Well, it’s thanks to my friend, Neillie, that I'm standing here today;
He captured me down at his shop as I reached out to pay.
He said, “I have a job for you, and you've twelve weeks to prepare.”
I thought, my God - he wants his toenails clipped or help to dye his hair.
Now, a toast that's for the ladies; Lord, wherever will I start?
He said, “That's nothing rude or nothing crude, but something from the heart.”
So, I scratched my head and searched my soul; I was’nae getting far.
It seems that Neillie's harsh restrictions took out half my repertoire.
Anyway - Oh the Bard, he loved the ladies, and oh how they loved him back;
Seems a poem's all it took those days to get them in the sack.
No wonder he liked writing of the love that hid within,
Which explains his suave and healthy look, and how he kept so trim.
If only it were like that now; I’d write for all I'm worth,
Grabbing every chance I could each day to nail another verse.
And my wife, she would be pleased for me at all my new attention,
And I'd be thin from running scared from too much pain to mention.
Now, once my business took me roaming to each corner of Great Britain,
So, I catalogued the ladies; just the ones that I was smitten.
Well, Welsh girls they took hours to please, and the Irish take some beating,
And the English girls are very, very nice if your ears can take their bleating.
Ah, but Scottish girls are best by far; as steady as a rock,
But, if by chance your eye should stray, you'll wake withoot your cock.
So I married one, with no regrets; best move that I've made yet,
And I love her dear, with all my heart, in a life with no regret.
For like the Bard, I settled down when love could get no hotter,
But compared to him and his wondrous works, sure I'm just a ditty jotter.
Oh Sweet Ladies, you are dear to us - where would we be without you?
In wrinkled clothes and motley beards in a house of straw and cow poo.
Without you we would just exist - watching football in a bar;
Just sitting, drinking, laughing, eating, drinking…..and sleeping in the car.
Dear, Sweet Ladies, we don’t kid ourselves; we know you have us beat,
Hence why we hold the doors for you, and chairs each time you seat.
We love to do the chivalrous stuff - it makes us look the strongest,
You see, we have to make the most of things - you live the feckin longest.
Well, at last it’s time for me to stop - and give you chance to mingle,
And I'll make peace with my dear wife, before I'm Facebook status: single.
Now, gentlemen, I ask you all - please charge and raise your glasses,
And join me in a bumper toast: “To the beauty of the Lassies.”
I may be fat but I can cook soul food to put you in a good mood I don't mean to be rude but you look like a string bean
You only know how to make sandwiches I can make steaks to take your breath away
you say I look like a steak but you can't even make a cake you need to drink more shakes
I need to eat more salads but at least I have a big wallet
I may be fat but I can dance your eyes are glued to my thighs are you hypnotize yet
Do you want to take a chance and try to beat me in dancing you can't defeat me
I can shake my hips and do flips I can drop it like its hot you can only pop that's not much
Oh, now you want to challenge me but you can't balance on the dance floor
The crowd wants to see me more you were just a bore
I may be fat but I'm the one who looks pretty in this skirt you look silly like Big Bert
You say I don't look good in a bikini because I'm not tiny but at least I'm not bony like you
You say I look like a buffalo but at least I don't have a problem finding a fellow
I don't mean to be a pest but you started this mess why don't you give it a rest
I'm fat but I'm telling you I'm the best you don't need to guess
I may be fat but I'm good at writing poetry
You say that you're good too but people are going to say boo to you
You say that isn't true and I need to pray because I won't win but I know I can
You say that people wouldn't pay cash to see me but they will chase me I have a nice ass
you say your poetry will get publish but that's only a wish I will you forgot to take your pills
Men want to be with me because I have meat on me you only have bones
You say that I don't look like a model but men want to play with me and pay me to date
I may be fat but I found a man who likes me like that but your man said you act like a brat
I'm getting married tomorrow don't feel sorrow
You can laugh but at least I'm glad that I'm not sad or bad and I'm not a brat so take that
When snakes had legs and love was free,
A man called Adam climbed a tree.
Although he knew the act was banned,
He plucked an apple with his hand.
