Before I lay me down to sleep,
I pray for a man who’s not a creep,
One who’s handsome, smart and strong.
One who loves to listen long,
One who thinks before he speaks,
One who’ll call, not wait for weeks.
I pray he’s rich and self-employed,
And when I spend, won’t be annoyed.
Pull out my chair and hold my hand.
Massage my feet and help me stand.
Oh send a king to make me queen.
A man who loves to cook and clean.
I pray this man will love no other.
And relish visits with my mother.
A MAN’S POEM:
I pray for a deaf-mute gymnast nymphomaniac with big tits who owns a bar on a golf course, and loves to send me fishing and drinking. This doesn’t rhyme and I don’t give a shit.
Just a minute with you,
Feels like an hour,
Moving fast on you now,
Now get on all four!!
A Woman’s Poem
He didn’t like the curry
And he didn’t like my cake
He said my biscuits were too hard…
Not like his mother used to make.
I didn’t prepare the coffee right
He didn’t like the stew,
I didn’t mend his socks
The way his mother used to do.
I pondered for an answer
I was looking for a clue.
Isn’t there anything I could do
To match his mothers shoe
Then I smiled as I saw light
One thing I could definitely do
I turned around and slapped him tight…
Like his mother used to!!!!!
Because I could not fix my Ford,
I bought a Subaru.
My Pinto leaked just too much oil
And braking fluid too.
Everywhere my Pinto drove,
Emitting blackened fumes,
It choked dogs, old ladies too,
And fragrant springtime blooms.
It drank tons — a quart of oil —
Every week, a new one.
I was poor, and so repairs
Were given with a glue gun.
I drove it hard until it failed,
A junk-heap at the curb.
If ‘garbage’ could have been its noun,
‘Failure’ would be its verb.
And thus I bought a Subaru
And it has yet to fail me.
If ever you owned a bad Ford too,
I hope that you’ll e-mail me.