An ode to my brethren, who face a similar situation each day...
Morning erections are not my doing,
For no one was near, no one was cooing,
It is up long before, I open my eyes,
before the rays even touch them skies,
It’s hard and long and hurts like a hell,
every morning, like a date with some belle,
Nothing needed,self encouraged I guess,
It’s a pain each day, to tell it to rest,
I think I need to see a physician,
Some one to finally fix this condition,
It’s nearing nine and no trace of fatigue,
It played soft ball, now in a major league
This stuff was supposed to happen years ago,
When men are young and rearing to go
All it needs, is a warm cosy place,
To enter, dead centre and win the race,
Just for this, I am willing to date
Any wretched woman in a similar state,
One who gets wet, at a touch and word,
Opens herself gently for she has been heard,
God before this day is through,
Please tell my Peter, what I am willing to do,
For I can’t go on like this through life
Each morning my body, a bundle of strife
Have mercy on me and send my way
A willing woman, looking to play
All it needs is a jolt and a tug
As I awake, a kiss and a hug
Like and Idol waiting to perform
Excited, lively early each morn
I am sure when I am dead resting at last,
This tally whacker will still be at half mast,
To show his respect to this body that endured,
Every morning a ritual...not cured
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