Mud-wrestling the bride
Lamenting loud and wide
All of the stuff implied:
The wax, the weed, the cyanide.
No bruises that will show.
And still an inner glow
But still you do not know:
The flak, the fuel, the quid-pro-quo.
All the little secrets and the toys
All the little tricks that ... time destroys
Don't bother me so much.
I tell you such,
Such are the Joys
The liquids that remain.
The Armagnac and rain
Leave quite a livid stain
(I will not bother to explain).
These ample plates of food
This quite delicious mood,
There's no need now to brood
On things with wings and attitude.
All the recreation and the noise
All the little tricks the flesh employs:
You say they are a crutch
But I tell you such...
Such are the Joys
Me and my anima
Try to examine her:
Her core, her lamina,
Her lips, her locks, her stamina
The AmDram in the rain.
The melancholy Dane
These tableaux will remain
And animate the helpless brain
There is a vast supply
Of things that dream and die
And couple up and cry
Beneath a katabatic sky
Some shabby revelry.
This low spec devilry:
Not what I'd thought would be
The Photoshop that rendered me...
If some of your illusions
Start to annoy:
Have a little word:
Send round the Boys.
Innocent as such
Quite sticky to touch
...Such are the Joys.
Innocent as such...
...Such are the Joys.
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