Me: -Dances!- I've finally thought up another poem!
Muse: I wash my hands of this.
Me: Shut up, you! -Squashes her muse with an enormous bugswatter.-
Honestly.. I'm not that bad. ...am I? -The lower lip trembles.-
This one is dedicated to the purpose of discovering just why all of us girls helplessly fall prey to the nameless and inexplicable Wonka Charm. Will I actually discover this reason...?
Do we -need- a reason?
Please tell me what you think. I don't care if you leave me a nice, long, grammatically superiorcompliment, or you simply say "it sux, u dorke". Just gimme a holla. :)
Merlot
He's really quite creepy. The king of freaks,
With a funny hair cut and a voice that squeaks.
So...
Why are we swooning? What is the deal?
What's so damn sexy? What do we feel!
"The personality!" of course, is our standard cry,
Perfectly aware that we've told a large lie.
We like his demeanor? His misanthrope way?
Germaphobic paranoia and stinging wordplay?
I guess we love men who are childish and rude,
Immature workaholics who are conceited and prude.
(All you boys, notice the sarcasm imbued.)
"He does dress nice," we next lamely say,
Though, on anyone else, those heels would be gay.
The top hat, the frock coat, the cane with no limp--
Just give him a bling-bling, and you'd have a pimp.
His face, of course, is quite beyond bonnie,
But it ain't even his. (He owes it to Johnny.)
So why are we certain to shiver and pine
Whenever he sings out "Good morning, Starshine"?
We really aren't sure what this infatuation is for,
So we ponder his picture... and fall for him more.
I can't give the reason for my fellow fangirls
For our dreamy smiles and flirty hair twirls...
So why I adore him, as best as I know,
Is for his manic magic, and that dash of merlot.