Her eyes were blue as Crater Lake,
Her breasts were like Mount Hood.
Her hair fell like Multnomah Falls
And all these things were good.
I held her hand and felt as big
And strong as Haystack Rock
Until my wife came home that night
And smacked me with her cock.
Filed under Poems
I’m young and very beautiful
As you can clearly see,
And so I guess you’re losing sleep
So oft you think of me?
…
It’s true that you are beautiful,
It’s true that you are young,
But I think of you as often
As the flavor of my tongue.
Filed under Poems
She said “You’re too accommodating
“And also get defensive a lot.”
I said “That’s fine, we’ll work it out
“And also, no I’m not.”
Filed under Poems
I asked “Why call it PMS?
“This will really save my bacon!”
One man wrote back “It’s PMS
“‘Cause ‘Mad Cow Disease’ was taken.”
Filed under Poems
I was sitting by myself
When, as if from out of thin air,
A nymph straight from my fantasies
Asked “Is anyone sitting there?”
I smiled as well as a man can smile
When faced with an 11/10
And said “It’s free.” She said “Lovely!”
Then gave it to her friend.
Filed under Poems
A long, forgotten time ago
In long-forgotten lands
There lived a pair of lovely twins
Who worked as stablehands.
The first girl was named Allison,
The second, Mirabella.
Both had dreams of rescue
By a prince (or princely fella).
Both were bright and beautiful
And full of youthful vigor,
Their smiles were breezes in the heat
And fires within the frigor.
Allison worked hard all day
Attending to the mules,
Believing that her honest work
Would lead to princely jewels.
Mirabella worked instead
As little as she could,
Aiming to stay soft and clean
As any princess should.
Many peasants came to try
To earn a sister’s heart.
Some were strong or rich or brave
And others still made art.
But neither flowers and poetry
Nor deeds both great and small
Could attract the twins, who wanted
A prince, else none at all.
Allison grew old and strong
And wealthy all the while.
Mirabella just grew old,
But did it with a smile.
There are far fewer princes
Than lovely stablehands
In both the world in which we live
And long-forgotten lands.
Neither twin could find a prince
And neither was a wife
But both, at least, had managed
To live a happy life.
Filed under Poems
