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A Drunk Man...A Drunk Man Reads French Poetry for Open Mic Night
A-ahem! Good evening open mic night, are you
ready to rock? I will now read you, no
shut up, Arthur, I can hear you talking
back there! Sorry. I will now read a poem
by, uh...what the f...Arthur, what is this?
A poem by, uh, the guillotine of Apollo.
Anyway, here goes, so shut up and quit laughing.
Moon, I'm half fluent, less lucid, or demonic,
urges and verges long since past, slurring
the stars, or, well, I figure they're bells.
Ya see, everything's lighter after drinks (only
had three, thanks) and voices are loud as sky tombs--
see, told ya moonlight's a mile long pole of light--
and sometimes they find a third voice and go on adventures.
God, I'm tired, and it's dark--what was I saying, Arthur?
What? I can't hear you over these lights, deca-decad, uh...
pretty sweet. The lights, they're pretty sweet, like a rose
trapped in an air vent, or something.
I really hope you all got a kick out of that, because
I sure as hell won't r