In Eden you could always find,
Delicious fruits of every kind.
And everyone of them were free,
Except the apples on this tree.
A snake you see, the curse of man,
Had swayed the mind of his woman.
His partner Eve had tried it all,
Except this luscious juicy ball.
But God had made it very clear,
He was the one you had to fear.
There is one thing you should not do,
”This tree is mine, and not for you!”
When battle rages in man’s mind,
To do what’s right for all mankind.
A woman’s will, will then prevail,
No matter if it makes him fail.
So Adam plundered to his fate,
His woman said she could not wait.
He plucked the fruit to his demise,
No matter that it was unwise.
Now God’s authority was broke,
They’d disobeyed the words he spoke.
He told them both to go away,
And closed his garden from that day.
So Eve and Adam, duly clothed,
Now left that place they’d been betrothed.
And found a world so large and free,
Where they could climb just any tree.
The snake of course had lost it’s legs,
Because he put God’s power to test.
By tempting woman in this way,
He’d had an awful price to pay.
But God it was, who came off worse,
His power was gone, and even worse.
A ‘woman’ had defeated him,
By making man commit this sin.
So women now will rule the land,
Not God, or men you understand?
For women conquer all they see.
While God enjoys ‘snakes legs’ for tea!
Lucy and Matilda were on the job at the burger joint.
Bad boy Buzz Muldoon rushed in brandishing a gun.
Matilda kicked the would-be robber square in his junk.
Lucy bashed his head in with a badass ball-peen hammer.
The two hard working ladies continued cleaning up the joint.
They chunked Muldoon in the dumpster with the rest of the trash.
Lucy and Matilda opened the establishment without missing a beat.
It was just another typical day right here in the big bad city.
To be successful entrepreneurs in this old turbulent world,
you have to grow a pair of big brass gnarly ones, be you male or female.
I have heard: Women burn fat almost 10% slower than men
It's does not feel justified
I have heard: Women live on average 3 years longer than men
Women have a better durability date (used before: .. - ... - .....)
Men: (must be used within: .. - .. - ....)
Why is it only women who are thinking about calories and diets
I bake delicious cakes .... that can only be eaten by my husband
..... I think I'll try one more piece :)
A-L Andresen :)
Never wear a little black dress that looks in distress or to compressed
it should always impress and softly caress.
If you wear a small but your a triple X and the length just fits under your derriere
you will surely start to unpack and start to attract.
Sitting is a challenge as you start to scoot down
you know your on a countdown and hoping for no breakdown.
At last you've hit touchdown as you take a deep breath
Only to hear a snap and pop as something starts to unlock from your famous squat.
Your self esteem has just dropped as you start to rock
from side to side you sway 'Do I sit or do I stay' as you start to pray.
With great poise and hoping for very little noise
You race for the door knowing you have to abort
taking the tablecloth with you as you deport.
1/25/15 T Reams 1st Place
Women are a thing of beauty
Created by God for man
From their different hips,to their lushes lips
Or the gentle touch of their hand
They all have a way about them
That I've noticed throughout the years
They have tender hearts,and precious smiles
With beautiful eyes that sparkle,when filled with tears
But they constantly look at other women
Though none will tell you that it's true
From their styles of hair,to the clothes they ware
It's a hidden secret that they all do
Some will say that I'm wrong
As they claim,"Hey that's not me"
But I'm a man who has watched for many years
And am now exposing the secret that I've seen
Some of them are concerned about their weight
Or possibly the droopiness of their breasts
Or the stretch marks that may have appeared some where
Along with menopause,PMS,and all the rest
All I can say is we are men
Who don't really notice most of those things
You are all beautiful in your own special ways
And you will always be a part of our dreams
I'm a bit confused when it comes to shoes and see a big toe that's been bruised
or the second toe is longer and trying to conquer the big toes space with an embrace
If you have this problem don't wear open toe shoes they do not amuse
but only gives us a clue you may need a canoe or a pair of tennis shoes
Why wear shoes that are four feet tall and look like a ski slope
and you walk like your on a tightrope afraid you will fall and have to crawl
If you have a toe problem don't be embarrassed a little buckle on your shoe top
