Thursday, February 27, 2014

Demi Moore

 

So here's the score:
You're no Demi Moore
And I aint Jean-Claude Van Damme.
You're a doughnut-mad blob
And I'm a beer-swilling slob,
And we both like our fried eggs and ham

And Southern fried chicken,
A large egg McMuffin
From McDonald's fine range of cuisine;
Hot dogs with Ketchup,
A great greasy fry-up,
And we don't care where our hands have been.

We just shove it all in
With an open-mouthed grin,
My toothless gums all on display;
Though you still have a tooth,
It's way past its youth,
And riddled with dental decay.

So you're not Angelina,
I'm sorry my dear,
But I'm no Adonis à la nude;
However, we are
Together thus far,
A wonderful couple so crude.


Copyright © Mark Raymond Slaughter 2009

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

The City By the Sea -- San Francisco By George Sterling

 

At the end of our streets is sunrise;
At the end of our streets are spars;
At the end of our streets is sunset;
At the end of our streets the stars.
Ever the winds of morning
Are cool from the flashing sea--
Flowing swift from our ocean,
Till the fog-dunes crumble and flee.
Slender spars in the offing,
Mast and yard in the slips--
How they tell on the azure
Of the sea-contending ships!
Homeward into the sunset
Sill unwearied we go,
Till the northern hills are misty
With the amber of afterglow.
Stars that sink to our ocean,
Winds that visit our strand,
The heavens are your pathway,
Where is a gladder land!
At the end of our streets is sunrise;
At the end of our streets are spars;
At the end of our streets is sunset;
At the end of our streets the stars.



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