Ugh! Another of his Jokes.

A woman meets a man in a bar.

They talk; they connect; they end up leaving together. They get back to his place and
as he shows her around his apartment, she notices that one wall of his bedroom is
completely filled with soft, sweet, cuddly teddy bears.

There are three shelves in the bedroom, with hundreds and hundreds of
cute, cuddly teddy bears carefully placed in rows, covering the entire wall! It was
obvious that he had taken quite some time to lovingly arrange them, and she was
immediately touched by the amount of thought he had put into organizing the display.
There were small bears all along the bottom shelf, medium-sized bears covering the length
of the middle shelf, and huge, enormous bears running all the way along the top shelf.

She found it strange for an obviously masculine guy to have such a
large collection of Teddy Bears,She is quite impressed by his sensitive side, but doesn't
mention this to him. They share a bottle of wine and continue talking and, after awhile,
she finds herself thinking, "Oh my God! Maybe, this guy
could be the one! Maybe he could be the future father of my children?"
She turns to him and kisses him lightly on the lips. He responds warmly. They continue
to kiss, the passion builds, and he romantically lifts her in his arms and carries her into
his bedroom where they rip off each others clothes and make hot, steamy love.
She is so overwhelmed that she responds with more passion,
more creativity, and more heat than she has ever known.

After an intense, explosive night of raw passion with this sensitive guy, they are lying
there together in the afterglow. The woman rolls over, gently strokes his chest and asks
coyly, "Well, how was it?"

The guy gently smiles at her, strokes her cheek, looks deeply into her eyes, and says:

"Help yourself to any prize from the middle shelf."

Sarah Silverman humor

 My favorite Sarah Silverman jokes:
 

"I drank and smoked during pregnancy and then I read the pamphlet and called my mom and said, 'Don't bother to knit the sleeves.' "

"I never got attention from guys, and then the old story, I got the braces off ... my legs."

"My friend said, 'You have to read this book; it's a page turner. I said, '”Well, I know how books work."

“My friend was told by her doctor that she was morbidly obese ... as if she doesn't have enough on her plate.”

"Women reach their sexual peak after 35 years ... men after four minutes."

"I've always wanted to own a maternity shop. I'd call it:” We're Fucked!"

Used Poem VI

    Requiem for a Mind

Hands trembling hold the chair
Across her forehead knots of hair
Concealed her dying brain within,
Each tiny cell a requiem.

The vigorous spark of life no more.
Each dendron slack, still, a silent door;
Behind the curve of cranial bone
Knowledge lies without a home

The mind that once directed one,
Decisive action planned and done,
Now thrashes in ragged disarray
To dull her glance with sad dismay.

This central power, this wondrous map
Of buzzing chemistry and magnetic zap
Will die and so, too, end all her confusion.
Her life gone, so then that mind’s occlusion.

DNJ

Used Poem V

Foster Woman             

Her needful body’s chain of custody 
Was often passed around.
And she sometimes called herself 
The Isle of Man. 

Her magic, bold and Circean eyes   
Promised a warm harbor.
She bid the Manships berth
To offload generous seed.

Not one of these off-loaded vessels
Stayed beyond a night.    
She only paused at each
To accept proffered bounty.

She said she only found
The life she needed.
She said she never found
The life she wanted. 

DNJ                     

Used Poem IV

Two Different Worlds

The boy was sure of something,
She was just the one.
The girl was sure of nothing,
Her life had just begun.

For him, he'd found his partner,
There was never any doubt.
For her, he was fine for now,
But there was more to learn about.

He thought it was a perfect start,
Something bound to surely grow.
She thought it may be but a pause,
But had no words to tell him so.

DNJ

Used Poem III

Silence Is The Perfect Answer

For days, she painted blue.
She painted until she was drunk with blue,
Until lines grew thick, like Picasso’s blue—
Not bones, but the shadows of bones
In desert's harsh light. 

She was painting in the place of making
And unmaking. Everything spilled 
Open, tugging loose, breaking the dry river
Stones until their geode hearts bled, not red,
But with the cerulean she chose to use. 

She heard the hawk cry thief, thief, 
Marking the air. In the silence after, 
She could almost trace the sound
Back to the beginning, to blue lines, 
Liquid with light, She named them. 

The Canyon. The Sediment. The Layers of Rock. 
Then she dropped the hawk’s feather from high 
Above and waited for the echo when it touched 
The canyon floor. She waited forever and forever 
And forever. No echo ever came.

DNJ

Used Poem

Sometimes In Late Evening

When the quiet is the rule, I can
sense
some sounds inside me. Always the
feral
voice of a woman. A woman wild, not
tamed.

Loving her was easy. What is it, I
wonder,
that we had before but have no more?
Why
is it we were one before and are no
more?

It seemed perfect to be alive back
then.
In time, it might be scant memory’s
trace.
But always in quiet, the voice will be
hers.

DNJ