will get a cute chuckle and you won't have to wear boots in that nice pants suite
T Reams 2/11/2015
Well it was another one of those days
Where the devil had come about
I was trying to write about the beauty of women
And the words just came right out
What I was trying to say was their all beautiful to me
And most men that I know would be sure to agree
But the words that I wrote that flew out so free
May have started a hate for me that I shall soon see
Now I'll spend my days all alone,and affraid to leave this house
For a woman might sneak up and try to strangle me with her blouse
I should have never wrote those words because I'm a spouse
And now my wife probably thinks I'm nothin more than a louse
But what I was trying to say was somethin most men will all agree
You don't need to always compare yourselves for it's something we all see
Your shoes,your clothes,your hair,your nails, it all just drives us so crazy
You all have your own beautiful look so please accept it and just let it be
I never meant to degrade you in anyway or to cause you any alarm
But the hits those words received seems like I may be heading for some harm
So I ask for your forgiveness and please don't send out your women of arms
Because I told the men in my neighborhood,and their quite handy with their charms
Before the "I do" she must choose
A man that does well in dance shoes
His psyche gives a clue
When employing step two
Ply him to the limit with booze
Come join the three for another cheap, meaningless day in their lives
They consider themselves to be hip, part of the same sex marriage, Burly the
husband, Flo and Mary the wives
Their day always starts at the breakfast table bashing the males that exist
They wish the males could be on the endangered species list
Sometimes things change among the three, as the estrogen level rises in Burly
Once a month, she wants to be a wife and act very girly
As for Mary and Flo, they think Oprah is hot
Burly thinks Rosie O'Donnell has the goodies she so much has sought
They sip their Busch Beer out of Nascar Coozies
There is no more room for anymore women within the circle of The Three
From their point of view, all men should be women's slaves
Burly has a strong scent of Old Spice after shave
They love watching domineering women type movies
The popcorn is shared by all Three Floozies
They go out to only all girls clubs
They cheer on the under dogs, their favorite one is the Chicago Cubs
Their closets are full of clothes by Dickies
They leave each other love notes on little stickies
Mary likes champagne on a store brand soda budget
Flo likes Butterbeans with cumin to make them smell pungent
Burly likes Pickled Eggs and sardines
Burly's favorite movie line is In space no one can hear you scream
Flo's favorite movie line is Go ahead, make my day
Mary's favorite movie line is My name is Chucky, do you wanna play?
Burly dreams of one day wrestlin' steers
Mary is concerned that Burly one day will leave, that's her worst fear
Flo watches the WWE, she is such a loyal fan
Burly uses her forehead to smash empty beer cans
None of you are mothers, so on your peanut butter selection, quit being choosy
Mary, Flo and Burly are today's Three Floozies
My tale about the barnacle I bared upon my bum
has now passed into legend and folk law
The battle I thought was over and now long done
Just when I thought I could sit down and relax
and lick my wounds
and heal my poor bum
I now have two barnacles
clinging on instead of one.
Their jealous of each other
and like a porcupines
my bum is very sore
I'm stuck in the middle
and I don't think I can take any more!!!!!.
My telephone is melting
and they push love notes through my door
I'm divided down the middle
and I'm preparing for war.
I have no idea why they follow me around like flies
maybe it's my aftershave that smells so nice
There's nothing about me
I do declare
but everytime I turn around
there's always someone there.
Why couldn't it ever be
who I really like
I even tried to escape on my motorbike last night
I thought I was just saddle sore
but latter when I pulled my trousers down
what did I see
not two barnacles but three.
I darn't leave the house no more
and I've barricaded myself in
I'm now a nervous wreck
and I've taken to drinking Gin
I've sealed the letter box and took the phone of the hook
and have been searching amazon for a useful book.
If your a poor sufferer too
have a hammer and chisel
we can help each other get through
just bare your bum like me
and maybe we could throw the barnacles back into the sea.
''Beware! their out there''.
Peter Dome. copyright.2014.march.
I dreamt myself as poet-frog
And good Fancy` Fairy
Would stoop to pick my verse…
But she didn`t come.
