On Poetry, Love and Lenny, or...

ON POETRY, LOVE and LENNY
or
HOW I GIVE A FUCK

Lenny Cohn was known to say,
“It often takes a year and a day
To finish my poetic verse”
Though I myself can bend,
I think poems deserve an end
Even if slicker, at least a bit quicker
Not to take a thing from Cohn
If there is a poetic throne
No doubt he deserves it as much as royalty
I do not mean to be paltry
But poetry is a bit like sex
It needs to begin and have an end
And somewhere in between
A scene that brings blood thumping
As if you were bumping a movie queen
And judging by Lenny’s marital record
Maybe he’s gives only a fraction
Perhaps more talk then action
But what do I know?
About the sex habits of such men of fame
And if the women hold them to blame
For missed orgasms and unfilled chasms
I am not the type to hole up in a monastery at night
Chanting all day in a strange foreign way
I guess this mantra stuff is heard
By some all knowing God who understands every word
But I’ve got better things to do at night
Sex for one thing, and when I feel right
A day fuck is God’s blessing with a smile
That’s why I keep religion from messing with my style
Although it does not have to be, you see,
The priests take a vow of chastity
And then they live so nastily
My dear friend Father Aldo, he’s gone
To heaven or hell, he wasn’t too well
Back in the days when he was abstaining
He whispered to me one day in my car,
“Oh how I long for a night in one gay bar”
How he desired to be the one at the end of the line
Of unzipped guys waiting for their time
I never found that lure attractive
Or stripper clubs where guys give
Dollars between the folds of blown up tits
And exposed holes, odd vaginas with moles
For me I never got thrills from things I could not touch
Though I admit I once saw some rare shit
In an Asian porno that gave me a rush
But my idea of pleasure
Is making love at my leisure
But should it have to be in a rush, even standing up,
Sometimes tuff, I can even do it on the rough
(And I don’t claim to be special case,
most men could fuck in outer space)
But when hubby is not in the drive way
And it is the maid day off
Then a slow rendition of the old in and out
With a few positions when in doubt
And then before pulling out
Having sown my seed in her pasture
Or pleasurably deep in her ass for
Crazy stuff I’ve tried a little
But for me there is drama enough in the diddle
I understand some like to feel the lash,
Or the light whip on their dick
And that can be fun but if I have to pick
I’d take a cute blond
A color of which I’m fond to dare
Although in truth I don’t care
If she is a brunet or a strawberry
Platinum is also nice; I used to fuck my boss Jerry’s
Wife, she was shaved bald wore great wigs
That sat on the bedpost while we fucked a jig
I always make sure my mate has orgasmed
Once, twice or more
I think that’s a guy’s responsibility
Before thinking of self-amour
I slowly start to penetrate,
Her cunt or ass or mouth to sate
My needs, my desires or what ever she requires
That is the key, keeping her satisfied and happy
Then I find the rhythm that works best for me
And with her clue I proceed to do
What a good poet does when there is wood in the furnace
God knows I’m earnest, and with each stroke
And with the quicker beats of my heart
As a musician would say, I lay down a track
So smooth, so nice, so raw, that I will be invited back
To perform a concerto or a notturno ridotto
Or a simple fuck that will leave her blotto
I make more love then I write poems
I don’t aspire a stack of tomes
And if my poetry lacks in finesse or dash
My lovers can testify to my panache
So pardon now as I lay down my pen
There is a lover for whom I have a yen
Enough said of Suzan and her tea from China
I’m not interested in beverages
I just want to get behind her
Lenny can go and rewrite
My cock is stiff and the night
Is young and as my lovers say
I am amply hung
So I bid you adieu
My sweet readers
I lay down my pen and
I will now use my peter