POETRY – The Process

 

I don’t consider good sex a trophy,

It is more like hearty applause,

But sometimes the PROCESS is less exciting,

Than the prospect of impending menopause,

The PURSUIT can be an interesting phenomenon,

And generally the phase that I like best,

It more often than not … holds greater rewards,

Than the humiliation of the CONQUEST.

Sex without foreplay or passion,

Is like throwing away the orange ..

.. and eating the rind,

Or going overseas on a vacation,

And leaving your Passport behind.

I thought that I’d been delivered an Angel,

Only after I had let him fly away,

I regretted not investigating his potential,

Until once again our paths crossed one wet Sunday.

As before … he appeared without warning,

So I surrendered without much of a fight,

Because I thought that he was on ..

.. a Mission from God,

But now for that … I am appropriately contrite.

I was PROCESSED quite efficiently,

IN and OUT … within half an hour,

It was a bloody disappointment,

The best part was the nice hot shower.

 

He believed that he’d performed quite admirably,

And expected me to say “Thanks”,

Personally … I don’t know why he..

.. wanted me there at all,

He may as well have … had a wank!

Leaving me a hot-blooded, wanton woman,

Extremely aroused … but unsatisfied,

Another notch in the gun of a Dick Head,

Who when he’d promoted his prowess ../ had lied.

Now I’m very concerned with Quality Control,

And wary of men who claim to be Studs,

Because I cannot complain to Consumers’ Affairs,

If despite their packaging …

… they turn out to be Duds.

 

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