Pinochio
Pinochio, as well you know,
A lie he could not tell.
Or else his nose, the story goes,
would grow as long as Hell.
But what’s not known will fill this poem
About that playful puppet.
His escapades, the writer gave
Were lies themselves, goddammit!
It wasn’t his nose that would grow long.
It was, of course, his wooden schlong,
That when he did not tell the truth,
Would grow and grow right through the roof.
Well the puppet fell for a local girl,
Whose face was framed by golden curl.
He likened her to the rarest pearl
Shaped in some unearthly world.
He tried to woo her,
She had no clue or
Didn’t want the puppet’s hand.
But then one night,
To his delight,
She offered up a one night stand.
‘No strings attached?’ she softly asked.
Of course the puppet did agree.
She let down her hair and underwear,
‘The carpets match the drapes, I see.’
And she replied, ‘Now, lie to me!’
He told her lies and falsities
Which filled her with an ecstasy,
But he could not stop
His verbal onslaught.
Each lie was more extravagant
Than the last and quite flagrant.
He lifted her up toward the roof
Until she broke, collapsed in two.
Her right side fell on his right side.
And Pinochio lay back, said ‘Oh my! What a ride!’
