deepundergroundpoetry.com
SONG TO THE THONG
When I've put on my thong,
I feel, like, "I belong
in ranks of the nubile,
the free-single lifestyle -
with no limits exact
to whom I could attract
(as long as they are kind
to me, I do not mind);
tigress in love's jungle,
likes a good 'well hung-le.'"
A thong says, "You're welcome
to lay hands on my bum
when you have gazed enough
upon my strutted stuff."
This girl here isn't shy
to see one on a guy,
in such string like cover;
touch of warrior,
as, from Africa, hot,
and happy with his lot -
and I would gladly hug
one with crown jewels snug!
I feel, like, "I belong
in ranks of the nubile,
the free-single lifestyle -
with no limits exact
to whom I could attract
(as long as they are kind
to me, I do not mind);
tigress in love's jungle,
likes a good 'well hung-le.'"
A thong says, "You're welcome
to lay hands on my bum
when you have gazed enough
upon my strutted stuff."
This girl here isn't shy
to see one on a guy,
in such string like cover;
touch of warrior,
as, from Africa, hot,
and happy with his lot -
and I would gladly hug
one with crown jewels snug!
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