Mark R Slaughter
The Dream Of Angelina - Poem by Mark R Slaughter
Angelina Jolie pulled me down and kissed me slowly
As she ran her hands all over lucky me.
She whispered in my ear: ‘I want you naked, do you hear? ’
And then mutated as she spouted: ‘'ere’s yer tea! ’
Oh no, it was a dream, so very lucid and serene!
And me missus goes and wakes me just for this:
A bleedin’ cup of tea – yes I know, ungrateful me –
I should be thankful for my years of wedded bliss.
But this was Angelina, not a bowl of semolina –
We were getting hot and steamy on the sofa.
Her lips were all a’ pouting, ‘Angie, Angie! ’ I was shouting
And my hand was moving in to flippin’ grope her!
Now every night and every day, I would beg and cry and pray,
‘Angelina please come back – look just don’t quit.’
So did she? Don’t be daft! And my wife? Well she just laughed!
‘Cos every night she dreams she's bonking Bradley Pitt!
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