Silly but sincere Pt. 3 How not to get a date at match dot com

Kind cute considerate but confused creative craftsman, prolific poet….seeks?

Indy car chauffeuse, adventurous librarian, helicopter aviatrix, lady oilcatter, erudite ecdysiast, or…fill in the blanks!

Don’t know if you’ve read my prior wild weird spiels,
But I promise you this: I’m trying to get real

Tried many approaches, all things under the sun
Still seeking my goddess, so I’m back to square one

Need more strata-gems for gals who are looking
So, put back the pot on the stove for slow cooking

I’ve got many interests, but can doubt myself
I’ll let my mate mold me -- or just stay on the shelf

About basic needs you need never panic
I save, plan and list; I’m a real good mechanic

Hey, google Pygmalian and you’ll come to learn
This guy Liza Doolittle needs your feminine charm

I’m a one woman man, no way I’m a player
But I can accept, sometimes gals like to wander

Some say my weight’s low, my sideburns too long
I might shave and bulk up if you sing the right song

My age is not really one hundred two one:
I’m as old as the hills and the sun is my son

Still can remember smoky steam-loco trains
And propellers, round engines, on the wings of airplanes

I take lots of photos and write music too
Stored on USB drives I’ve got up the wazoo

From time to time, suffer creative blockage
Can be cured quick by ladies in black silk stockings

To this cyberspace I’m no come-lately-Johnny,
Learned HTML near the start of the party

I believe in Kris Kringle, God and Planet Pluto
My favorite ballhawk? Yankee shortstop Rizzuto

My late Aunt’s a green ghost who lurks in my trees
And sings “katy-did” till the hours are wee

And lately it seems I wake up at five-thirty
Weird words in my head like the song of a birdy

‘Cos here in the springtime, things come on in a rush
Orioles, cherry trees and one hermit thrush

My tree house surrounded by moccasin orchids
Is not safe for rotweilers, nor buzzards, nor some kids

Its got a thirty foot long living room
And a propane gas oven that starts with a boom

Insides could use dusting; the siding needs bleaching
I designed it and built it it – ya think overreaching?

Got so many feeders its like hummingbird nation
(I work hard at writing and stock speculation)

The suction cup soap dish in the shower keeps falling
(Well, just use the shelf and quit all of your bawling)

Must wind up this story, have to cease this polemic
Gotta go get some breakfast before I’m hypo-glycemic

I’m seeking a deal that is perhaps platonic
What the heck -- let’s try moronic, satanic, demonic,

Chemistry’s curious, you just can’t predict
What truly will happen when lives interdict

I’m hoping these mere words will bring Lady Luck
‘Cos watching the Derby solo sorta s*cks

Now all this vain strutting’s a mere peacock pose
From a writer entombed beneath layers of prose

For, behind all this rhyme stands just a sole man
Who’s trying to live life the best way he can.

Rocker rap rhyme . Pt. 2 How not to get a date at match dot com

ROCKER NOT RAPPER SEEKS…

er..ah..adventurous librarian, maybe?

Now I ain’t a rapper no doubt about that
No cruise pimped out lowride no wear backwards hat
All my tats are in fanzines and my biceps big guns
And I know how do a lot more than dry runs
‘Cos in all this Match noise gotta get your attention
If I’m just a nice guy I won’t even get mentioned
I’ll bust out my brain and play hurdy gurdy
For a fine foxe with pulse who’s the far side of thirty
There must be someone out there in the land of TV
That’s not so afflicted with cee-fids or ADHD
Lady Gaga she’s taken and so is Rhianna
Need fresh new wild talent as my second banana
Bulimic dyslexic is what I seek in a mate
And technical German -- can you please translate?
I eat roast tom turkey with all of the fixings
And super-hot tantric-trained video vixens
Who’ll water my gate just like Richard M. Nixon
(Hey that last rhyme’s an extra, got a double caboose)
(Yes, royalties paid fully to the late Dr. Suess)
I’m easy to please, I think you’ll find, toots
Got no problem at all with fake chests or dyed roots
Chargoggagoggmanchauggagoggchaubunagungamaugg is the lake off my porch
My maid’s named Morticia, my butler is Lurch
I pillage, I plunder, I bilk and I loot
I Chippendale dance wearing just cowboy boots
I eat franken food, empty calories, trans fats
To disguise my chrome dome I doff ten gallon hats
Lost my hair and my mind, lost my marbles, my car keys
I think hugging trees is a bunch of malarkey
I break all the blue laws, stiff clients, trample orchids
I hate dogs, break dates and am allergic to most kids
I hate sleazy lawyers and lying politicians
Plus sweet breads, fried liver and da missionary position
Low self esteem, credit score and emotional IQ
My bad requisites will make your brain barbeque
My favorite role models? Howard Hughes, Scrooge McDuck
And still love old girlfriends Betty Boop, Clara Cluck
If I were a duck then I’d be a merganser
If you are my babe you’ll be good at pole dancing
I prefer the name devil, over mephistopheles
For a truly bad girl I’ll go great lengths to please
Okay full disclosure – divorce decree’s final
And all my old records are made out of vinyl
My age is two decades past one hundred years
And when I’m upset, expect crocodile tears
Let me dig your stilettos, red lipstick, mascara
Like airplane nose art from the Art Deco era
Hey, hop on my sled and we’ll go out bar hopping
But know it’s a rare bird, not merely a Harley
There’s no kicker on it, just starts with a button
But still manual trans, at least better than nothing
This “plane’ need a very long runway of tarmac
But once it starts flyin’ you’ll get such a pay back
Bad's the new good and haughty is naughty
Trashy’s so rude on your heavenly body
I can say with conviction and even some pathos
I even dig ladies from the island of Lesbos
If you want a white “knight” tell el sol not to sunset
But check out my bytes for a hint of what you’ll get
Safe and secure is for what we‘re all looking
Hey leave me alone, in the kitchen, I’m cooking
Now if you’re totally repelled by this here untuneful ditty
Never fear, ‘cos its mere repartee that’s maybe, hopefully, witty
It’s no more serious than the Fed’s Ben Bernanke
But hey pass it up if you wanna really be cranky
If ya think this ain’t put-on and I’m really not jokin
Gotta bridge wanna sell you in da boro of Brooklyn
And if you still think that I’m telling the truth
Please know I can’t tell hip-hop from George Herman Ruth
By the way I hate rap, no kidding, I’m real serious
And movies with drift cars – think The Fast and The Furious
Now all kidding aside, and be that as it may
I write tons of words but have nothing to say
I hope you’ll acknowledge as linguist I’m cunning
Plus I wear SPF ninety nine when I’m sunning
Wo -- the lengths I will go to, to find the right female
Hey maybe just one will be brave enough to email...

(rev 2 – typo fix, spell check, tie straighten, wall eyes uncrossed