Come on, Catullus, die. You might as well.
That pustule Nonius sits as a judge
Vatinius is consul by some fudge
And broken oaths. So die, you might as well.
I had to laugh, when some guy in the crowd
amazed at how dear Calvus talked us through
Vatinius' crimes so clearly, said aloud
'This man's so miniscule and speaks well too.'
Otho shits down his legs. You cannot take
him anywhere. His head is tiny too.
Libo has gentle farts. You could mistake
them for a sigh or breeze. I hope that you
are getting irritated, Caesar. I could make
fun of Sufficius, next – somehow it's true
he's senile yet again. Great Lord, I'll make
fun of your friends to make fun of you too.
It's turned out nice again for that sweet pair-
Caesar and his Mamurrus. You might stare
in wonder, but it's really no surprise.
They're just alike – one has the other's eyes -
although one's Roman, one from Formiae.
They've oozed over each other like a dye
they never will wash off, or a disease
that they're both sick with. They are twins in sleaze
who've taught each other cunning tricks in bed.
They share all things, and give each other head,
and they swap wives especially their own,
and hand their fucks over without a groan
except for little girls. You know it's true.
They've fucked each other and they'll fuck Rome too.
A lot of you know this by now...But I am Poet Laureate GOH at Illustrious 2010, the Eastercon next year. Hoorah.