My Poems Ain't Dirty

My poems ain’t dirty,
They paint a purdy picture with innuendoes,
And though they may be a little wordy when closer to the edge,
In the end they’re like sturdy old mementos.
 
My verses aren’t nasty,
Unless you’re into that kind of ghastly aural fixation,
But I know it sounds kind of nice past the ears,
The way it appears to flow from the lips during the narration.

My rhymes ain’t got that kind of time,
Unless your filthy mind likes to roll around deep in it,
Like double entendres, you hear in between the lines,
It’s a sign that you were already thinking it.

My limericks are like slick Freudian slips,
Just the tip of the lilt you tilt your head and you’re already there,
It may sound sleazy but it’s pretty easy to assume,
That I have a suggestive brain I’m willing to share.

My compositions have many different positions,
I mean a different point of view, perspective and angle,
But if you believe I’m going to reveal my riddles,
Then you also probably think my participles dangle.

My poems ain’t dirty,
They’re just pretty quirky itty bitty witty ditties I like to comprise,
But if my amusive words are a little allusive,
Then I just might be a pervert in a romantic disguise.