Cliff here. I know you read the title and thought, “WTF?! Men don’t write poetry!” Simply the fact that your mind works in internet chat shorthand makes me think, “OMFG! ROFLMAO, and you can LMMFBS!” Just for reference the last two letters in that tirade mean “ball sack”. Sound it out.

Just so you know, men DO write poetry. Poets get tail. I’m not talking about the pasty, whining, “woe is me” sons of bitches that use writing as a means of getting in touch with themselves , nature, or another man. I’m talking about the real men who happen to have some literary skill. Ralph Waldo Emerson’s second wife called him Mr. Emerson. Let me say that again. His WIFE called him MR. EMERSON. Go home and try telling your she-hag that she has to speak to you as if she’s your secretary. She’ll slap you in the face with your own scrote, then tell you about the affair she’s been having with your brother AND sister. You, my friend, need to learn to write some poetry.

Let’s get a few things straight. I’m not asking you to pour out your feelings onto paper, weeping the whole time. Consider poetry to be just another tool in your arsenal, kind of like an elephant gun. It’s heavy, ironic, and kind of silly, but it packs one hell of a punch. It’s probably not the ideal weapon to go hunting bunnies, but if you want to take down some tougher game it’s not a bad idea to take it along. Your tiny little pee-shooter (the spelling is intentional) just isn’t gonna cut it this time.

The entire purpose of poetry is to take an average woman and reduce her to a naïve, doe-eyed girl within the course of a few lines. Keep it short, you’re already stretching the bounds of credibility by proving you can write, anyway. Shoot for four lines, or a maximum of six, and break it up into two paragraphs, or stanzas for your fairy literary purists. The reason you want two stanzas is simple: good things come in twos. Breasts and nuts both spring to mind. You want her thinking about her paired goodies as well as yours, because in a few minutes you’ll be asking her to do things with both bodies that she would never normally do.

Go big or go home. If you think it’s a cheesy, steaming mess of horse dung, that’s because it is. You haven’t pushed it far enough. Spread it on like whipped cream-can you really OVERdo it with whipped cream? Doubtful. Use lustfully descriptive words like “slam”, “pleasurable”, and “lubricated thighs”. Poetry doesn’t have to rhyme, it just has to sound ridiculous to your man ears. Women think it makes you intellectual, men know it’s a slightly convoluted way to get her naked. These are important things to know.

Maybe most importantly, though, tell a story with your words. You want your stupid little poem to make her crave your flaccid, colorless body. Direct her to let her mind wander over the possibilities. Point her mind in the right direction, then kick it in the ass, sending it stumbling drunkenly towards the possibility of sleeping with you. Poetry gets women emotionally involved in your words, causing them to do things that will make their friends squirm in disgust. That’s the point of this exercise.

One good way to throw this crap out is to act like you’re improvising on the spot. Look into her eyes and throw your steaming pile of garbage right down her throat. I’m gonna wrap this up with a little poetry sample I’ve used dozens of times. It works on that quiet girl you can’t seem to get out of her shell. She’s a tricky breed, but once those horn-rimmed glasses come off, she will leave you chapped, chafed and begging for more. Pour on the broken hearted angst, and see how quickly that hair bun comes down. Try this out.

Sunlight exploding, my eyes can see.
Experience your beauty, bathe in your glory.
Last night is a dream, fades so sweet
Afterglow, stains on your sheets.
I’ll call you, don’t call me,
I don’t deserve your majesty.
Tell your sister I hope she heals up nicely.

If that doesn’t work for you, it’s most likely because you didn’t sell it. That’s a poem I wrote, and was taken directly from my experiences. I DO hope her sister healed up. I really put the screws to that chick.