Shitty But Frankly (7 Times 7 Myrskets By Friends In Poetry) Selection of Chris Myrski, 2018      [ On the cover must be close-up of some, I wouldn't say nice, but at least not smelling, thing that in English begins with "sh" and ends with "it", dropped by some inattentive cow on some green field. ] CONTENTS      0. Introductory Remarks      1. Barbara Farpipi      2. Hans Langerschwanz      3. Piotr Ioberoff      4. Michel de Culot      5. Uybre Haremdzhi      6. Pissuaria Pudenderosa      7. Dign Jing Finn      8. Chris Myrski         The Phallus         Addendum: The Life Is ... (a ballad) Introductory Remarks      This is a book of poetry, yet it isn't in my traditional form (divided in sections like: philosophical, sexy, for children, etc.), but is a collection of several (7) new authors and contains only the invented by me Myrskets (by 7 such from an author), plus a rounding (to make them 50) piece from me, and an Appendix with one shitty (if I may allow myself this expression, but when it stays on the title then I, surely, can) ballad that waits the musician, who will use it as libretto. Ah, and they have one small introductory half-page plus one small verse at the end, preferably of 7 lines. Now, why and how I came to this idea?      Well, you know, such things happen, in most cases by itself. I mean that, as far as for a pair of years my new form of poetry, that is an analogue of the sonnet, but much better, more alive (because the rhythm changes with each couplet), and which was unanimously named Myrsket in my honour, become widely known all over the world, some, I would even add many, young authors, became so enthusiastic with them, that began to compose their own Myrskets and send them to me for my expert assessment. And what could I do, unless to tell them that, all right, the verses are very good, let them continue in this way, and maybe after some 20 or so years they will reach and overpass even me, such things.      But then I said to myself: why not to make a fine collection from their verses, and publish them under my name, ah? For me this was good, because in this way I only copy the verses and collect the royalties, and for them, too, because they were ready even to pay me for to publish their works under my hat. So that I only said to them to restrict themselves with exactly seven Myrskets in their order, and with some small preface of their choice, and I ordered them in the chronological order of their receiving by me. In this way the lambs (these are the young authors) are whole and kicking, and the wolf (that's me, of course) is satiated.      Also I told them to use, when necessary, the introduced by me symbol "º" for marking of additional syllable, that makes a good pair with the ellipsis ("'") symbol when a syllable is dropped, and allowed them to use a pair of lines for some comments to the verse (if they find that this is necessary). Some of them explain their names and /or pseudonyms, some not, this is up to them. And have in mind that they are, usually, not native English speakers, they use time and again some foreign word (which you can look up in the Internet, or with the help of some computer-translator or a dictionary), but I am also such, so that some errors may still remain here and there, yet nobody's perfect, as you know.      Ah, about the title of the book. You see, this is open and frank poetry, then not pretty decent, even a bit (or more) cynical, hence also philosophical (because the cynicism is a philosophy), but for many people this often is confused with the vulgarity and they think that this is a shitty thing, right? So that, in the end, I said to myself: OK, let it be shitty, but it is nevertheless frankly and funny, and nowadays this is what matters.      Nice reading to you, dear readers, of the new pleiad of followers, or brethren of the pen, or friends in poetry, of the known modern poet      Chris Myrski, 2017 - 2018, Sofia, Bimbinistan (known also as Bulgaria, or the poorest European democratic area) Barbara Farpipi      Welcome to you, a horde of my dear readers,      Ohne Bedeutung, mit oder ohne Glieder,      I am one of those writers who you can call titty,      Yet I can assure you that I am also witty.      Judging by my family name I am Italian, and, really, I was born in the small paese Butanna, written with double "n" in contrast with that word with double "t", which if begins with "p" will mean the most widely spread, let's say occupation, of a girl. My real family name was Brippi, but as far as this meant nothing already my school mates called me Farpipi, what is to squatter and do this thing which men can quite well do standing, am I clear? But well, this is a nice sounding name, and when I came to my teens and began to far l'amore more often than I did this pipi, I come to the conclusion that this is a good enough pseudonym, and hence as you see, I use it now.      More details I don't think necessary to put here, because my Myrskets are, in fact, deeply felt, and portray me in more melodious way than the prosaic words can do. But OK, as to my tastes I can say, that I have tasted quite different "things", long, short, thick, fine, and so on, and they all are good enough to me, I am a liberal girl. And as to the poetical genres I can add that those of Myrski correspond so well to my own, that if I have not come to his verses I would have invented alone this genre.      Nov 2017, Barby Farpipi, Butanna, Italy, EU           WHEN I THINK      When I think that I am from the women,      But could have been one of those who semen      Throw away and nature thus pollute,      Can't avoid to send Got my salute.      'Cause to throw some juice can everybody,      This as kind of pleasure 's-primitive,      Still, I often offer them my body      Like a ... dustbin, for I can forgive.      But to take, preserve in oneself, maybe grow,      If a need is, future creature, sprout,      Is important thing, methinks, no doubt,      Hence I practice it by ten times in a row.      And the woman's generally better      Organized and finely cut, like letter,      And has in the sex more fun, what matters.      