Poem Number One

I've come here to explore, and maybe bore, knock on my door, same as before, go to the store just once more
I look such a sight, it's dark at night, do be polite, that squeeze is so tight, should we fight or flight? Tell me tonight, go fly a kite.
I look for a cure. it's got to be pure, yes I'm very sure, don't act demure, you're talking manure, I don't feel secure
You think you're so hard, a bit of a card, but now that you're barred, everything that you've marred, will never be starred, you're a tub of lard
Don't act too cute, or try to be astute, just play with your flute, wow that's a real beaut, should I salute, before you shoot then pollute, that does not compute.
You don't need to swear, oh sit in the chair, where? over there, don't you dare give me that glare, it just isn't fare, I've got nothing to wear, why do you stare, you think we're a pair, just because I'm bare?
I'm here, with my beer looking queer, no one comes near, they all steer clear of my sexy rear.
What you got? What you bought? You will get caught doing things you ought not, I'm losing the plot, put a penny in the slot, to hear the Scot who never got shot, so what.

by Gordon David

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