Today's poems [10.9.10]
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Copyright; Robyn Scott
From her book 'It's Just a Matter of Perspective'
SEX is a TRANSACTION,
With emotional currency,
You're either lucky or an arsehole,
If you're getting it for free,
Some are prepared to barter flesh,
For company or affection,
A house, a car, a family,
Money or protection,
When morality is attached to
Guilt can reduce the pleasure,
Whereby with uninhibited
Comes ecstasy without measure.
There are those whom believe that, SEX is just for procreation,
While there are others for whom it is, Their favourite recreation,
There are people who only have,
SEX over the phone,
And others who are happy,
To do it on their own,
There are some who really get off,
On lingerie and leather,
And those who simply prefer,
To masturbate together.
Advice in Abundance
Unsolicited advice free and abundant:
So much of it there its often redundant.
When I was a lad and easily impressed:
I listened and nodded at the experts' behest.
Opinions they flaunted on a scale universal:
Expounding at length without forethought or rehearsal.
With style and emotion, each made a case:
Of factual content there was rarely a trace.
Middle age found me as the consummate cynic:
Quick to retort and given to mimic.
With the passage of time I relaxed my position:
Improvised wisdom doesn't require a logician.
In the twilight of life there is time for a chat:
I now render advice at the drop of a hat.
Mirror, mirror on the bathroom wall,
My image therein is much too small.
Once I was handsome with wavy curls,
I was even the envy of some of the girls.
Now it seems a midget has taken my place,
You have given me a different ugly face.
Not much left of my curly head of hair,
I am sure that you decidedly do not care.
You know it is not fair at all,
That makes a man like me look fat and small.
I think that I shall sell the mirror on the wall,
The face therein is not like me at all.
Copyright; Bernard Shaw
(To the tune of 'Yesterday')
Leprocy, bits and pieces falling off of me,
I'm not half the man I used to be,
Oh I contracted Leprocy.
Over the lips, and down the throat,
May you never wake up, next to a goat.
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