2017, Barby Farpipi           WILLY-NILLY      I am willy-nilly making sex,      Usually looking for pretext;      Although I know well, that life's futile,      I still do it, when I can and while.      Monday morning I say: week begins,      Let refresh us with some copulation,      Then in Tuesday I fall in routine,      So in Wednesday, but no exaltation.      This is every day and I don't know,      Is it thirty already old age?      'cause from my teens everything has changed,      And I, begged to blow these days, said "no".      Who knows, maybe life's like ... anaconda,      It devouºrs us and we don't wonder,      And are ready thus to pass beyond, ah?      2017, Barby Farpipi           THE WOMAN'S BODY      Woman's body 's-spoiled much by the breasts,      That to please are ready each man-guest.      What means that we suffer 'cause are women,      This the major point is, the sublimer.      So I think that breasts of tea-cup size      Are enough, considered as a lure,      More than this seems not to be much wise;      If they grow, then tie them tight, endure.      Also I am learning to ... piss standing --      This is done with thing like piece of straw      Stuck deep in cork stopper, nothing more;      In this way we nature are amending!      Only when we try to reach the men,      They in turn reach us, suppose I, then      Can we come to new harmonious blend.      2017, Barby Farpipi           I AM NOT OF THOSE      I am not of those who think that men      Lower stay than we, but if and when,      Then I wonder why they always hurry      (As if have in their ... assholes curry).      'Cause the sooner throw they what they have to,      Faster shrinks the prick like rubber hose,      None the less the fact that eggs they have two;      What is always hard, ha, ha, 's-the nose.      Due to this they are deprived of feelings,      Harmony, orgasm, 's-for them just clatter;      They are happy, 'cause they don't know better,      Yet I think that ouºr part is thrilling.      Still, I don't say: men must noºw perish.      No, I find them necessary, very --      For without ... dupes life can't be carried.      2017, Barby Farpipi           GOD'S SEX      God of one and single sex must be --      This is if you openly ask me --,      It must not be by the sex distracted      When in favour of all beings's acted.      More important's not to have descendants,      That will live forever and again,      Such thing will be really horrendous:      Who will be then God, I mean the main?      Entity existing just for ever      Has to care not to propagate;      New thing can't be greater than the great,      Neither "ever" longer be than ever.      What means that we copulate because      Are restricted in the time and those,      Who came after us will ... die, of course.      2017, Barby Farpipi           COPULATION      Copulation's making from two one,      Two old beings melt in single one.      This seems strange, but philosophically      This is what makes the synthesis valid.      And the life on two processes 's-based,      Th'one's analysis, dividing, fission,      Th'other's joining, fusion, in each case,      Though, new things arise, and new conditions.      So we join and split, and join and split,      And are happy in the expectation      Of each stage, move freely between stations,      Where join in one thing for a bit.      Hence, each either has a stick, or then a hole,      And to match one with the other is the goal,      And this game is of the life on Earth the soul.      2017, Barby Farpipi           NOT ASHAMED      I am not ashamed to have a slit.      After all, the very God made it.      But it's nice and soft and very fine,      And the hidden clitor's tiny-tine.      And the place is chosen very aptly,      You can try to shift it left or right,      Or then up, and thighs serve to protect it,      And to jump back-fort, when sex we try.      So I'm fond of this my purple shell,      That's prepared for the propagation,      But's the major cause for exaltations,      And for uttering of happy yells.      Ah, I sang a song to this sex valley,      That I like to kiss but can't, and, well, it      Is my pride and I will never sell it.      2017, Barby Farpipi           THE LOVE AS RAFT           (Myrskettino)      It happened in my youth to fall in love,      But I was silly, egoistic thing,      So I fought even whom to lie above,      And turned thus th'very bed to boxing ring.      I was like newly broken stone, sharp, rough,      While in the river they are smooth and sing!      It's better when one keeps afloat as raft.      2017, Barby Farpipi !!      And from here to the end of the work everything is deleted here, because I am publishing on Western sites some works against payment. This will continue for long time, at least till 2025th but maybe later, and also for several languages, so that you have to search for me on the Internet just writing my names, preferably in quotes, and/or the title. The prices will not be very expensive and you can always combine a pair of friends to buy one copy, I suppose; I will object only if somebody tries to win something with my works, but to read - please do this. Chris Myrski           THE PHALLUS      I always felt desire to mention,      That phallus is the best of God's inventions.      The chiefly reason being that it's ... fallen      Most of the time, and then erect and swollen.      But it is also, surely, masterpiece,      It looks like shaft, or cudgel, gun, or spike,      And even when it's shrunken, like of cheese,      It looks, still, decent, so that can be liked.      While woman's womb is different a thing,      It seems putrescent, metamorphous place,      It can't be deified, and in such case      Remains the penis, destined hymns to sing.      So that I'm not a gay, but can't deny,      That phallus is a thing to cry: wow, why,      Just look, ah hoºw nice, my God, oh my!      April 2018, Chris Myrski ... Goodbye from all the crew        May, 2018 E N D