“THE INTOXICATING POWER OF LOVE!” a poem, a.k.a.: “It Must Be A Spell!” April 6, 2019 (Saturday)
She’s a witch, for she-puts-potions,
In my food – and uses lotions,
So she smells,
Like-an-animal (and I can tell)
That I am drugged, ’cause NO ONE LOOKS AS GOOD AS HER!
Or smells that good, I must concur,
That I CRAVE HER! She is SO pretty,
And THAT, I know, must-be a-witch’s-titty;
Because they grow and call to me!!
I’m-“in-rapture,” can’t you see?
I can not speak a decent line,
To celebrate HER in a rhyme,
Because I’m drunk for love of her;
I am a lost and lonely cur,
But I don’t care, I haven’t time,
To wonder-about my state of mind,
Or why it is (pause) it-is-that-I’m,
EXCEPT OF HER!-and-to-touch-and-clutch,
Her cute and shapely but,
Cha-know I AM A HAPPY BEAST,
A horny bas- – -d-yes, but-at-least,
I know this much: She IS a witch,
AND I’M A WARLOCK, in love, with-itch!!!
IF-YOU HAVE GOT YOURSELF AN ITCH, THEN SCRATCH! (pause)
[I LOVE this witch! Oh, what a catch!]
I’m smelling blood-in-love-with-you,
and I don’t know just what to do,
Except to love you, love you even more!
ON THE BROOMSTICK , LET US SOAR!