50 Shades of OY VEY

If we live in a world that invites us all to have sex, yet only lets us look at porn, I figured I'd sell the bucket and join the flag bearers.  I will not only be a purveyor of porn and the like, I will take a modern work ethic and get dirty with it.  I will join the mental masturbation of modern masses into a string of words and sentences that will tug at their genitalia and give CPR to their nipples.  I welcome you to the first notations of the fictional new non-existent book, 50 Shades of OY VEY.  A creation of the entity known as Meet Rabbits


The men volleyed insults about sexual gormandizing and

crooned like songbirds as she approached. The branches of 

family trees long since dormant wavered nervously as she strode 

forth with the abandon of a schoolgirl who had known pleasures 

and losses in equal measure. Only the presence of courage, luck, 

and bravado would turn the tide of current favour, and like the 

lipstick she refused to wear, they were sadly lacking.

 At a Local "Men's drinking establishment" (meet rabbits)

Would that the whalebone of her corset held so true a

course as the blood pulsing within her nether regions. 

Each drop promising to leave her bereft of moist 

sanity, yet so easily replaced by the heat of each 

embrace. Lips pressed upon each other, insistent that 

the heights reached could only consume them and 

build hostility and illicit stares from the crowd.

Later that day... 

...and when he looked at the grace of her countenance, he was

consumed by a passion that did grow a husbandly bulge in his coin

purse.

can porn replace love... of course it can.  and a horse can replace a helicopter... briefly.  The important thing to remember is that to do so is to disrespect all horses who work in the porn industry.  They are the glue that holds the money shot together.  They are the MEAT in the kibble of desire.  They are the mane stay of our life's blood.  Feed your Love a carrot, sure, perhaps even a sugar-cube, but remember - NOTHING replaces good old fashioned foreplay.. or is that whores-play...  (can I get a Fluffer on the set, please)

Dabuoy

First kiss again

I met this young girl at a bar, and she says to me, "you write poetry, how hard can it be for you to write song lyrics.".
  Admittedly at the time, there was drinking, kissing and a VERY disproportionate flow of blood to places other than the part of the brain that warns against these things, but I thought - at the age of 45, I have very few virgin experiences left and this might just be one of them.  Sure I have rhythm and music, but was she right?  Was something else lacking?
It was then we decided to create a band known as Meet Rabbits...
After meeting again, and seeing each other naked, I told her I would see if I could write a song lyric of the ilk that kids groove on today.  I wrote several versions of Sugar,Sugar, I'm a believer, and I am a Lineman for the County, before finally creating the word salad that appears below.
So NOW with a heavy hand, and slightly sore junk...

The Lucky One

I only left a little scar

No one will hardly notice

Simply apply the make-up 

and smile like a clown

A little lip and lifeless

You could be dull and grey

cover up the truth and live as if,

you never age

I remember a ghost of a hand

where only my wrist is

and I'm not sure if the blood on the floor is mine

Was that a knife

a gun

a bomb

or did you just think that about me

Actions speak louder than words

Fear speaks LOUDEST of all

Can you see the tears of joy

behind the sorrow...

at least we have tomorrow

Chorus

All I wanted was Everything

you could only give me love

All I needed was Everything

you could only hold my hand

I gave you LOVE

and you kept asking me for EVERYTHING

Dabuoy