A spanking good tale
I read a blog -was it only yesterday
I haven’t laughed so much, I can truly say
About large women and I will not make fun
That’s because I am turning into one
But the blog that I read proved there is hope for all
As long as we can make sausages, if I recall
A massage or two with a pin rolling flat
Is it to iron out wrinkles or reduce the fat?
A spank a day or so I have heard
Is what middle age men like, but girls think absurd
A front bum, well that’s a new one on me
I have enough in the rear to perhaps make up three
But what gives me hope, apart from the front bum thing
Is that some men out there seem to enjoy this sort of thing
So send me you dreams followed by your numbers too
I’ll put them aside for when I’m ready for you
So thank you Chris for your blog yesterday
You have given hope to all women and that’s all I can say
Inspired By Chris D Aechner's Blog 15/02/2012
Your love pricks me like a rose each thorn grows but no one knows Your so full of
it as it shows so carry on now go on, go. I'm fed up with the phony and i'm
through with the tears, you couldn't pay me all your money to make up for those
years. Someone help me I feel faint how could I think he was such a saint and
worst of all I let me fall into a spiral down below. A magic called love carried
by the dove of someone I use to know.
You send bolts through my skin
something I was never to
accomplish with you, when I
saw you it's like my heart sank
to my stomach and I was in
shock my body still my body
heavy felt like when I moved I
was about to fall to my knees
you make me want to get
inside my brain pick you up and
take you out pick you one by
one like a flower because I do
love you and love you not.
The Pilgrims were so happy to finally set foot on Plymouth Rock,
They decided that the time had come for each to take some stock.
They built themselves a Pilgrim town of houses and very little more,
Then they sent the women out to get groceries at the Pilgrim store.
Pilgrims lived in a time when it was thought that only women ever shop,
They weren’t very enlightened and men would never make that stop.
While the girls were at the store the men invited the Indians over for lunch,
So as soon as the women got home they had to go get more to munch.
The men started to toss an old pumpkin around that was long and kinda tall,
Then they played shirts against the skins in a game they named football.
While the women worked to prepare a feast, the men all went for a walk,
With buckled hats and feathered plumes their parade was all the talk.
The women wanted revenge so they picked cranberries to make an awful sauce,
Then they made the men eat it the stuff just to show them who was boss.
Then there came a heated discussion whether to use sweet potatoes or yams,
Then a second argument broke out about the use of turkey meat or hams.
It all seemed to calm back down when the Indian cornbread was finally tried,
And the Indians really liked the green beans topped with onions that were fried.
And when the day was done and the guests took home the left over feast,
The men cleaned up the dishes, since it’s what women liked to do the least.
This is how they all came together and invented the first Thanksgiving,
It gave them strength to continue on with the hard life they were living.
The Native Americans went back to their home and were grateful for so much,
“But next year,” they said, “let’s tell the English it’s our year to visit with the Dutch.”
Crookhill ladies take the tee
On their very first “girly” golfing spree
To High Street stores they wave goodbye
Preferring sun-baked Spanish skies ,
Aperitifs in long, cool glasses
Served by waiters with tiny asses
No tears were shed, all eyes were dry
As they boarded EASY JET 109
On route for the infamous, Alicante
Where golfing convention rules out “hankey-pankey”
Aperitifs in long, cool glasses
Served by waiters with black silky ‘tashes
Pretty conservative as you’d expect
These would be, competition golfettes
All that is, except for Sheila
A real little animated golfing diva
She’ll sip the aperitifs in long cool glasses
More likely to kick than kiss their assets
All thoughts of home are driven away
Anticipating the games they’d play
Of practice, putts and competition
With dreams of victory a firm conviction
They sip the aperitifs in long cool glasses
While thoughts may turn to the young Señors' assets
Balmy nights they came and went
Their passion for golf now almost spent
Except for our Sheila - golfing diva
Lifting the trophy, a mega achievement
Sips champagne till way past dawn
Her entourage, she can’t recall
Coincidence?, I really can’t say
But those Spanish Señors look content today
The Cyber Nymph
Loch David Crane
August 18, 1997
Lie back--expose your belly ring
up unto the sky. . .
