I’m writing you this poem ’cause I saw you when you parked.
My inner man could not believe my sight.
I haven’t even heard your voice and yet I felt a spark.
Fate says we get together for a night.

I want to strip you naked I want you to give me head.
I want to fuck repeatedly till morning.
And though I’ll take you savagely and own you in my bed.
I won’t cum on your face without a warning.

We needn’t know each others names, I don’t care if you’re taken.
Just one night of me using you so sweetly.
I’ll leave your little legs like jello that won’t stop from shakin’
And you can be a little slut discretely.

I didn’t want to creep you out and walk right up to you.
I know a lot about how girls think.
I’m honest and direct and trust that you’ll know what to do.
Just call me up and ask me for a drink.

Homeless man, where do you go when it rains?
Is your rain poncho flame proof?
Can you still smoke cocaine?

Can you still block my path without slipping and falling?
Can you still pee outside?
How much rain prevents crawling?

Does the rain wash your body of feces and sweat?
Does it dampen the smell?
Do your clothes sprout when wet?

Please tell us, dear homeless man, how goes the rain?
Does it bother the man
who’s completely insane?

Rock that thong, bitches, it’s all that you need.
(Unless you use big pads the week that you bleed.)
Stop buying that shit that comes three to a pack
You’re a grown up so rock that thong – show us some back.

You don’t have to put out, rock that thong while you wait.
You’ll meet lots of nice boys and have lots of fun dates.
Thongs cover the best part, so don’t be so nervous.
Just rock that thong, bitches, it’s a fine public service!

Rock that thong, skinny bitch – show me some bone
I can pull it aside when I get you back home.
Fat bitches rock it too – show us some rear.
You know you’re a fat bitch if the thong disappears.

Rock that thong MILF bitches, tuck in your lips
Don’t get one too small, it’ll blow at your hips.
Rock that thong lesbians, be nice to guys.
We can still check your ass when your thong draws our eyes.

Rock that thong, grandma, you old Southern Belle.
On second thought, grandma, that’s nasty as hell.
But all of your daughters and granddaughters, wow!
should rock that thong
all day long
rock it right now!

A cop’s trademark ’stache has a very proud history.
Worn by fat cats, and villains, and dark men of mystery.
In the sixties and seventies ’staches were huge.
Over twenty long years of a moustache deluge.

When Tom Selleck wore one, the ladies still cheered.
Then goatees were ‘in’ and the ’stache disappeared.
While less common these days, it remains quite effectual
as a prop for a cop, cowboy or homosexual.

When people say to ‘keep it real’
I usually smile and grunt.
It’s bad advice for real assholes.
If you’re one, keep a front.

Better to say ‘Keep it nice”
so assholes understand.
If that suggests you not be real
then fake it if you can.