His wife said, you’re too
Nice to people, too
**** nice, you ought to
Be like Rocky; he
Don’t take no **** from
People, he tells them
Where to get off and
Is down their throats far
Quicker than they can
Say, boo boo, but you,
You’re just too nice, you
Even open doors
For dames and give them
The big friendly smile,
And give them the bright
Eyed sparkle. He let
His wife’s words float on
By like butterflies,
Focussed on the art,
His word management,
Giving form to his
Notions, painting out
Scenes, putting plots to
New ideas, and for
Another thing, his
Wife added, what’s with
The dame in the ****
Photos everywhere?
Who’s she? In the frame
By the bed, on your
Cell phone, tucked away
In your pocket book?
Are you some kind of
Religious fruit? He
Looked at his wife (she
Was a looker, had
A nice face and cute
*** and watched her mouth
Move, saw her tongue, like
Some small snake go in
And out and how fine
Her eyes were in the
Morning sun, how they
Shone some, and he said,
You know, your mouth moves
Quite prettily, your
Lips, they’re like parting
Thighs and how I just
Love the way your head
Tilts slightly to one
Side just like some odd
Inquisitive bird,
And by the way, the
Dame in the photos
Is St Therese, and
She’s just there to bring
Me comfort and to
Remind me how pure
And heaven sent a
Woman can be and
That there is more to
Women than meets the
Eye, but his wife stood
And shook her head, and
Not another word
By his wife was said.
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 2:13 PM UTC
His wife said, you’re too
Nice to people, too
**** nice, you ought to
Be like Rocky; he
Don’t take no **** from
People, he tells them
Where to get off and
Is down their throats far
Quicker than they can
Say, boo boo, but you,
You’re just too nice, you
Even open doors
For dames and give them
The big friendly smile,
And give them the bright
Eyed sparkle. He let
His wife’s words float on
By like butterflies,
Focussed on the art,
His word management,
Giving form to his
Notions, painting out
Scenes, putting plots to
New ideas, and for
Another thing, his
Wife added, what’s with
The dame in the ****
Photos everywhere?
Who’s she? In the frame
By the bed, on your
Cell phone, tucked away
In your pocket book?
Are you some kind of
Religious fruit? He
Looked at his wife (she
Was a looker, had
A nice face and cute
*** and watched her mouth
Move, saw her tongue, like
Some small snake go in
And out and how fine
Her eyes were in the
Morning sun, how they
Shone some, and he said,
You know, your mouth moves
Quite prettily, your
Lips, they’re like parting
Thighs and how I just
Love the way your head
Tilts slightly to one
Side just like some odd
Inquisitive bird,
And by the way, the
Dame in the photos
Is St Therese, and
She’s just there to bring
Me comfort and to
Remind me how pure
And heaven sent a
Woman can be and
That there is more to
Women than meets the
Eye, but his wife stood
And shook her head, and
Not another word
By his wife was said.
2010 POEM.
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