Greetings Fairy Nymphs and Children of the Night. I come to you now as one eating a large #5 on white sandwich from Subway. We'll only be having one poem this week due largely to the fact that this particular poem is very emotionally draining for me. I think I'd have an emotional meltdown if I tried to do two. So for my sake and the sake of faint-hearted poets everywhere, we'll just have the one.
Martha My Dear...
Martha you don't know just what you do,
when you wear that sexy moo moo.
You're the giant woman mallet driving love nails deep into my heart.
Baby you don't know just what you do,
when you dance your sexy voodoo.
You're the woman cleaver hacking my beefy soul apart.
Words are useless as my appendix.
Tongue cannot describe your beauty.
Gladly I'd amputate my feet,
just to be able to place them in the same jar as your amputated feet.
So Martha my Dear,
my words did you hear?
Know that I love you like Denver
I will wait for you my dear,
while you serve your sentence.
Then, we will run away forever.
Thus we reach the end of week 4's poem. I would like to thank all of the millions of viewers tuning in to our program for your constant support. Without your support none of this would have been possible. So remember this November to vote for duct tape. That crap fixes everything.
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