|Satire Poetry posted January 26, 2014|
An offer of solace for victims of the Rogue
I'm Not a Rogue!
Come near sweet dears let me be clear
Fear no boast of the chickies I roast
No Casanova am I with lust in my eye
No bulge in my pants or dangerous lance
Your head on my shoulder, his heart couldn't be colder
That cock crowed fowl lies while he pecked at your thighs
His tongue tied in knots while he fumbled for spots
Some smiles he did send but he'd kissed the wrong end
Now he's making up stories of fantastical glories
He's bragging on paper pretending a caper
tales of endless screwing but no one he's doing
The only girl to be seen? plastic, slathered with Vaseline
Alone now the Rogue shall muddle, eyeing his fast drying puddle
I have no slick lines to befuddle; all I want is to cuddle
But you dear gals needn't worry; I shall be there in a hurry
I'm here now to hold, my motives pure gold
Trust this sweet boy, I would never be coy
I say, with my cute Irish brogue (-wink-), "I'm not a rogue!"
Am I too late to the fray? I feared that some feathers might be ruffled and that a warm and caring shoulder might be sought to lean on for comfort. Of course, an innocent such as I would have no motive other than to bestow a sweet kiss to wipe away the memory of such a salacious rougacious person. Mikey is here to help. I have Cold Duck on ice. Yep, champagne!Pays one point and 2 member cents.
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