Why when we ask someone their orientation,
Why do we look down on bisexuals?
we see their attraction to both genders as a negative,
When we should be free to be and love whoever we choose,
Without this bi hatred dragging us down,
It's unfair and downright ugly,
To assume the chances of someone cheating is higher if they're bi,
No a loving, commited bi person is not bound to cheat
Oh there's more people to cheat with if they like both genders.
If they're commited to their partner that should be enough.
No, they're still trying to figure themselves out, it's a phase.
Give them a break, ****** orientation and attraction is fluid.
It can't be guessed or pigeon holed into one category.
Just choose already,
Like hell will I choose because you tell me to,
I'll choose when I fall in love.
Be that with a man or woman.

There once was a lad from Mould,
Who always did what he was told,
He always ate brown sauce with his lunch,
And never went to any parties,
Or drank alcoholic punch.

He never rebelled,
His socks never smelled,
He wore pink socks to class,
And always farted in mass.

I have no chat,
And that really is that,
No messages to ponder,
No hills to wander.
It's a shame I have no chat.

There's a party on the hill,
Yet my heart yearns for more still,
Is it an eclipse? Should we have a barbecue,
What about Stonehenge? That's one hell of a view,

Take some alcoholic drinks,
We'll have a great time me thinks,
Have a laugh, make some friends,
The laughter never ends.

In this mundane, robotic world,
We need flights of fancy,
To mull over with mulled wine,
Some vivid flights of fancy.
Clubbing, on the dance floor,
Oh that would be great

'Dance to the beat of my heart, my dear,
And we shall travel a thousand miles without taking a step,
Embrace me as you have a hundred times before and feel like the first'
The couple swayed.

The moonlight bathing raven locks and auburn tresses.
The scent of perfume and the dancing dresses,
I am yours and you are mine,
Oh my Lord! you smell divine.

Her hands roamed the voluptuous curves,
******* the fork where the mind swerves,
Into amorous thoughts and soft caresses.

Thoughts of crumpled clothing,
Strewn on the wooden floor,
Whispering "my love, only you do I adore"
A meeting of minds and mouths,
Sleepily they entwine hearts,
Bodies follow,
Words are laden full with desire,
Never hollow.

The day spins wildly as I once again think,
I must get my ducks in a row,
The words flow through my fingertips as I dash another line out,
Poetry, endless poetry,
But I haven't gotten my ducks in a row.

The ducks...a fulfilling job,
The perfect girlfriend and body,
I want no love handles in sight,
And that would be more than alright.

No unsightly veins, no rippling skin,
All I want is just to be average to thin,
The scale, my old nemesis,
Still reads fifteen stone,
I moan.