men in arrears,
But his orders fell on deaf ears,
For the height of his mast was so scant.

Some thought that Dave was a queer,
And in them that struck some fear.
So he couldn't get dicks,
And didn't like chicks,
And thus his nickname "shake spear".

At the Snatch his vision is blurred,
And his speech so very slurred.
But nobody cares
About his cabin hairs
Because he is such a PIECE OF SHIT!


Dear Snatch Poetry Club,

Today's vagnette is an aclitteration. I call it...

"Ode To A Crab"

Emitted exquisite exoskeletal estrogen
Poon pube pulling pincers
Sea salt schmegma, slurp.



If I may....I have been working on something I have entittled

Crab Sandwich

White dripping dollop
buns of crusty Dutch crunch,
errant hairs
'tween cheek and gum.

Accchhk, accchk, accchk.
Throat spasms, and eyes bulge.
Thumb and forefinger
probe back of tongue.

Seafood taco,
brimming with crab.
Smells of tuna.
Una mas....una mas.


And what shall we wash down the crabbery sandwich with?
Why, none other than our very own Cream of Vaginette Soda -
or, for the more hardy seaman, Slippery SlackMouth Brew.
Umm,,,sounds like lunch on the links...crabbage, crabbage...CRABBAGE

Sir Wantaturd Inmymouth
Aleutian Council Member
Ragatan Penninsula


Summer, fall or spring
Winter, too, it matters not
Mudshark sucks in all.


Dizzy brain, stop sign
Shiny badge and pistol show
Wrecks a damn good time.


Ode to Odor

One must hope,
At what can be.
With anus stretched,
By friend Bambi.

Sark would load,
His bowl with ruffage.
He used to rule,
Now mere duffage.

Mudshark sits,
Grunt, grunt, grunt,
It's not huge,
What a cunt!

- by Henry Gibson


Counting syllables,
Field plays with self, wondering,
why he's such a prick.

Phone rings, on fifth green.
Where's Sark? Thoughts - of danger, death.
False alarm. Fuck you!

Hey, I'm going to go on vacation 'til the 10th. I'll miss this, though.

Like a root canal. Jerkoffs.



Mountain air, fresh, clean
Meadow glistens morning dew
Mudshark tongues assholes.

Day blue sky, dark night
A million stars like diamonds
Granite turd won't flush.

Snatch birds flitter 'round
Waves lap on porcelain shores
Paul licks brownfingers.

HEY EVERYBODY! This IS fun. First line five syllables, second line seven syllables, third line five syllables. No rhyming. Generally about nature or the seasons, with the last line having little or nothing to do with the first two. This all makes it really easy to nail our beloved Captain Mudshark.

Fuck Cap'n M-shark


(and Flodo Totar al Dodiri, of course)


Mudshark split,
What a meanie,
Let's give shit,
To that queenie.

He tried to hide,
Way out east.
On my dick,
He can feast.

Sark can't run,
>From the starter's rag.
If he won't respond,
Nail that fag!



Brundt writes in couplets
S'posed to be a kaiku fest
Snoid's cock on Sark's tongue.


Haiku? Go fuck off!
No one listens to you, dick!
Ma Sho Laik Yung Boi


That's my boy, Brundtess
Follow the rules, silly queen


Let's cut to the chase.

Evan's dick, Brandt's mouth
Stroking, pounding, hammering
Evan cums, Brandt drinks


Kerig is a runt
He has a dick that matches
Wife can't feel nuthin'


Sark's on vacation
Beautiful nature abounds
Outhouse invader.

Wildflower fragrant
Trees breathe deeply thin air
Logs out, stiffies in.

Cops summoned to park
This time stop signs still stand tall
Sark, George, and Pee Wee.


I hope you all got your invite
It was loads of fun just to write
Some will complain
And talk with disdain
But my joojer you all now can bite


Boys of summer dream
Fishing lines splash in cool ponds
Bad call at second.

Kites fly high above
Riding bikes until dusk falls
Spits seeds on ump's shoes.

Set the examples
As adults are called to do
Roger Clemens tossed.

Tomorrow sunrise
Death again on foreign ground
What a fucking dick.


Does, fawns, studly bucks,

'Mid meadow's brown cabbage husks

Duffer Dave's golf sucks.

Crickety, crickety, crickety, crickety, crickety, crickety, crickety, etc.



Evan plays so shitty,
He hits the ball like crap.
It's tough to get him on the course,
When all he does is nap.


Evan rips his bung,
Spaghetti maker gets tongued.
Bad breath for Marshall


Haiku? FUCK YOU!!

I say it's couplet time...

Evan drinks so much he shakes
But oh so steady when cock he takes


A Haiku….

