I'd never censor you, nor would I trumpet
the cause of censorship. But who's the strumpet
who dragged us to the church each Sunday morn
and in the nineteen years since I've been born
(okay, well, thirty-five, but what's it matter?)
with harping, ceaseless years of moral chatter
has held her own example as a banner
for all with character of refined manner
who'd act in such a way that she's inspired?
I've come to see that woman is retired.
I never thought I'd live to see the time
when she would wallow in poetic slime.
It's not a mother I have, but a rapper.
Your moral teachings, Lady? In the crapper.
Love,
Sharon
(I'll add this disclaimer:
that I am no flamer.
...Some good-natured ribbing
at Mother's expense,
I find it quite odd, dear
to finally come here
and find her ad-libbing
in poetic tense.
At home, she's quite staunch. She
is not really raunchy!
All this "live and let living"
was unheard-of, hence.
It's not goose we're after
but well-deserved laughter;
as good as she's giving,
I mean no offense!)
[This message has been edited by Sharon (edited January 31, 2002).]
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