Your Poetry Dot Com - Shaving Ryan’s Privates

Array ( [sid] => 102469 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Shaving Ryan’s Privates [time] => 2005-08-01 22:56:35 [hometext] => [bodytext] => If this was the inverse
What comes second
Should have really come first
A last drink to never quench your thirst
One more stroke of her hand
Before you finally burst

If this was remotely fair
All this stress
Would add lusciousness to my graying hair
Would set me apart
Beyond compare
Like a true work of art
When you can’t help but stop and stare

If this were the age
Of fast cars and roller-skates
Drive in movies and Watergates
Stickball and soul mates
Filthy ten dollars worth
Of a shady nickel bag
Seeds collect like dirt
Exhale to release the hurt

If there was a moral
At the very least a solvent point
A diagram of disorder
Dismembered at the throat
Stimulation of the libido
Pointless games
A face held incognito
Puff and pass the joint

If this were a mockery
What do you call what you wrote
Gibberish sitting next to me
Leave it to you to tell a bad joke
Constantly bombarded
My vision retarded
Here you go, have the last toke

____________________________________
_________________________ [comments] => 5 [counter] => 196 [topic] => 43 [informant] => lancaster [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 22 [ratings] => 6 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Shaving Ryan’s Privates

Shaving Ryan’s Privates
Date: Monday, 1st August 2005 @ 10:56:35 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: lancaster

If this was the inverse
What comes second
Should have really come first
A last drink to never quench your thirst
One more stroke of her hand
Before you finally burst

If this was remotely fair
All this stress
Would add lusciousness to my graying hair
Would set me apart
Beyond compare
Like a true work of art
When you can’t help but stop and stare

If this were the age
Of fast cars and roller-skates
Drive in movies and Watergates
Stickball and soul mates
Filthy ten dollars worth
Of a shady nickel bag
Seeds collect like dirt
Exhale to release the hurt

If there was a moral
At the very least a solvent point
A diagram of disorder
Dismembered at the throat
Stimulation of the libido
Pointless games
A face held incognito
Puff and pass the joint

If this were a mockery
What do you call what you wrote
Gibberish sitting next to me
Leave it to you to tell a bad joke
Constantly bombarded
My vision retarded
Here you go, have the last toke

____________________________________
_________________________

This poem is Copyright ยฉ lancaster

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