I am a philosopher
Of great mental acumen
I like to blow my own trumpet
As nobody seems to mention
While enlightening people
Of all hues, I think not twice
Morning to noon and noon to night
I love when people seek advice
Questions myriad on one's
life, future, and future wife
If their foreseen future is bad
Will better halves manage their life
Questions keep getting sillier
Till they get nonsensical
My thoughts are philosophical
But my answers turn whimsical
I love work, people love me
Results don't count, it's a game
All goes well the credit is mine
Nothing goes well, they get the blame
It's late gotta close my shop
Need food and a good night's sleep
'Morrow will be a busy day
So expect not I will come cheap
fate
crushes us
like
fatuous bugs
in
fatal rugs
Living isolated in the shadow of defeat,
piece by piece I place the pieces,
giving up mates then weed I had to beat,
released from deceit so nothing reaches,
driven ungraciously weak in my retreat,
teased by grief from fallacious impeaches,
drifting at pace injudiciously indiscreet,
displeasing unabated fatuous speeches
* i was going to call this my struggle, but then i remembered Hitler wrote something called "mein Kampf" which when translated becomes "my struggle". lol
I have a cupid, all my own, he’s not the best around
I would have chucked him long ago … but he’s the only one I’ve found
His wings look like two dusters that have hung around too long
The feathers have no luster and the way they flap’s … just wrong
His actions are too stilted and his apathy seems vast
His bow is slightly wilted and his arrows are … half-fast
In many years of wishing that one missile might strike home
I had a premonition I would spend my life … alone
But then one day (as if on cue) an arrow slipped his bow
By accident it stuck in you above the left elbow
Well, that was all I needed I no longer was afraid
For my prospects now exceeded every prayer I ever made
I grasped the moment promptly just in case it slipped away
As my future fait accompli stood before me on that day
Now my Cupid keeps a quiver though his shafts are all but spent
Still I’m glad he could deliver even if by accident
And I won’t complain too loudly for the grief he put me through
I’ll just smile and thank him proudly for the wonderment … of you
Segregated by your callous posture
Serenaded by your soft, sensual voice
Seduced by your feminine mystique
Subdued by the fragrant aroma of your silky skin
Sheltered by your caressing stare
Shackled to your warm embrace
Surrendering to your beckoning bosom
Repulsed by your recoiling movements
Enraptured with each panting breath
Impounded by your entreating distress
Freed to enter your throbbing estate
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