The Perfect Woman Searching For The Perfect Man
The Simple Life
Do you have a few moments,
For just a little drivel,
As our planet continues,
To orbit, tremble, and swivel?
Why did the chicken cross the road,
On such a beautiful day?
Was it merely fate,
Or was it fowl play?
Is congress actually progress,
When it hardly has a plan,
When if in charge of deserts,
We’d surely run out of sand?
How can modern man,
Make any substantial advance,
When certainty eludes him as,
Learning is not obtained by chance.
She placed an ad for her charms.
She only wanted the simple life.
Traveling the Earth and beyond,
As the simple man’s simple wife.
He placed his ad like she.
He was ready to settle down.
Had they both built their mansions,
On sand and shaky ground?
He was a pillar of the community,
A financial success, no doubt.
She exemplified a perfection,
That perfect man could not be without.
She peaked his anxiety with her piety.
She would be the perfect wife.
They’re simply traveling the Earth,
Trying to live the simple life.
Ah…the simple life!
They hiked Nepal in summer.
They skied the Alps in the winter,
Because Vail was such a bummer.
At long last they were complete.
Each had the perfect mate.
Each ate their simple meals,
With a silver spoon and golden plate.
Isn’t it just a ruse,
A very clever façade?
And what if we are to serve,
A merciful, benevolent God?
Questions for this universe,
Persist, surround, and linger.
Do Gorillas have big nostrils,
Just because they have big fingers?
Is the giraffe’s neck so long,
Just to reach its head?
And why use so many words,
When nothing substantial is said?
How complex is simplicity?
Should we strive for complexity instead?
For to truly live the “simple life”,
One needs a lot of bread.
The Perfect Woman
She wanted a real man,
To lavish love she so deserved.
A man whose very existence,
Hinged on her every word.
A real man to hold her hand,
Whose sole being rests,
On this real woman,
With reconstructed silicone breasts.
With false eyelashes,
Stiletto heals, and designer jeans,
She longs for the perfect man,
With few words and a lot of means.
She wanted a real man,
To long for her collagen lips,
And yearn for her augmented,
Implanted, padded hips.
Her perfect hair and make-up,
Exemplify perfect class.
She must be the perfect woman,
Searching for the perfect ass.
More by this Author
Some of this was written years ago. Some of it was written more than eight years ago, actually. So much has changed, like my address. I no longer own a bike shop or an inn or a home. My address has changed. Some of my...
If Mona Lisa only had a bicycle!
The story that I'm emphasizing here is of the Surrender of Camp Carroll. The "surrender" takes place in 1972. Camp Carroll was a United States Marine Corps artillery base during the Vietnam War. It was...