What wonder has a flower,
A daisy or a rose,
To the clueless human
As on its way it goes?
A work of nature, beautiful,
Is worth not but a glance
For what interest has a human
In the idle ways of plants?
But a very ugly flower
That can nauseate by sight,
That makes you want to kick a baby,
Draw attention that just might.
So when you see the spiders
Crawling from my bloodshot eyes
I seek your fondness and attention.
‘Twas not that so very wise?
I saw her and yelled to her “Hey!”
Then I asked “those legs go all the way?”
Then I thought “what the heck?”
‘Cause her legs met her neck
Which I noticed as she walked away.
She asked me “who’s your favorite?”
I said “of course it’s you!”
She asked me “do you mean it?”
I said “of course it’s true!”
But I lost my concentration
And answered “you, of course” once more.
I still don’t know why she asked
“Who’s that girl dressed like a whore?”
“If I were a pickled spleen
Kept in a jar for 30 years
Charged with electrical current
In a chamber full of your darkest fears,
Then released from the jar on a Sunday
And carried overseas by some birds
To attend celebrations in Istanbul
Would you still kiss me afterwards?”
Don’t want to marry just some girl.
I’m looking for a wholesome girl.
A girl whose lack of cleavage
Warms my big platonic heart.
A girl who thinks that working’s
Not synonymous with twerking.
A girl who skips the bar
Because she wants to look at art.
I want to find a happy lass
Who doesn’t want to shake her ass,
Who goes to church on Sundays
And buys ice cream from a truck,
Who’s pure and chaste and sweet
And, instead of “lit,” says “neat.”
But I also want Beyonce,
So I’m feeling kinda stuck…
Some men are boob guys.
Some like hair and eyes.
Some seek butts from all across the globe.
Some go nuts for feet,
But what I think’s neat
Is a lady with some really nice earlobes.
I’d be wary of a felon
But she needn’t be a saint.
She eats food almost every day
And will very seldom faint.
She has two eyes, two nostrils too,
And her scalp is topped with hair.
Her days are always better
When she has access to breathable air.
I may sound picky when I say this
But she should have a mouth that can open.
Is there such a perfect girl?
Well, ’til we know, here’s hopin’.