Tag Archives: Relationships

For Those Who Love To Laugh, Hiking, Traveling, And Food

We could’ve been a miracle

Like a bottle of lightning,

With ardor and passion

That bordered on frightening,

Two bits of a puzzle

That fate formed as one

Destined for fortune

And family and fun.

We could’ve been lovers

And best friends for life,

The textbook example

Of husband and wife.

You could’ve been my world,

My earth, sea, and sky,

If only your first message

Were more than just, “hi.”

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That One Supermodel Who’s Still Single For Some Reason

Some things are unspeakable,

Depraved beyond compare.

The fact that they exist

Causes many much despair.

Such things are irredeemable

And inspire only hate

And it’s important I discuss them

On every single date.

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A Sonnet For When Your Vegan Girlfriend Puts You In The Doghouse

How soft the calling of the rose in bloom;

Its rage not diminished by its small size,

For it has seen a man deliver doom

With not a drop, remorseful, from his eyes.

The rose who screams has seen its brothers fall,

Cleft and tied as trinkets for a hot date.

It cries without lungs, giving it its all,

Petals in bloom, show’ring it foes with hate.

Then red and white and pink and gold align

Together in the vengeful rose’s song,

A harmony unheard by humankind

Until they are a dozen voices strong.

Then weep! The florist ends their final day.

Aren’t you relieved I brought you no bouquet?

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A Halfass Ballad

Come all ye round and sit ye down

And hear me lonesome tune

About a man who dreamed to show

The whole wide world the moon.

He dreamt of walking round in space

And that breathtaking view

And yet alas, a dream of NASA

Never could come true.

For this here lad of whom we sing

Was born without a feature

Incurable by brilliant minds

Or the nation’s finest teacher.

The man, who’s name we shall not say

For fear what he might do

Was born with only one buttock…

Just half the normal two!

Now don’t ye mock the man who had

That single wondrous cheek,

The sight of which could shush a bitch

And make her knees grow weak.

Oh yes, the ladies stopped and stared

And many more went mute

When they’d walk by the halfass guy

And his one glorious glute.

Alas, with but a half a butt

The fellow couldn’t run,

And so he’d sit and tan a bit

In rain or sleet or sun,

Leaving all a full display

The privilege of his birth:

And in the night the moon so bright

Shone on the moon of Earth.

Now in the water by the beach

Whereon our hero tanned

There lived a mermaid of the sea

With hair like golden sand

Who also wore no clothes to hide

Her modesty from view,

And soon she fell in love, for she

Had just one buttock too.

She sang a song of ocean life:

How living in the sea

Was not unlike the moon in that

It lacked most gravity.

She beckoned him to join her in

A land both wet and wild

To share a life of happiness

With many a one-cheek child.

Our hero was quite skeptical,

For of the girls he knew.

Could a lass with half an ass surpass

A lass whose ass had two?

And more important in his mind

Was if he could adjust

To a woman who, as all could view,

Had also but one bust?

Yet as she sang, way up and down

Did heave that single breast

And with such grace his dream of space

Was soon but second best.

And so they left the land alone,

No longer to breath air.

And thus one perfect buttock was

Half of a perfect pair.

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Filed under Lyrics, Poems

What A Catch!

She doesn’t play mind games.

She doesn’t hate pets.

These days that’s quite close to as good as it gets.

She isn’t ugly.

She isn’t mean.

She’s the not-baddest person that I’ve ever seen.

She has other friends.

She gets off the couch.

Her spirit animal is not Oscar the Grouch.

She’s not into drama.

She’s not a KGB spy.

My only concern is that “she” is a guy.

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Guest Poem from Al Bundy

If marriage were like football

There would be no single men.

Every year they’d scout for wives

And draft a girl or ten

Then sign them to a contract

For a couple wondrous years

And give them shirts with numbers

And use them to sell beers.

We’d all have favorite teams of wives

Like the Ashleys or the Sophies

Who live in different cities

And try to win us trophies,

And when the best turn 40

(Or sometimes just 34)

We’d trade them off to other teams

And draft a dozen more.

If marriage were like football

Maybe life would be ok,

But instead it seems to be more like

The WNBA.

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She Wants You Inside Her

The phrase “I want your baby”

Is sometimes super hot.

Mostly it depends if she’s

A cannibal or not.

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You Can’t Do It Alone

He found the perfect woman

And he bought the perfect ring

And he planned a perfect marriage

For a perfect queen and king.

Together in the gardens

He knelt and asked, “Would you…?”

And she took a knee beside him

And they silently protested racial injustice in sports.

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Feel The Burn

I’m not a really kinky dude

(As you may have surmised)

So I don’t know if this is real

But I wouldn’t be surprised:

There should be a dating site

For folks who “sub” or “dom”

To meet in public places…

“Strike-Anywhere Match.com”

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Relationship Goals

Two years ago on Sunday

I looked into her eyes

And promised her I love her

And I’m not like other guys.

One year ago on Sunday

I met with her and said

I’d fly us both to Venice

And we’d never leave the bed.

And now this year on Sunday

I’ll ask her to be my bride

And maybe this time she’ll says yes

And I’ll feel good inside!

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