Poteet the internet poet
Sits nude upon his chair
His flaccid penis pooling
In the sweat that’s curdled there
Black socks on clawed feet dangle
His belly smudged with waste
Reaching down to firmly scratch
And then to sniff and taste
.
But, how the ladies love him
The beauty of his verse
In lifting tones and risings pure
His poems so sweet converse
He steals their hearts with candied rhyme
To sooth their sorrowed brow
If only they could see him
As we all see him now
.
Poteet the internet poet
Types nimbly in his chair
His drool falls down to emphasize
The words supplanted there
“Oh sweet love and spark of life”
His fingers dance delight
He reaches down and promises
To spread his seed tonight.
.
But, how the ladies love him
They close their eyes to yearn
The soul they feel so bonded too
With passion’s fire they burn
Obsession fills their dreamland
And warms the lonely lass
Poteet the internet poet
Picks his nose then passes gas
.
.
“Poteet” © John Anthony. All Rights Reserved.
The Delicate Edge 