Do snakes have sex problems, too?
You ssssssliver through the mud 'n' marshy glades
through summer's heat, through Autumn's Fallen leaves,
reborn through budding Spring's resplendent blades
through verdant leas whence dying Winter grieves.
You sssssidle silent esses tracked on footless course
through sun-baked brush through bushes' leafy shawl
a sssssliding color rapture wringing force
though deaf, your eyes and tongue, make up for all.
Your eyes though sharp as flailing tongue seem sad
Your glinting fangs and open mouth say more
as if some unknown pangs have made you mad
the source unknown: I seek with you, rapport.
You speak of Sally Scaley
and your tale of woe
your choice of all no matter
what the others state;
you twine yourselves together
in love all set to go.
But, nothing seems to come of it,
a failure as a mate.
You show me all the moves you made
to make your love success
explained what Vicky Viper said
exactly, more or less.
She got you all excited, till,
the time had come to act.
You lay there deadly quiet, still,
She left you. That's a fact.
And Angel Asp was worse than this
and told you more than oft
because each time of hit or miss
you came up short and soft.
She rubbed on you some Vigorall,
to liven up the shaft.
But, just like with that jelly ball,
you turned to her and laughed.
But worst of all, when serious,
you got your diamond back,
and that did more than rattle you
to accent what you lack.
So, now, at length you come to me
to ask some sound advice.
I stretch you out in length to see
the problem, short, concise.
My observations all are made,
solutions seem remote.
The problems lie not with the maid,
by symptoms that I note.
You hiss your hiss-tory, to me
perceived malfunctioning:
I whisper that it still may be
e-reptile dysfunctioning.
Poetry by NotaDeadPoet
Read 495 times
Written on 2007-02-24 at 22:12
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Ode to a Saddened Snake
You ssssssliver through the mud 'n' marshy glades
through summer's heat, through Autumn's Fallen leaves,
reborn through budding Spring's resplendent blades
through verdant leas whence dying Winter grieves.
You sssssidle silent esses tracked on footless course
through sun-baked brush through bushes' leafy shawl
a sssssliding color rapture wringing force
though deaf, your eyes and tongue, make up for all.
Your eyes though sharp as flailing tongue seem sad
Your glinting fangs and open mouth say more
as if some unknown pangs have made you mad
the source unknown: I seek with you, rapport.
You speak of Sally Scaley
and your tale of woe
your choice of all no matter
what the others state;
you twine yourselves together
in love all set to go.
But, nothing seems to come of it,
a failure as a mate.
You show me all the moves you made
to make your love success
explained what Vicky Viper said
exactly, more or less.
She got you all excited, till,
the time had come to act.
You lay there deadly quiet, still,
She left you. That's a fact.
And Angel Asp was worse than this
and told you more than oft
because each time of hit or miss
you came up short and soft.
She rubbed on you some Vigorall,
to liven up the shaft.
But, just like with that jelly ball,
you turned to her and laughed.
But worst of all, when serious,
you got your diamond back,
and that did more than rattle you
to accent what you lack.
So, now, at length you come to me
to ask some sound advice.
I stretch you out in length to see
the problem, short, concise.
My observations all are made,
solutions seem remote.
The problems lie not with the maid,
by symptoms that I note.
You hiss your hiss-tory, to me
perceived malfunctioning:
I whisper that it still may be
e-reptile dysfunctioning.
Poetry by NotaDeadPoet
Read 495 times
Written on 2007-02-24 at 22:12
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
