K. Morris's Blog, page 289

You May Speak of Morality

You may speak of morality
But when
Lonely men
Feel their mortality,
What chance
Has philosophise,
When man can
Enjoy The ancient dance,
Of a professionals, calculating, eyes?

When A Young Lady Named Jane

When a young lady named Jane
Said, you ought to die of shame,
Inviting young women in at long gone midnight,
Then, seeing them off by late mornings light!,
I said, but you rang my doorbell, Jane!.

Elastic

When a young lady with morals most elastic
Said, it would be absolutely fantastic
If you could pay my expenses.
Let us have no more pretences!,
I said, my finances are not that elastic!.

The Whig Version of History

There once was a young lady named Mystery
Who believed in the Whig version of history.
She would constantly stress
The inevitability of progress.
But her reasoning, it remains shrouded in mystery!

There Once Was A Young Lady Named Melisa

There once was a young lady named Melisa
Who desired all the men to kiss her.
She was pretty but flighty,
And wore only her nightie.
Shes gone, and all the men miss her!

I Saw Blossom On A Bush

I saw blossom on a bush,
And thought on how many men
Rush,
To entomb,
The bloom!

Whilst Walking Around the Great London Planetarium

Whilst walking around the great London Planetarium
I met a wild eyed Libertarian,
Who said, sir, dont you see
That we must have complete liberty!.
Then he jumped into a passing aquarium!

There Once Was A Man Most Frisky

There once was a man most frisky
Who was fond of women and whisky.
When it came to the judgement day
The lord God did most solemnly say,
You must, for your sinful ways pay.
But, first Ill allow you a whisky!.

3

One black,
The other white.
How does one unpack
The fantasy
Of 3?

A mans delight
Comprised in breasts.
Wondering on the point
Of her firm chest,
And her friends,
Flatter, chest.

What are the ends
Of play?
It was not
Unusually hot.
But the temperature was okay
For them to stay
Outside
The bedclothes.

Who decides
Whether a fantasy
For the number
3 ,
Should move from slumber
To the reality
Of a half hour
With flowers,
Not his?

 

TIME AN ILLUSION

Deep sleep draws us in
The night passes clocks ticking
Time an illusion

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