pre-weekend humor poetry

[Bertramp]

A WOMAN'S POEM
Before I lay me down to sleep,
I pray for a man who's not a creep.
One who's handsome, smart and strong,
One who loves to listen long.
One who thinks before he speaks,
One who'll call, not wait for weeks.
I pray he's rich and self-employed,
And when I spend, won't be annoyed.
Pull out my chair and hold my hand.
Massage my feet and help me stand.
Oh send a king to make me queen.
A man who loves to cook and clean.
I pray this man will love no other.
And relish visits with my mother.

A MAN'S POEM
I pray for a deaf-mute gymnast
nymphomaniac with big boobs who owns
a bar on a golf course or in a marina, and loves
to send me fishing and drinking. This
doesn't rhyme and I don't give a rat's
ass.


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[MarkS]

History has shown me that the guy in the woman's poem usually gets kicked to the curb for being a spineless crying turd.
he is often replaced by some jackass that goes fishing all the time without asking for permission.
The woman in the guys poem only exists in a utopian society like maybe, France.

[Bruce]

Mark,
The guy you describe is the one in that new car commercial trying to teach his kid to throw. The new eunuch modern male.

[mike ohlstein]

Yeah, but he'll never need rotator cuff surgery.

[MarkS]

Nor will he need Rogaine for his palm.