. . .mention the hearing ears on my heart,
the stars between my thighs (I'm such a tart),
Compare your charms to Rod McKuen's
or call my drivel art.

. . .call your penis Mr. White Spit
or give a pet name to my own clit
(though I rather like
" Anastasia the magic love button"
'cause I'm inane and full of shit.)

. . mention my forgotten spouse
who pays for the house
and the internet connection
to diddle your mouse.

So whack me to Adelaide
and you'll have it made.
Mix me like a metaphor
and I'll always be your cyberwhore.

Fragrant Pussy

So furry
and full of love,
if you were a rose,
I would sniff you
all day!

ALL day!

Meow and meow
words of love
that mean something.
I purr the lust
I cannot speak
or my eyes would leak
the love I had for you.

So furry
and full of love,
if you were a rose,
I would sniff you
all day!

ALL day!

Oh, Muse! Make me
as good as the fastest car
on race day!

Fuel me with magic words
before my soul breaks down
and my tears fill gas tanks.

Send me a verse
in praise of him
who makes my engine hum.

Oh, Muse!  Come soon

She slithered across the screen,, oozing her venom,
Her body was tingling with unrelieved spite
Awaiting her pleasure were the hungry and desperate
Lapping her excrement as she was proved right

Guide us oh Goddess, author of poetry
Write me a new verse filled with your gall
Show me the right way, the true way , the best way
This way we'll follow your misguided falls

You are the true word to be undisputed
For surely your poems speak for themselves
Your wisdom and grace are richly reputed
If only hailed loudest by those like yourself

She slithered away full of smug loathing
gathered a novel of posts that she'd saved
nobody will notice the smallest of edits
like content, description, contexts and names

With laughter they sniggered at her great epistle
Corrected the grammar of her mighty pen
showed her the door with hasty dismissal
So she went back to writing for dirty old men

Song of the Happy Critic

We're oh so vicious
So malicious
Little people
Are delicious
When their work is
meretricious;
And we're demeaning
While we're screening
Poems that deserve
A beaning!

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