Friday, May 27, 2005

Not to brag, but...

My Poetry

My poetry will kick your ass up and down the block and twice on Sundays. My poetry will smack you upside the head when you try to sass. My poetry will run over your puppy and laugh. My poetry will come late to your party, drink up all the rum and vomit in your boot. My poetry will take your blank checks from your pocket book while you're standing in line to see Star Wars. My poetry will dangle your car keys over your head and make you bark for them. My poetry visits hookers and jumps out the window before paying. My poetry has whores dressed just in high heels, corsets and bloomers chasing it down the cobblestone street. My poetry knows all the best stairwells to hide from the undercover cops. My poetry shares dirty needles. My poetry never uses a condom. My poetry kisses open mouthed, wet and sloppy. My poetry shows up to work one morning with a face tattoo. My poetry can insult your mother in 16 languages. My poetry has a 900 number. My poetry borrows your car without asking and runs it out of gas in a busy intersection. My poetry trips old ladies as they cross the street. My poetry spent some time "inside", and by inside I mean "in jail". My poetry smokes 2 packs a day. My poetry is drunk and obnoxious by noon everyday, and all day long on the weekends. My poetry rides the subway at 4AM bareassed, sits down on all the seats and wiggles. My poetry chews bubblegum flavored tabbaca. My poetry steals people's dirty underwear and stores them in a safe. My poetry lies straight to your face. My poetry can do all of you, all at once, right now.

11 comments:

Ivy said...

Rock!

Michael said...

Really Christine... While all that is true, I wish you were not quite so introverted when it comes to explaining your writing. :)

Michael

Christine said...

Ivy,

thanks! (rocker, devil horned finger signs are unavailable as emoticons)

Michael,

I'm WAY introverted. Word. hee

Jesse said...

My poetry asks your poetry out for dinner. Your poetry names the place and says "we'll meet there." My poetry arrives early and orders tea. My poetry looks at the couples sharing wine. My poetry looks out the window a lot. Your poetry shows up, looks my poetry over and makes a joke about the weather. My poetry orders the cheapest pronounceable meal. Your poetry orders a bloody mary over a fancy meal. Your poetry invites me back to your poetry's place where my poetry realizes it's forgotten it's meds at home, proceeds impromtu singing of I luv New York. Your poetry is charmed. Your poetry and my poetry have slow sex after foreplay that your poetry called victorian. My poetry stays up all night raiding your poetry's fridge while your poetry sleeps soundly. My poetry leaves around 4 a.m., takes a cab back to my poetry's place, hoping your poetry will call my poetry the next day.

Christine said...

Nice.

(sorry, but my poetry is not gonna call. It was just using your poetry.)

Ivy said...

\m/


Heh.

Christine said...

Ivy,
yes, you are a genius!

madame l. said...

nice one, w00t!

Christine said...

Thanks, Madame. I dig your blog, btw.

Sreekesh Menon said...

i'll take 2 of whatever you were on!

Christine said...

SM,

My poetry doesn't share. So you get none of what my poetry was on. ;P