A & TMature

People are diverse and never the same.

People with sorrow and people with pain.

People and colour, and gender, and race.

Every time different, not one matching face.

Impossible to divide in two rows.

No black or white, all is grey, so it goes.

Only one question parts them like red seas.

Ask them which they prefer: ass, or titties?

For asses are rotund, 

And smoother than glass.

In plain sight you can't grope,

But you can 'smack dat ass'

For a girl has two assets:

And they're both rosy cheeks.

The handlebars of love,

The valley with two peaks.

Delicious platter of buttocks,

Peach with no awful stone,

But one problem: they fart,

About that, you can moan.

But don't forget breasts!

Some argue they are much better,

Cleavage dark and mysterious,

Firm and soft, look good wetter,

Sacred, bouncing hummocks

Sanctuary (though it's corny),

To the heads of the weary,

And the hands of the horny

Glorious chest-bumps of cleavage,

Like the wind, they do billow.

With a brimful of asha,

They are the best pillow.

So they say, "Ass, or tits?"

And I pose reader, to thee,

Which kind of guy are you?

Do you go for A, or T?

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed