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Open Poetry #22
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The Party, The School, And The Drunken Floozie
| Open Poetry #22 |
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The Party, The School, And The Drunken Floozie |
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Jaime Fradera Senior Member
since 2000-11-25
Posts 843Where no tyranny is tolerable |
The Party, The School, And The Drunken Floozie 1: I'm at a loud, wild party, Like the ones we use to have In Austin at the Ark. I am growing sleepy. I hear Mother and her friend In some raucous boozy argument And decide I must go home. I walk around the room, Looking for the way outside; But I keep stumbling Over sprawled and slobbering drunks. One drunken floozie Slurs that, "honey" She will take me home. I tell her she can't do that, That I don't know who she is, That she should talk to mom Or to her friend. I am sure The security guard Is in his booth outside. I ask him Could he please call me a cab, Though unbeknownst to me No one is there; And I wait; And hours pass. 2: It is daylight. I resolve to do something, Find a tall picket fence, An follow it for quite some time. There is some commotion up ahead. I follow it And find an open gate. I wonder: Could this be a school? Then the former drunken floozie, Now presumably sober, Meets me at the gate and says: I kept you for a reason ... I say: you mean for all this time? ... She leads me To a gaggle of her children. "oh no." I think to myself. "they'll want me to perform, ... do another demonstration ..." But she says That they will sing a song. The song is a clever nursery rhyme To help the children learn All about the number one. In paraphrase it ran like this: One is "the loneliest number." One is "two divided by love." One is to be alone, And yet we are all one. And sometimes The number one is first; And sometimes, it is last ... And then, There is the Roman numeral one, The I, That sees and knows and understands. Then, after singing, The children break into applause. I tell them: That's the most amazing song I ever heard about the number one, That I wish I could have gotten it on tape. And then the children vanish. 3: She comes to me. She takes my hand, And in the grass She gently lies on top of me. And she is broad and lush. She threads her legs between my own, And I know she isn't wearing much. I wonder: What kind of school is this? ... I tell her This will take some getting use to. Sweet dreams. Jaime The last man on Earth Sat in his living room. There was a knock at the door. It was a woman! |
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Toerag Member Ascendant
since 1999-07-29
Posts 5622Ala bam a |
I've been to that party at that same school and my teacher was a floozie!! What year did you graduate?....Good write..enjoyed |
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Midnitesun
since 2001-05-18
Posts 28647Gaia |
Good morning. Knock knock. |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
Jaime, nice to be reading you again. You stay away too long from Passions...thanks for once again sharing your poems. |
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Moonlight Romeo
since 2001-09-10
Posts 982The heart of you |
What roams through the mind of the student. Thank you. What light through yon window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. |
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WhiteRose Member Elite
since 2002-07-23
Posts 3208somebody's dungeon |
This was an interesting piece. Nice work. |
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ThisDiamond Member Rara Avis
since 2002-02-22
Posts 9353Michigan, USA |
Unique style...interesting and raw... Enjoyed. ThisDiamond |
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