Long Gigolo Poems
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They wanted me to do this - 'Do you mind if I watch?'
I said: 'No' - as a seasoned pro, it was nothing,
someone said to me: 'How can you make love
when you don't love them?' That was my job.
Of course, it may not be a thing of beauty,
supposing that I didn't satisfy them, rarely,
if so, I still had to be paid for the haircut,
mission accomplished, did my best - that was my job.
'Aren't you ashamed of all the things you do?
Do you satisfy yourself as well or hold off?
I did what I had to do - there was no guarantee,
to the best of my ability - that was my job.
'What about your own love life?' 'That's different -
he doesn't expect the same service, when I come home.'
Sugar Mama
I need a sugar mama
someone to take care of me
let me drink in the bar
drive her Porsche car
watch her big screen TV
when my pockets don't jingle
She'll always spot me a couple of bucks
She'll never ask where I been
and when I do come in
she can always count on my love
as long as her checks don't bounce
she doesn't have to be pretty
Beauty is nothing money can't buy
I can picture me in her Jacuzzi
living the easy life
Say I'm fool for money
I've been a bigger “Fool For Love”
Why should I give it away
when I can make it pay
and enjoy working overtime
Not worried about nickels and dimes
I need me a sugar momma
to take me under her Wing
I'll kiss her hand
I'll say yes ma'am
I won't curse in front of her friends
We'll vacation down in Barbados
getting suntanned on her yacht
with a beer in my hand
I'll think of my friends
and everything they ain't got
We’ll be happy believe it or not
Sugar mama
I'll do just what I'm told
Sugar Mama
I'll be your country boy gigolo
I'll throw away my boots and jeans
Shave and wear a Tuxedo.
even learn the Tango
and teach you how to Cotton Eye Joe
Sugar Mama take me home.
©2017
He gave me a wink, trying to flirt with my heart
and his box of chocolates looked simply divine
He smiled like Cupid had hit him with a dart
Then he asked me, "Darlin,' will you be mine?"
I looked deep into his honeyed brown eyes
and smiled back, saying, "Not a chance, Romeo."
You don't fool me. I recognize your cheesy lies.
I heard you like sweet talkin' other girls, Gigolo."
"I'd like to tell you where to shove this candy.
If you think I'd trust a womanizer, you're stupid.
You're pathetic when you act macho and randy.
I'd like to shoot an arrow at the butt of Cupid."
BLANKETY BLANK BLANK BLANK
Blankety blankety blank blank blank
Blankety blank blank blank
So how do like my quatrain so far
Getting pretty low in the tank
To resort to this ridiculous bit of nonsense
Pretty damn desperate I'd say
You can fool some people some of the time
But never P-Souper each day
When juices stop flowing Soupers know right away
They can spot it right off the bat
Obviously when I start that blankety blank stuff
Instead of love and all that
Maybe I should take some word rhyming pills
But they're so damn expensive these days
Two thousand dollars for just twenty-five pills
Need a job as a gigolo to pay
Well I'm gonna end this blankety blank poem
Threw in a bit of smut ha ha
Got by the censors with that blankety blank stuff
They're freaking out, sure good for a laugh
© Jack Ellison 2013
Everybody knows him as Alessandro,
the handsome gigolo of Via Veneto,
and his lucky charms he sells to many a gorgeous lady,
he approaches them and says,
" Mademoiselle, parle vous Francais?"
as he struggles with words, she replies,"Oui"
And he continues with a perfect accent, "Je t'ame!"
shocked by the womaniser, the slender French young woman
looks at him and starts to laugh with an entertaining wit;
but the gigolo insists, " Tu es tres belle!"
And the petite mademoiselle exclaims," Merci!"
How can his sexiness win him this French woman?
"Vouz habite a' Paris?" and smiling she nods
" Oui...a' Paris, a' Belleville..un quartier de Paris!"
and the gigolo continues, " Un bel androit!"
" Beau garcon,, est-ce que La Fontana di Trevi...
est loin dici? And Alessandro excitedly replied,"
" Ce ne'st pas loin!"... and with a sign laguage,
he pointed to his red Ferrari, ready to steal her away!
Copyright 2010 by Andrew Crisci
Translation:
Mademoiselle, parle vous Francais?"/ Young lady, do you speak French?
Tu es tres belle/ You are beautiful
Vouz habite a' Paris?/ Do you live in Paris?
Qui...a' Paris, a' Belleville...un quartier de Paris!/
Here...in Paris, in Belleville...a quarter in Paris!/
Un bel androit!/ A beautiful place
Beau garcon, est-ce que La Fontana di Trevi...est loin dici?/
Pretty boy, where's the Trevi Fountain...is it far?
