Poems for Nancy

O!  Nancy, my Love, O! Sweet Nancy!
To me you are no passing fancy!
     My heart you do fill,
     But what's this?  A bill?
Two hundred and ten for a quickie?

In sooth I did love a fair lassie,
Did diddle her patch of sweet grassy.
      "Your love-making's nifty,
        Now hand me a fifty."
I did, and she walked out the door!

I once loved a woman in Greenwich, 

Who proved to be quite the cruel fat bitch. 

            She told me, "Do stay!
            But first you must pay."
 I had no idea she was a God-damned spoiled brat whore, and only interested in men for their money, the blond fuck.  

One day I dear Nancy was choking,
Was asked if I was not joking. 
      "What's funny?" I said,
       And then she was dead.
And so, I rid the world of a fucking disgusting whore pig piece of shit pig-slut!

I held out a 40 for sex,

Cause Nancy refused to take checks
        "That forty I'll take,
          But make no mistake, 
I usually get a lot more, but hell, for five bucks I'll blow anyone."  

Twas a curious, devilish, sight,
It swung freely from  left to right,
            For Nancy did hang,
            A sign front her yang,
It said simply, "Open All Night." 

A Nancy did steal my sad heart, 

Then tore it asunder in parts, 

            For a harlot was she,

            Her love was not free,
 So I kicked her till her brains poured out all over the place and there was blood everywhere.    Nice.

Dear Nancy did hail from CT, 

A state without love or pity.

   "Tis a whore that I am,

    And my smile's but a sham, 

For your love I could not give a damn."  

"I know that I said that I loved you,
But please do not call anymore."
With these words my heart broke wide open, 

Lies still to this day on the floor.

            But happy was she,    

            And spoke with much glee.
About how she was only after rich guys and would fuck anyone

with lots of money and she was proud of this, like, this didn't make her a prostitute. 

How many had Nancy allowed

Her privates to be so roughly plowed?
     "As long as there's cash,
      I'll open the sash,"

And another did plunder her, loud!

If only dear Nancy could love me,
I would have had all that I need,
      But being a slut,
      With one bulbous butt,
She only could love her ATM, or some guy who drives a BMW, the pig-whore.

My love would not pick up a phone, 

Nor easily throw me a bone,
      She laughed till she peed,
      Whilst I bled with such pain you can't believe it, why she couldn't just return a call, say something, anything, you know, just good manners, the bitch.   Bitch from hell.

'Tis Spring!  And my heart fills with yearning!

For Nancy, who left my soul burning. 
       So I lit a match,
       Where fire would catch,
And her house burned down and killed the bitch and her fucking family in flames and burning agony and unimaginably hideous pain.    Then I stood and laughed heartily over their charred corpses, danced and sang, "Light My Fire."      Sweet.


* * *

An Epic Poem of Love

How often I've thought of the pleasure, 
It fails me never, to think,
Of how I did murder my treasure,
By holding her head in the sink. 

I only had asked for some sweet calm, 
A salve to comfort my pain, 
Just two words to act as a balm,
To end the distress in my brain. 

Thus was I forced to reach out for, 
The top of her phony blond head,
To rid the world of this whore,
And hold it until she was dead. 

"The world will be thankful!" I shouted.
"And shower me grandly with praise!
With bowers of laurels, undoubted,
To the march of a grand Polonaise!"

"He rid us of Satanic evil!"
"Of Satanic birth," they will cheer.
"Whose heart was so cruel and primeval,
So mankind could live free of fear!"

"Pitiless, spiteful, malicious!
"Her soul was the color of lead." 
"Get back into Hell, O!  Pernicious!
Lets burn off her hideous head!"

She squirmed, she battled, she sputtered, 
But only, by God, Had she uttered, 
          Those two little words,
          That twittered like birds, 
          Caused strong men to weep, 
          And sinners' hearts leap --  

         'Twas not in the heart
          Of this loathsome tart, 
          To render that phrase, 
          That all men would praise! 

          Not God on His Throne,
          Could make her intone,
          Not Hercules might, 
          Nor Plato's insight,
         
          Not Hell in it's fury, 
          No judge and no jury, 
          No Kingdom on earth, 
          Could make her give birth, 
                To two simple words --
       
                                              "I'm sorry."  

***    ***  *** 


If you've enjoyed my poems of love I thank you and wish you the fulfillment of love in your heart!

And, Nancy, you should only get rickets.