#52 – It’s all in the Title

Until this morning, I couldn’t understand why my wife has been flashing me odd looks for the past week.  Nor could I fathom why she twice asked me whether there’s anything about me I haven’t told her but should. Naturally, the response I gave to that question on both occasions was “no.”  Internally of course, my immediate thought each time was: There’s a lot I haven’t told you, all of which I plan to take to my grave. 

I finally solved the mystery today, when my search for last month’s gas bill uncovered a document buried in a stack atop Sophia’s desk.  It was a poem I’d written some years ago.  Presumably, my wife had procured the work during a recent archaeological dig through the piles of crap littering our basement.  The problem was, she’d apparently retrieved the poem without the accompanying cover page containing its title.  Although I’d written the verse as a joke, I could see how this omission might convey the wrong impression about its author. 

See if you agree.  Here’s my masterpiece, written during the early years of the second President Bush’s administration and titled “Hail to the Chief – An Ode to President Bush, by Dick Cheney.” (WARNING: if you’re easily offended, or a registered Republican, you probably should read no further.) 

You bend beneath the shower’s spray,
stooped in concentration.
Reaching for the slipping soap,
ripe for penetration.
 
Your glistening buttocks calls to me,
its skin so milky white.
The angled form has now exposed
a dark yet splendid sight.
 
Close framed by curly wisps of hair,
a dingleberry tree.
I long to pluck those precious fruits,
my teeth shall pry them free.
 
Beneath the tree the chipmunk’s hole,
a winter’s home for sleep.
I also wish safe refuge there,
nestled in, warm and deep.
 
My tongue will probe the inner soul,
with torrid flicks and sucks.
Until with passion flaming forth,
your body wildly bucks.
 
Your manhood stretches taut and straight,
throbbing bottled pressure.
Then quiv’ring, spews its liquid burst,
symbol of great pleasure.
 
Alas too soon my daydream ends,
the shower now complete.
Put back my business-like facade,
goodbye for now my sweet.

Bush and ChaneyMan and Admirer

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Comments

#52 – It’s all in the Title — 4 Comments

  1. Yeah, I know.  But as I said, I wrote the poem some years ago.  I’d like to think I’ve matured a bit since then.  Granted, no one who knows me shares that belief.

  2. Not this particular piece.  But I did go to Cornell; I did live in that dorm; and I did write the occasional masterpiece on the bathroom stall walls.  Might I ask though, what was a young lady such as yourself doing in the men’s room, and reading no less?

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