When a big hairy spider
Came and plopped down beside her
As Miss Muffett sat munchin'
A light, healthy luncheon,
She screamed, "Sir, naught could be ruder
Than an arachnid intruder!",
And proceeded to prove the mistake he had made.
'neath a teacup she trapped him,
With a teaspoon she tapped him,
And then lethally zapped him
With a snootfull of Raid.
You may ask why'd a maid
Go ballistic that way.
Well, that's something this nursery rhyme
Never would say.
As the tale I've revamped,
I'd opine she was "cramped"
And in no mood for sharing with strangers that day.
Or, more likely,
Although this may sound quite absurd,
She'd not abide spider turds
In her curds and whey.
PMS..
1.IF YOU SUSPECT ITS APPROACH ING THAT TIME OF MONTH, WORK DONE 5.30 MEK SURE YOU AT HOME 5.45..
2.MAKE SURE YOU WALK THROUGH THAT DOOR WITH ICE CREAM..OR CHOCOLATE,OR ANYTHING SWEET.
3.TEST WATER BY ASKING HOW WAS YOUR DAY DARLING? WIT A SMILE
4.RUB FEET WITHOUT BEING ASKED..DO IT WITH A SMILE..
5.SPOON FEED ICE CREAM, BUT PREPARE FOR HER TANTRUM..
6.RUB SHOULDERS
7.PUT PHONE ON SILENT..
8.REMOVE ALL FLYING OBJECTS FROM HER REACH.
.PLATES,KNIVES,PHONES ETC.
9.BEFORE GOING TO BED ,MAKE SURE HER SIDE IS NICE AND COOL AND COMFY..
10.GENTLEMEN DON'T EVEN MENTION THE WORD SEX..CAN BE DETRIMENTAL TO YOUR HEALTH .MAY HAVE TO SLEEP ON VERANDAH ..
DID I MISS ANYTHING..?
sexual desire
frustration
anger
mixed emotions
running together
like two toned candles and wax
I need not
these whoremoans
nor this
baby baking box
nor does my lover
need me flopping
like a flounder
on the docks
It's not that men are totally blind
It's just that we can't see most of the time
Focusing mainly on I, me and don't forget mine
In our mess of a head it's so hard to find
What it is that women really do want
With all of the does along with all of the dont's
Maybe what we really need is a special font
To help us clueless men move right along
In the right direction so we don't have to guess
Then life wouldn't be such a crazy mess
You'd get much more out of us than much more of less
Avoiding much of the misery of your P.M.S.
Now that I being a real man have brought it up
Spilling the wine out of the loving cup
Haven't you heard that idea raised way to much
From most of us men that don't know enough
Well I want you to know that your not alone
P.M.S. once inside tends to grow and grow
Just try your best to let it go
Because...
P.M.S. for those not in the know
Is short for Pre Murder Syndrome
Dear Mrs. PMS,
I'm so glad that you only visit once a month
Because you are truly a Royal Pain in the A**
You turn my woman into the Incredible Hulk
I Mean Literally
Man, when she gets mad I get mad
And I really don't like her when she gets mad
The tone her of voice change
Her pretty smiles
Turns into frowns
And let's not talk about sex
Baby......
Because there's no
If, ands, buts, or maybes
I mean even spooning when you're around
Might be kinda crazy
You remind me of that Michael Jackson
Song 'You Just Wanna Be Starting Something'
And as long as you're around
I won't be getting nothing
But treated cold as ice
And I better not say one word
Because she packs a powerful punch
Like Kimbo Slice
Before your a** showed up she was nice
And NOW
She like the man of the relationship
And I'm her Bi***
I'll be glad when you leave Mrs PMS
You Nasty son of a B****!
A PMS Moment (please. make. sense.)
A motionless story sometimes bends me back.
I have to start from the beginning and retrack.
Why can’t it just be simple and kind?
All these negative thoughts, I know they aren’t mine.
So I take these pills and I drink this drink.
Whatever it does to me… it still doesn’t sink.
In--- sink in, please, God!
Let me know I am still human,
Let me be abroad from this state.
Relapse, climb, relapse, climb.
I’m like falling down the mountain every time.
I thought I was special, maybe I still do.
I thought my love was real, maybe it’s real to who?
Myself is my only critic?
The one who writes this to feel free from being pathetic?
Oh, Ah, no ****** in my way.
I have done so wrong that the blood spears into a distance daze.
My functions, called life, pat me on the back.
But the truth is, my story just motioned me back…
To the pad that says, this is who I am today.
I may slap you, curse you, smack you
Don’t get too serious honey, its monthly fun
I am PMS ing and my trauma is true
Be my gentleman and Pass My Shotgun
I may hate your friends and knock them down
Be any handsome man or cute chick
Don’t get them here when I am around
I am PMS ing, People Make me Sick
I may laugh out loud at your silly jokes
And the very next moment won’t find them funny
That catastrophic emotional trauma pokes
I am PMS ing, its Psychotic Mood Shift honey
Every month, within me I sense this ruinous storm
It’s not me honey, this phantom is Premenstrual Syndrome
Somebody please help me, I'm in great distress.
My wife is having her period and she has PMS.
One time she grabbed a television set and hit me in the head.
When I came out of my coma, I was amazed that I wasn't dead.
She goes on rampages and she screams and shouts.
I told her to shut up and she nearly scratched my eyes out.
This time of the month causes great stress.
Somebody please help me, she has PMS.
Women complain about premenstrual syndrome,
but I think of it as the only time of the month that they let their true selves be known.
Taste these tears
Before you say you know...
Kiss me softly
Before you get up to go...
You are unaware
That I am drowning
Before the flood,
Emotionally and physically,
Without a drop of blood.
It’s that time of month again
Everyone scrambling and afraid
Scattering numerous footsteps
Like pouring down summer rain
Walking terrified on eggshells
Away they do turn
Finding a much safer haven
From past experience they’ve learned
Boarding themselves in their rooms
Their doors closed and securely locked
Hoping they have enough nourishment
Plenty of food and water has been stocked
Mom is not her usual self again
A week of hiding we can surely do
Waiting for the symptoms to dissipate
For positive signs of a newly debut
© Stacy Lynn Stiles
The day will come when you are just a distant memory
One that I will have to concentrate long & hard to remember...
Your face will be a shadow
The memory of your touch, kiss, taste, feel, voice, scent will be intangible,
impalpable, unable to invoke the intensity with which I still carry you in my
thoughts 'n' dreams
The day will come when the mere sight of you will have no effect whatsoever on
my
equilibrium
When my body will no longer become tense by your nearness
When my mind, body, 'n' soul will react nonchalantly to your situation, your
appearance, your happiness, or lack thereof
And I will be in control 'n' cured of
your infection 'n' affliction
Actually...after almost a year of our official break-up
I am no farther away from you emotionally than the day that I first fell in love with
you
Isn't that pathetic?
Obsessive compulsive even?
Alas!! What to do?
I always feel this way
After seeing you
During P. M. S.
Wriiten: 05/02/2006
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