Moe Szyslak's Romantic Poems for the Lazy Lover

Moe Szyslak's Romantic Poems for the Lazy Lover is poems by Moe in Homer Simpson's Little Book of Laziness.

Poems

The greatest gift

I look around in vain for a gift worthy of my love for you.

TV remote,

Ashtray,

Footstool...

That lamp don't suck too bad.

Then it his me like the base you thre last spring.

The greastest gift I could give?

This here poem.

It belongs to you now.

Though I still hold the copyright.

Happy birthday, hon.

The goal

My goal in life,

In love,

In whaterver it is that you and me got,

Is to serve you,

To delight you,

To make your dreams come true.

Pass your heart to me,

And i promise to run with it,

Held tight against my own.

Though tackled, I will never fumble.

Though on my fourth down, I will never punt

Though penalized, I will return to the frag,

More determined than ever to reach that goal,

By the way, the game is on.

Could you make it your goal to keep the chattiness down

And fix me a sandwich?

Morning after #27

Socks and bras and skivvies,

Like steeping-stones

Between toilet and mattress.

White sheet tangle,v

Moist with sweat.

Half-empty cartoons,

Soy and silver noodle,

Chopsticks akimbo.

The memory of our lust

Hangs pungent in the darkened room.

Please clean up

Before you leave.

Here's lookin' at you

You and me, wea agreed to call it quites

Then by chance I saw you with the weasel-facked jerk

A beast with two backs

Glowing in the light of the street lamp

Outside your bedroom window

As my loafers turned your petunias into dirt salad

The bile rose in my throat

Like a dead roach to the top of a pickled jear.

Hot rage smacked the back of my skull,

Took the express down my spine and into my stomach,

Makin' me hungry for the Saturday Night Special.

Then a cop siren screamed my name,

Far away, but close enough to samck away the crazy.

Sorry, baby, you ain't worth doin' no jail time for.

You have a nice life.

The debt

You say I owe you

For making you watch cars transform into giant metal gods.

You say I owe you

For showing you ahandsome heroes, shaken but not stirred,

In masks and capes and armor, giving evil a holy beat down.

Before your baby blues

Zombies, aliens, time-traveling robots, and still I owe you.

Impossible missions, human cetinipedes, and still I owe you.

Barbarians, Bournes, and Bilbos, and still I owe you.

Date night, here at last--

What chick flick, Streeped in Meryl and Meg and McConaughey,

Will erase my blockbuster debt?

What eating and pryaing and loving snoozefest must I endure

To settle the score and remove the frost from your soft shoulder?

But wait, some other time.

Gout's flarin' up, so I gotta get off my feet and in fron of the tube.

Ooh, Schwarzenegger marathon on TBS...

Don't leave.

I'll make it up to you.

Don't go.

Oh well...

Hasta la vista, baby!