09 October 2008
A Second Helping of Lord Likely’s Big Hairy Ballads
Good day, all!
While my latest astonishing adventure romps along towards its doubtlessly thrilling, under-garment drenching climax, I thought it was high time we had a brief respite from such relentless action, and took the time to appreciate some more of my frankly brilliant poetry, pulled from my as-yet unpublished book of verse, The Salty Tears of the Love Python.
When courting a lady, I find that there are three things that assist me enormously in my amorous advances: plenty of alcohol, a well-placed finger or two (or even an entire hand, depending on the company) , and of course some fine romantic poetry. There have been many times a woman has melted into my arms upon beholding my seductive stanzas, and now in an extremely generous gesture, I wish to share some of my vagina-dampening verse with you all!
So, dear readers, if you are quite ready, allow me to take my large, proud quill in my hand, and thrust it into your dirty ink-pot, and let us proceed with the poetry…
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
I do not see any reason why not
You leave me sweaty and you make me hot
And you make me want to disrobe an awful lot.
When e’er you look in my direction
I can barely suppress my throbbing erection
I could hold your gaze
For countless days
Because I swear I can see my reflection.
If my penis could talk, I am sure he would say
That you are looking quite lovely to-day.
If my penis could talk, I am sure he’d declare
That he really loves what you’ve done with your hair.
If my penis could talk, I am sure he’d announce
That he loves ev’ry inch of you, and ev’ry ounce.
If my penis could talk, I am sure he would state
That you are completely fabulous, and utterly great.
But why listen to him, waffling on when instead
He could be silenced if you just sat on his head?
The Twin Peaks of You
I could tell you how I love your eyes of blue,
But I’m afraid that is not what I’m going to do.
Instead I shall move straight on to your chest,
For that is the part that I do like the best.
You’ll have to excuse me if I stop and stare
But it cannot be helped, they’re a perfect pair.
I want to befriend them and take them for dinner,
Though I’d be preoccupied and wind up only thinner.
I want to hold them and stroke them and tell them I care
Then take them back home and lead them upstairs.
Do not feel neglected, please do not feel blue,
You are more than welcome to accompany us too.
A Poem Wherein the Number of Words in the Title
Far Outweighs the Number of Words in the Actual Verse Itself
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
Two tits and one mimsy
That would make three.
And so there you have it, my friends, some of the most passionate and perfectly-penned poetry you shall ever lay your eyes upon! Feel free to go forth and deploy my devastatingly-effective words upon your own beloveds. I guarantee you shall be elbow deep in vagina before the night it out! (Or you shall find yourself packed-full of penis, if you are of the fairer sex.) However, should you be successful in your seductions, then I demand photographic evidence for my own… perusal. Yes.
- Lord Likely.
Next Time in The Astonishing Adventures of Lord Likely: We pick up where we left off, in Lord Likely’s latest adventure, A Lesson In Murder!
A Notice For You To Notice: Having been recently fired from his job for being entirely wretched, my useless scribe, Mr. A. D. Fanton, has recently found new work at a company who clearly know very little about hiring quality staff. Nevertheless, I am sure you will join me in wishing the cove well, even if his return to work has taken priority over his commitments to my lordly self, hence the disgusting lack of updates to the journals this week. The twat-flap.
Hungry for more inter-net based fiction? Then may I suggest you peruse The Web Fiction Guide, Pages Unbound or The Blog Fiction Blog, all of which are thoroughly excellent, due in no small part to the fact that I am listed with them all. Huzzah!