Critique Oblique

Critic of the black and white
Its your first night.
The passion play gets in the way,
Spoils your insight.
Tell me how the babys made,
How the ladys laid,
Why the old dogs howl with sadness.
The blue thing in the ball leaves naught but a bloody footprint on The memory of last summers trip to europe
Did you buy a passport from the queen?
And your little sisters immaculate virginity wings away on the bony
Shoulder of a young horse named george who stole surreptitiously
Into her geography revision.
The examining body examined her body.