Knowledge is Shit

Life’s peristalsis
Squeezing through digestive tract.
Tapered brown wisdom.

Mastel Paur


Honolabre Erdel Mudshalk,

I thought there was supposed to be a love component to the haiku. How about?

Tapered brown wisdom
Tootsie roll released at eight
Bambi tastes choc'late.


Humbrest Lhagee


Democrat bitch-slap
Dumb-ass Bush fucked his party
Hackett wants Haggard


Tatu need a haiku? Let Rhagu oblige:

Totar Dodir fucked
Snatcher singlemindedness
Fuck you, Tatu, too!

Now, bite off and let Dr. Muddy have his way with you.


Queenwood...go to and enjoy your caption on the 2006 photos, bitch.

Haiku?? Fuck you!!

Sean sucks Evan's dick
Evan then sucks his right back
Mouths don't open much


Haiku 1

Democrat republican
Shit still smells the same to me
Hopefully proved wrong

Haiku 2

We will wait and see
Eager for progress nationally
Thoughts in my crotch where

Haiku 3

My musty moist balls
Full of bad deeds yet unleashed
TATUs tarter sauce


Fuck your soul. We won't even be gentle to your ass.

I'm's some linkin':

Tatu writes Haiku
15 times ain't near enough
He's just an asshole

Yarrow's an asshole
Talks of being at The Snatch
Tits out yet again

"Tits gone if you Snatch"
Wife lays down her errant shit
Yarrow's dick falls off

Yarrow's got no dick
Time to hang up his manhood
Wedding band is noose

Link this, bitch.


Mudshark, Bambi, Snoid
Ride up Tatu's asshole at
Casa de Fruta.

Gay eunuch slumps from car
spent. Sodomized by codgers;
new fall ritual.

Still rookie, Tatu
Passed around cabin like bong.
Show up or shut up.

Weird. I don't ususally get this excited about an upcoming Snatch until like late August. Butt, a four-hour ride up with Tatu, and TWO SHIRTS!!!! I can't hardly wait.



Pucho Tongue on diz
Bangbi, Snoid, Tatu scramble
Fiercest competitors.

Jock for position
Kerchief straps up sagging jaws
Gummers gums gummin'.

Veterans teach rook
Their clandestine Snatcher ways
Brundt jealous bugger.


Hackett is a tool
Brown shirts need dumb ass yes men
He has matching shorts


Hey Hackett...did they find your CDs? Maybe you forgot how we kept telling you to shove them up your ass. Perhaps we can get the Dicks-ease Chicks to cover this little ditty for ya.

Once there was a faggy doc
He reached around a tiny cock
His probe was sharp as a pointy stick...
And Hack soon felt the splooge of his dick!

Jellyyyy...Dr. Jellyfinger
Don't use no tools
But his probe sure lingers!

Jellyyyy...Dr. Jellyfinger
Forgot to wash
Gots a smelly finger!


Greetings Snatchers:

How about an Xmas tune? An old favorite:

Jingle bells, Benner smells, Evan’s gone to bed
Walk outside ya gotta hide, from vomit overhead
Dave’s alive, takes a dive, in his pants he’s peein
How we cried when notified, that Dave was on our team

Go back in, Agg begins, Jack is passed around
Lame Cds, no one’s pleased, but Hackett’s getting down
Show begins, Peaches’ sin, Marshall picks his nose
Rookies scream, when they see, how far that enema goes

Benner videos, virgins are afraid, in the barn we go, then the pig gets laid
Chubby bunny plays, funny bulging cheeks
Don‘t know when the shirts will show, we ain’t getting them for weeks.

Oh Jingle Bells, Benner smells, God he smells real bad.
We could say “Fuck Kerig” all day, butt he is fucking Brad
Mudshark drops, highway cops, Evan’s the deployer
Oh what fun it is to be a oakie butt chin lawyer
Oh what fun it is to be a oakie butt chin lawyer

You knew it was just a matter of time, Rhag.



April is National Poetry Month...Haiku? Puck choo!

Sark eats huge t-bone
Followed by big chef's salad
Toilet is now clogged


Teacher standards nil
Grammar schoolers outsmart him
Time off none too soon


Summer's on the way
Evan stuck behind his desk
And behind Marshall


Dilemma plagues Dave
Summer break brings Fantasies
No Lil' boys on Knees


Dodir Queen of Queens
Monarch seeks the priestly prize
Brundt wears royal crown


This is not Bwian
It is Cronin, who's chromin'
Bwian has some hair


Dave knew my last name (5)
I cannot recall His though (7)
Since not on Golf Plaque (5)


Many names on plaque
There's Lodwig, Hackett, E. Field
Such stellar golfers


Sleeping peacefully
Two a.m. phlegm wake-up call
Sherlock is a dick

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