Ce ne'st pas loin/ not too far
Blankety blankety blank blank blank
Blankety blank blank blank
So how do like my poem so far
Getting pretty low in the tank
To resort to this ridiculous bit of nonsense
Must be pretty damn desperate I'd say
You can fool some people some of the time
But never you friendlies each day
When juices stop flowing you guys know right away
One can spot it right off the bat
Obviously when I start that blankety blank stuff
Instead of love and all of that
Maybe I should take some word rhyming pills
But they're so damn expensive these days
Two thousand dollars for just twenty-five pills
Need a job as a gigolo to pay
Well I'm gonna end this blankety blank poem
Threw in a bit of smut ha ha
Got by the censors with that blankety blank stuff
They're freaking out, sure good for a laugh
Old Zack Adams sits a slouch’n so sloppy drunk on a bar-room stool,
Wear’n his cheap-threaded cowboy suit and a stained satin shirt.
All the while a peek’n and a leer’n at women like an old poor fool,
But think’n man tonight—Oh Boy, I’m really gonna hit the pay dirt!
Old Zack in this small Texas town is reputed to be quite a lecherous hoot,
As he raucously and recklessly rolls old worn quarters into the slot
Of the old bar-room Wurlitzer while snicker’n and smil’n to boot,
And plays his tearful and twangy jerk-water music while smil’n a lot!
Old Zack is this town’s “Jukebox Gigolo,” a real lover boy—Oh Boy!
He wears his patched cowboy hat and his scuffed silver-studded boots,
Meant to impress young girls and bar-fly floozies who have the Joy!
Of being with this bewildering, withered, weathered man and his boots.
Old Zack has a fad’n recollection of events and a silver mane of hair,
With a cigarette in his hand and cuss’n like a nasty little stable boy,
He downs whiskey shots and tequila seconds like no tomorrow on a dare,
While chas’n whiskey glass ice cubes and the tequila worm—being so coy.
Old Zack while a swigg’n down his whiskey mucho fast and direct,
He has now that blind courage to fight or to love—whichever is first,
While the old Wurlitzer resonates a rueful hick song for a teary effect,
But Old Zack can’t move now for this song has him sobb’n the very worst.
Old Zack with his nicotine-whiskey breath and his pockmarked face,
Personifies the image of an ideal loser of a man—with problems all,
While fight’n, scream’n, and punch’n others to gain some precious space,
He’s a showcas’n his reservoir of manly prowess—with problems all.
Old Zack was young once and not so wild, withered, weathered like now,
And he thought he was a really smart dude—all right moves and all,
But was really a man act’n far above his funny fake smart brow,
And now a cry’n on his bar-room stool and act’n like a fool before a fall.
Old Zack Adams—alcoholic as he truly is and sly and slick as a Texas fox,
Is not really so good with his women friends nowadays—for his real talent
Is in roll’n those old worn quarters pieces one-by-one into the old Jukebox,
Sing’n—“I’m the Jukebox Gigolo”—“a Drunk and a Delight,” that’s real talent!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved (October 7, 2014)
(Rhymed Quatrain)
How to describe love, well I'll give it a shot
Like your first two wheeler, that's saying a lot
Like your very first ride on a ferris wheel
What an absolute thrill can't believe it's real
Suddenly that annoying girl next door
Creates a stirring right down to your core
When wrestling with her she was one of the guys
Now its different when you look in her eyes
Her lips seem more lush and inviting now
Think I just blew a gasket, holy cow
Oh those were the days as if it was yesterday
The feeling still there but it's now just wordplay
Maybe I'll come back when my days are done
As a gigolo, yee haw, that sure sounds like fun!
© Jack Ellison 2013
Ahhhh...they make me so mad:
A fool, a buffoon, an unruly lad,
A prankster, a trickster, a tattler,
A gigolo, a lounger and an idler;
An impostor, a pretender and a loafer,
A party crasher, a tailgater and a golfer,
A boondoggle or a task of a tall order,
And the deals done under-the-counter.
I often tear my hair out at a silly pun
Or at a smart aleck who can outrun,
A hoax or a scam drives me crazy
that is absurd, witless or sleazy.
But look into my eyes lovingly
And whisper sweet nothing softly,
Hold my hands and be pretty sexy,
And oh...Man, I'll just go crazy!
I'm so annoyed contest by Mary Oliver Rotman
Blankety blank blank blank
Blankety blank blank blank
So how do like my quatrain so far
Getting pretty low in the tank
To resort to this ridiculous bit of nonsense
Must be pretty damn desperate I'd say
You can fool some people some of the time
But never you friendlies each day
When juices stop flowing you'll know right away
One can spot it right off the bat
Obviously when I start that blankety blank stuff
Instead of love and all of that
Maybe I should take some word rhyming pills
But they're so damn expensive these days
Two thousand dollars for just twenty-five pills
Need a job as a gigolo to pay
Well I'm gonna end this blankety blank poem
Threw in a bit of smut ha ha
Got by the censors with that blankety blank stuff
They're freaking out, sure good for a laugh
(A Repost)