I just hope when I get down close
it won't put out my eye!
That summer I was 48
and she pert 25;
I left Prozac in the cupboard
and Reality went Live.
I shoulda taken time to stop
and used the vorpal rubber
But 48 he couldn't wait
to find another lover.
So while the Sun was merciless
to sand and skin and sea
"If she swells I'm sure she'll tell,
returning then to me."
I must admit I got her drunk--
I used her just for sex:
Blue and blond with freckles,
suntanned buns and pecs.
But she revealed computer skills
That took away my breath.
Her dancing cyber fingers sang;
I soon saw who was best.
Ol' 48 could bare compute
"Not very fast" she said;
"I've practiced years not to be fast"
gasped I, collapsed in bed.
Then the Sun warmed up the honey--
it dripped twice more in a row.
Ulysses' "rosy-fingered dawn"
beheld her frown, dress, and go.
That freshly-flossed feeling
reverberates my spine
A smile wells up from deep inside
and stays there all the time.
At play I watched this cyber nymph
on Netscape and E-mail;
Her eyes flashed, fingers flying,
shaking golden ponytail.
"You're kinda slow," she grumbled,
"But I like that in a man," she grinned,
making me feel great.
My old 12 color monitor
was not enough for her;
More movies, GIFs, and videos
flew by me in a blur.
But 48 he had a trick:
while she stared at the screen
I spoke in her ear, nibbled her neck,
and adored her like a Queen.
I kissed and bit and licked and squirmed
'til wrists and spine went quiet--
The way a mouse's legs go still
when python's on his diet.
And then the honey dripped once more,
the Sun was past its rise.
I felt its rosy hug and knew
that love was in my eyes.
I asked her for her address,
she wrote with @ in code;
I said "I'm too old fashioned"
and asked for her telephone.
So when you dream, sweet 25,
tall cyber nymph of mine,
remember please old 48
who isn't past his prime.
And as the honey of the Sun
drips down into the sea
I'll recall my Cyber Nymph
and she will undelete me.
I become quite vain when around pretty girls.
And a whole flock of them makes my head whirl.
I asked one, "Do you have a disease?"
She said, "I was fine a moment ago, but NOW I wanna hurl!"
NOTE: This was based off a true story (though I exaggerated it slightly, for the sake of having it rhyme and fit with the limerick). I came into work one day and noticed one of my co-workers didn't look so hot. I was concerned and said, "Are you feeling alright today? Did you sleep well?". She just looked at me and said, "I'm quite fine, Timmy. I've actually had a full nine hours sleep... I just didn't take the time to put my make-up on this morning". Needless to say I never quite heard the end of it...
If you ask me, who are my favorite
Teachers at school –well, I’d say there are six;
All of them are good friends too, you know –they’re
Like a box of assorted chocolates!
Miss Latifa is Black American,
She’s the coolest expat teacher at school –
She’s like a basketball –fun to play with
But if it hits your head it might hurt –that’s
When she yells at you –if you break her rules.
Miss Sultana is from Oman. She is
Our friendly teacher in Geography –
Her smiles are as innocent as babies’
And when she speaks she does so like sweet flight
Attendants discussing airplane safety.
Miss Rasha is from Morocco, our tall
And pretty teacher who teaches us French
She may look like a Barbie doll but her
Class is like a movie that brings suspense
For the zeros we get are too intense…
Miss Heba is from Jordan. She teaches
Us Math in a very delightful way –
Although Math is a subject that I hate,
I enjoy all the games she’d let us play –
She’s like a cool breeze in a scorching day.
Teacher Mashaa’el, a Saudi local,
Teaches us Islam in the subject “Deen”.
She teaches as fast as a cheetah runs,
Yet her lessons are well-taught and clear –And
Speaks like she has a mike so all can hear!
Teacher ‘Aisha is Saudi-Syrian and
Is the most beautiful teacher at school!
In many ways she’s like a lioness
In terms of character and when she rules –
She hates fakes and students who act like fools.
