Hey, Jodie-Hardon; what’s your constellation? Albanese produces roe; do you produce seamen? Or is it a fake marriage between pussies? No gander to pander only stinking goosies? Labor is a sea of a disaster, not safe arbor because it is led by a treacherous bodygrabber Is he, now, desperately trying to swallow me, God? He’ll get my kicking boot and striking rod! Continue reading “Hey Jodie Hard-on, you won’t get my pardon!: A poem “