Blowing the dust off our individuality Making sure our hands have the proper grip Clutching the pen to jot a delicate ode Black coffee; bold inscriptions with each sip
Once awake, I turn to the written word Exacting the notes conjured; never by rote Lost with the margins of a fool’s errand I’m quiet, but compassion might just be the antidote
Wet Sunday mornings Grass still damp from the rain Fresh air still cool to the touch Rising without a hint of pain
Voluptuary visions upon a treasured bond Hoping we might become bosom buddies Remotely fond of the Bon Vivant’s taste When I proposed to you in the study
My parochial quips; unacceptable in polite society Profane & unprintable odes to her formidable posterior Writing what catches my mind’s eye I can’t help it if my motives might be ulterior
Vice & folly are complimentary rectitudes But please stop staring at the lady’s chest There’s only so much to explain away & no one cares the origin of your Preppy crest
Tell me what constitutes good head With my mind clinging to her curves These dreams; had their own Silicone Valley Yet, when she speaks I’m a pile of nerves
Boxing Day is the day for cunninglingus Cauliflower ear from her thighs Witnessing nature’s perfect curvature Nonperishable lust eschews the dandy’s lie
Vanity is fundamentally unstable Draping you in silks & laces so gaudy New souls full of an easy virtue Just know, how badly I want your bawdy
Plastering the interweb with fragmented thought
Cultivating an insane kind of fame
Convincing an illiterate society
That you’re more than just a silly name
Penning out frivolously piddly odes
Basking in the lack of their attention span
Trying so hard to be cool, plus
Your slams make me not want to give a damn
The barely legible equivalent of an Insta-model
Don’t you know, writers write & speakers squeak
A farce played out in bits & bytes
Preying on the vapid, the stupid & the weak
You’ve grown your hipster beard
You fancy yourself as suave & dapper
But I know your dirty little secret
That you’re no PaRappa the Rapper
Hanging with beach bums & bashful babes Swimming in the surf on late Spring days Colorful flavors poured gently over ice Skin glowing after hours in the pleasant rays
I thought I saw a Sea Hag along the sand Though she revealed herself to be a Siren Coaxing & teasing me with her demure allure Whispering that I might be a modern Lord Byron
Uncomfortable with compliments of any sort I quietly pull out my pen to jot down an ode Her eyes grow wide, then a smirk & a wink Simultaneously my mind, heart & loins explode