They work together as a team of friends
Whose friendship is as tight as clips and glue
They’re loyal to Allah first and foremost
And faithfully obey all the school’s rules
They’re excellent leaders though they are few!
Note: This is a made-up poem, not based on any character in real life :)
Oh! but the jealous thing She has eyes flaming green How to quench what hell spurns Where envy and mischief does burn Revenge on her lips she's an Irish queen
Is my life not tortured enough for you to see?
I am broken as can be.
My heart is torn.
My tears stain these perfect floors.
Why are singing with glee?
Why do you not care about my every plea?
I am trapped in your arms.
I am the hopeless moth.
How did you pick me?
What is it that you see?
A girl untouched by life?
A flower blooming in the desert?
I have said goodbye to my loving integrity.
You took that from me through R-A-P-E.
On the first day of Christmas my granny gave to me, an ornament to put on the Christmas tree
On the second day of Christmas my granny gave to me, two jingle bells and an ornament to put on the Christmas tree
On the third day of Christmas my granny gave to me, three baking tins, two jingle bells and an ornament to put on the Christmas tree
On the fourth day of Christmas my granny gave to me, four Christmas cards, three baking tins, two jingle bells and an ornament to put on the Christmas tree
On the fifth day of Christmas my granny gave to me, five shining bulbs, four Christmas cards, three baking tins, two jingle bells and an ornament to put on the Christmas tree
On the sixth day of Christmas my granny gave to me, six hedge hogs and five shining bulbs, four Christmas cards, three baking tins, two jingle bells and an ornament to put on the Christmas tree
On the seventh day of Christmas my granny gave to me, seven cocks a crowing, six hedge hogs and five shining bulbs, four Christmas cards, three baking tins, two jingle bells and an ornament to put on the Christmas tree
On the eighth day of Christmas my granny gave to me, eight dogs barking, seven cocks a crowing, six hedge hogs and five shining bulbs, four Christmas cards, three baking tins, two jingle bells and an ornament to put on the Christmas tree
On the ninth day of Christmas my granny gave to me, nine women baking, eight dogs barking, seven cocks a crowing, six hedge hogs and five shining bulbs, four Christmas cards, three baking tins, two jingle bells and an ornament to put on the Christmas tree
On the tenth day of Christmas my granny gave to me, ten birds chirping, nine women baking, eight dogs barking, seven cocks a crowing, six hedge hogs and five shining bulbs, four Christmas cards, three baking tins, two jingle bells and an ornament to put on the Christmas tree
On the eleventh day of Christmas my granny gave to me, eleven bikers riding, ten birds chirping, nine women baking, eight dogs barking, seven cocks a crowing, six hedge hogs and five shining bulbs, four Christmas cards, three baking tins, two jingle bells and an ornament to put on the Christmas tree
On the twelfth day of Christmas my granny gave to me, twelve carolers singing, eleven bikers riding, ten birds chirping, nine women baking, eight dogs barking, seven cocks a crowing, six hedge hogs and five shining bulbs, four Christmas cards, three baking tins, two jingle bells and an ornament to put on the Christmas tree
Reference/ Inspiration: The twelve Days of Christmas
Don't ask me how it happened; I have no clear recollection. I have always had this brazen habit of coming right out and directly asking for whatever I want; I always figured "no!" was the only worst possible outcome, aside from a good cussing, perhaps. Either or both I can handle.
My best friend, who had invited me to this event, wasn't even a speaker; she was just present for class credit and I had nothing better to do so I happily joined her. Her professor was the director, or MC, of the night's festivities and proceedings and Jill introduced us soon after we entered the banquet hall and before the speaking commenced.
I also have this horrid habit of mentioning that I am an artist to anyone of any importance or significance whatsoever, hoping to sound gallant and impressive. I can only surmise that Jill's teacher asked me what kind of artist I was, and I must have boldly stated, with an air of haughty confidence no doubt, that I was a de facto grand poet of the ages. I was only 19 at the time and thought I was Poe! My style was sloppy and unrefined, but I didn't know it yet.
