Thursday, August 20, 2020


To baste the face with grace,  

waste not her special place.

She asked first,

"could brush and stroke quench thirst?"

 Paint that ass first, and whole town believe ya, 

We the task force, Frankford to Sepviva. 

Frank Dukes and Bob Seger,

See much of city, 

submarine-like we sneak

underground, downtown, 

west side to Cobb's Creek.

We ahead of you. We on ya.

Talkin' Torresdale, 

hail Tonya.

Torresdale is Her neighborhood, in Philly’s northeast 

“Fill me north and south, my mouth is is Hep free, at least”   


Torresdale trauma.

Philly's step-daughter

with 5, I said 5 Chinese 

Wrestlers up on her.

Heels, Aces, were rambling, 

gambling, dice. 

Then sampling the depths 

of Tonya on a Friday night.

From the 70s, 80s, all you ladies

know we want ya

Not the fist bumpin' type 

is Torresdale Tonya. 

More like "fist hump and bite"

Hadda warn ya.

She meaty mama, rich like lasagna 

dicks bleed when Tonya come off ya, 

Torresdale top gun she gonna 

live long and prosper. The hunter!


Northside's pride, a pauper.

Not prostitute for loot, 

self sufficient, so applaud her. 

Do not defraud her. She has two daughters.

With their father, farther and Farklin' away from slaughter.

Order? There’s no order, martyr.

Barter drugs for bust nuts? Baller.

All her pockets now rockin out 

with that hard white twisted shout.

Helter Skelter you’ve gone and dealt her

A license to stomp out the shelter.

In swelter, philly September funk, 

you Felt her rear end and top shelf bumps.

Stop ya self once and trust in your gut 

This nut you score? Four more with you in the cut.

Now THAT’s what’s up

 cuz that’s what’s for sale

Your tour guide, for joyridin 

high as fuck through Torrresdale.

You made the team, you went third when pumping.

Just in! Your sin, your lust, and bustin’


"Crop dusted by drug pipes, 

schlongs and ass mist.

Got busted on drug buy

made the shit list.

High as fuck 

sunk deep, 

all creeped out, i'm freaked"

Divorced, disordered, fallen from grace,

Hit floor from ceiling, i'm talkin' rump-to-face,

Pump the brakes, brace for impact, 

i drain sack, knock a head back 

with a chin smack, Rat-a-tat skeet sap.

Blast her mug = she grasps, she tugs

seaworthy pervin, she earns this meat

Wants a necklace, she pulls full speed,

Starboard the harbor, and weigh The anchor 

Port side report, good lawd, go thank her. 

Spank her, crank her, then raise the antenna

Choreboy FM, no adults, no duenna.

Send a brick to the boiler, 

shovel rocks, why not join her?




Sure, ya 

scored, roared, made the grade

But in the shade dark gray, you get played. 

Pulled your cash out

. . . Fool you assed out. 

Queen Supreme reign

Front St. to stash house.

PASS OUT! Hop a train! 

Maintain yo distance, or just maintain.

Philly ate you. Chewed ya soul up.

We don't hate you. True, you po'd up.


Freed the hot sauce, sprung it loose

she's boss of young sausage in queue. 

She work them, then rewind, 

she keep them sprintin, hustlin',

She chipped beef, they white wiz  

Like Steve the Prince of Bustleton.

The ole prince awakes, armed with steaks to spawn mania

The hole, it awaits, tender and tough, Tonya's labia. 

She let you mark her, a load of honor

hold fast and blast, face bomb her.

Hurt it and work it, they must.

Spurter, goat herder, throw nuts.  

Pearls are hurled, clam spit for lust, 

Tonya is daily deflecting tourists in Torresdale by bus.  

Gutsy her fan club (insane) claim they'll kill bear cub (so lame)

Tonya ain't bout love, 

she'll make you a butt plug.

Tell me not to, 

and who gone prop you

up to stop who? 


See, that's who.

You vs. Me only. 

Offense, defense, goalie.

War drums boom-bap, till dawn ya

on that warpath, for Tonya.

August and all this, so hot & so gritty, 

Restless quarantined city, breasts with my head on tittie.

A hockey bukakke ya see?

Timbuktu flopped and popped free.

Ruptured her structure, though buttered, roughly I stuffed her, 

Crushed fur deluxe, sow nuts, her bust drippin, muff stirred.

Standing room bystanders

pre-sent their chins deftly.

Chin basted, a bastard bowl of

gravy taste hefty.

Fret the score, sweat the soundtrack to my trail? 

Trail remix, sound check your people, check's in the mail. 

Nut allergy, maybe? may we

Say the nut powers be: crazy. 

Pay me. Lay me.

No ladies get freebies.

Maybe, baby

stop, drop, heebie jeebies. 

Papi hang it all out,

Tonya twist, and we shout.

Total tulips, they foolishly 

Tangle Total Tools Toolishly, 

They race dong jugglin flunkies 

in tea baggin hipsters, or junkies.

Run tell dat to Havertown packs, 

whacked by Blue Pachyderm’s tax.

I’ll be dollar shave clubbin 

my sack and my beanpole,

Tanya lovin the saving of money,

funny, she tickles my taint hole.

Her operation poppin, 

snappin and trappin, unholstered.

Boaster's and braggarts 

maintain integrity, Kosher.

I’m Bruce Leibowitz, that’s who you’re trying to stop, B. 

Kung Fu, Jew Jitsu, Hasidic, Bu-kak-ke.

Lights, camera, bathroom, action! 

Bu-Kak-Keys to satisfaction.

Anal expression, back door bukakke.

Dicks port and starboard, call me Knute Rockne.

 “Bukakke, shock me! 

Facials, rock me

I am Torresdale Tanya, 

not some farmer's daughter, property.” 

Torresdale, T-Town, where SHE down. It’s on!

Scratchin' crotch and scratch-offs from dusk till dawn

Fucks roughneck neighbors on your lawn (front and back)

Bukakke done properly. LIGHT ‘EM UP, EVERYONE STAND BACK! 

Sniffed by a pedophile

Tonya knew truth was vile 

Peter Pan (now an old man) 

Dimed out by his left hand. 

Tree Street, Pete was snatched off.

on which his face got bashed off

where they hosed off, 

smoked, laughed, coughed

"Arms tucked? Chuck ‘em." 

Cast off!

Now my story's grim and 

It has no strong women.

Got bit in Pete's crimpin,

I’m dragging trap, limpin

"Timmy Tainttickler," & I'm Gimpin.

Simply, I’m grinnin’ eh.

No triggers, still winnin’, they

cross the thin line, steady, 

fine print, i'm grave-ready.

Pouring, a torrid hail 

that drips and fills my pail

War on for Torresdale? 

Warpath? Or ole dirt trail? 

 Philly. Northeast. You gotta

Smash on. More beast. True daughter


filth be dealt to ya

skills be meltin' ya.

Tits swell, i'm tellin ya!

They church bells with noon songs.

Ole Ashy and Them Chocolate Jimmies spring along,

all drippin' with Jim Crow disgust, 

bearing the cost of our rust.

Ask "who we done blessed with our trust?"

To EL-P, I'd tell thee . . . "we nuts."