When We Hate The Same Things              [Part 1 of my Dating Trilogy]

 

An original poem by Chrome Dome Mike Kimbro

 

Consider reading along to my Spoken Verse Performance.

 

 

VERSE 1

 

Of loneliness, I’m tired and sick.

 

It’s been too long since ecstasy.

 

A dating site should do the trick,

 

That is if cupid offers clemency.

 

 

VERSE 2

 

For screwing up my last good thing.

 

I’ll admit I behaved like a turkey.

 

What ruled out giving a friendship ring?

 

The girl couldn’t stop acting so perky.

 

 

CHORUS

 

Good girl, bad girl,

 

Or a little of both,

 

To me, it doesn’t much matter.

 

 

Or if her face,

 

Has hair or a growth.

 

Or worse, if she’s mad as a hatter.

 

 

There is one test I use to surmise,

 

If I’ll be home by 10, or after sunrise.

 

And this wisdom is yours for free.

 

 

As they reveal all the things they despise,

 

If, in their enmity, I can sympathize.

 

Yeah, it makes my interest, and other parts, rise,

 

When they hate the same things as me.

 

 

VERSE 3

 

Listening to the queen of humor,

 

While dodging traffic on the freeways.

 

That rapier wit is why Amy Schumer,

 

Bats lead off in my fantasy three ways.

 

 

VERSE 4

 

OK, maybe I ought to be chasin’,

 

A slightly older sassy senora.

 

I'd go for Cate Blanchett or Marsha Mason?

 

Just not Samantha’s mom, Endora.

 

 

VERSE 5

 

But whether they’re young, or middle aged,

 

One must determine if there’s common ground.

 

And when they start speaking of wars which they’ve waged,

 

That’s the stuff that really makes my heart pound.

 

 

VERSE 6

 

The script now calls for a bottle of vino,

 

Change the topic to bizarre male behavior.

 

If one liked her less than his Ford Torino,

 

The dip shit takes the blame for that failure.

 

 

VERSE 7

 

So that passions can display like a firebird.

 

I've been know to say: "We men can be turds".

 

And if some guy went back to his ex,

 

The rage that's released is better than sex,

 

When one delights in hearing four letter words.

 

 

BRIDGE

 

If my message is somewhat of a mystery,

 

It might help to borrow from England's history.

 

 

Between Jane Seymour and Anne of Cleves,

 

Henry the 8th had a queen for a day.

 

With hips made for child birth.

 

She was strong as a Kenworth,

 

The top of the line in royal incubation.

 

 

But the problems began at the reception.

 

Where she made a few innocent statements.

 

Like: "Anne Boleyn was sweet",

 

And:  "The Pope was really neat."

 

Hearing that, Henry sought defibrillation.

 

 

Had she kept her mouth shut a few hours more,

 

We'd know of a different wife number four.

 

Or better still, if she'd said something crass.

 

Such as: "Rome can kiss my lily white ass."

 

They'd call Christina Hendricks for her impersonation.

 

 

VERSE 8

 

So guys, if the next princess you’ll anoint,

 

Must have pearly teeth, and a shapely back side.

 

IMHO, you’re missing the point.

 

The good stuff they keep hidden inside.

 

 

VERSE 9

 

And no, not what’s beneath her dress,

 

Though I’d make sure she wasn’t a dude.

 

The fact is women are at their best,

 

When they’re rockin’ some real attitude.

 

 

VERSE 10

 

While a rose bouquet’s role is above reproach.

 

A better way involves venom and spite.

 

Hear what she’s got to say, ‘bout an ex or a coach,

 

Then you’ll know if you’ve found "Ms. Right".

 

 

CHORUS

 

Good girl, bad girl,

 

Or a little of both,

 

To me, it doesn’t much matter.

 

 

Or if her face,

 

Has hair or a growth.

 

Or worse, if she’s mad as a hatter.

 

 

There is one test I use to surmise,

 

If I’ll be home by 10, or after sunrise.

 

And this wisdom is yours for free.

 

 

As they reveal all the things they despise,

 

If, in their enmity, I can sympathize.

 

Yeah, it makes my interest, and other parts, rise,

 

When they hate the same things as me.

 

 

VERSE 11

 

Sure, it might sound like I’m pushing buttons,

 

But walk a mile in my shoes, and you’ll see.

 

It’s for venomous banter that I’m a glutton,

 

If she hates the same things as me.

 

 

The End

 

 

Copyright © Michael Kimbro 2016.  All rights reserved.

 

 

PS - I sometimes include what I call "poetic remnants" following a work.  These are passages which didn't make the cut, for whatever reason.

 

Here's the poetic remnant from this poem, omitted because it was just too damned cute:

 

 

VERSE 12

 

If enough folks find this poem appealing,

 

The traffic will improve my domain metrics

 

BTW, a girl next door with unresolved feelings,

 

Is recommended, not some dominatrix.

 

 

Alright.  Thanks for your time and consideration.