Given that this was a "Women's Studies" organization and all guest speakers that night were, obviously, going to be female, I don't know how I convinced, finagled, schemed, bulled, or mechanized my way into making myself an impromptu speaker as well that evening. It was an "anything goes" type platform, from women reading poetry to short stories, to essays or presenting artwork. I was, I kid you not, the first male to EVER be a speaker at this "Women's Studies" gathering.
Having committed many of my poems to memory, I just quickly jotted down four or five particular favorites, and when it was my time to speak, impertinently stepped right up to the platform, adjusted the microphone, and recited my horrible poetry to a group of...I'm not sure if "feminists" is quite the word for which I am searching. Let's just say that if Gloria Steinem or Gertrude Stein had been in the audience, I might have been yanked off the podium. So there I was, babbling about, having basically crashed this Feminist rally. That I wasn't mauled or had my eyes scratched out can only be attributed to luck, progressive-thinking, guardian Angels or plain ol' polite courtesy. In retrospect, I blanch at the thought of my shameless, unabashed audacity.
I would love to know whether any more males ever took part in anymore of their events, but I guess I'll never know and can only hope that little bit of history I made that night remains intact. True story.
She hails from San Antonio
In the great state of Texas
And there is something you should know:
She is not just a cowgirl
She is a walking party
She can chug drinks like Jack Daniels,
Crown Royal, Jim Beam and Bacardi
She loves the Country Music
Of Jack Ingram, Pat Green,
And the king himself George Strait
Every guy that takes one glance at her
Wants her to be their next date
They love the way she walks
In those tight Wrangler jeans and her white cowboy hat
She is an absolute fox
I wish I had the courage
To ask her out
But she is way out of my league
There is no doubt
She is so hot and Texas trouble
Victoria’s Secret Well Kept
By Elton Camp
Those pictures of sexy lingerie
Women is intended to betray
Come buy here and look like this
They imply to each passing miss
Women like those are very rare
It’s why their pictures are there
Women’s fantasies to inspire
Marketers never seem to tire
To look that sexy and cute
It puts women into pursuit
Real women whom men admire
Don’t need such garb to inspire
There’s no need to look divine
Ordinary appearance is just fine
Men look, but don’t highly rate
Such a wife would intimidate
If my wife looked like that dame
She might be hunting another name
A regular wife will surely do
For I’m ordinary looking too
If married women were painted blue
so men knew who to hit on to.
And fatter women came with numbers
so men could tease their weight than wonders.
If meaner women wore bright socks
so men could save themselves hard knocks.
And stupid women's shirts had stripes
that dumb old men could find their types.
If all these wonders became true.
The day when women paint themselves blue.
Women over fifty
need to have a mammogram yearly,
It is an important test
that involves squeezing a woman's breast.
It is for cancer screening
but leaves some women really screaming,
Place your breast on machine which
clamps down on it like a fish sandwich.
Then it's tender to the touch
not many women like this too much,
I do believe it's a man
who invented this type of torture plan.
Why don't they screen men this way
put their member on this thing I say,
Then prostate cancer will flee
I'm just laughing at this imagery!
He was getting old- but he wasn’t cold
He still had that fire burning deep within
And the urge to commit that adulteress sin.
A sub conscious thought to prove that he
Was still the man from many years ago
Because on his face it didn’t show.
When comments are made about
How good he looks for his age
That’s when he’ll climb on stage.
The ego is the downfall of every man
And to prove himself, he’ll take a stand.
How foolish can we men be
And it’s shown throughout history.
Men will always fall under a woman s spell
From that point on, he goes to hell.
Cleopatra queen of the Nile- Sampson and Delilah
Helen of troy-just to name a few
Took down these men, and knew exactly what to do.
When it comes to women “ we are weak”
The sexual fulfillment is what we seek.
Once the sexual desire is satisfied
The man will try to say good-bye.
But he’ll be pulled back into that web of sin
And on the women s face- there is a grin.
It started off when Eve ate the forbidden fruit
And convinced Adam to eat it too.
It has gone on till this present day
What else can I say.
Now these celebrities are in the news
It is not something that they would choose.
Men are building their own web
And when the spider comes “ they are dead”.
Ha-ha- ha- you’ve got to love it!