"Poetry Star"

By Blubber McNeil



I wanna be a poetry star.
Whay aren't there any?
I mean, sure there's famous poets,
But most of them are dead.

I say it's all in the marketing.
Someone's gotta add some panache to poetry,
And I'm just the man to do it.

First of all, no berets and all-black outfits.

Spandex.


Glitter.
That's where it's at.

I'm gonna memorize my poems.
I'll just grab the mic, and start spouting.
I'll stand like buddy from Metallica,
And recite my PO-AH-TRAAEEEAYYY-ah!
Sentences will be punctuated with James Brown noises. Ungh!
I'll slam to my knees and stage hands will cover me with a red-white-and-blue cape but then I'll come running back to the mic for more, baby!
Oh yeah!
Jump back! Wanna kiss m'self!

I'll do covers.

But I'll put my own twist on them;

"In Xanadu did Kublai Kahn,
A stately pleasure-dome decree.
And everywhere that Mary went,
The lamb was sure to go."

Maybe not.

How 'bout something newer, fresher, hipper;

"Yo yo yo Kublai Muthafuckin' Kahn!
I be chillin' in yo' crib fo'evah , G!"

Boys will run around,
smashing into each other.
Girls will bounce up and down,
crying,
hoping I look at them.

For my big final number,
I'll grab a copy of my selected works,
and light it on fire.
Then I'll start throwing it against the wall.
Get the roadies to mic it.
Crank the high-end, dude!
Make that fucker squeal!
Listen to that tone!
The reverb!
And the sustain!
Oh, god, the sustain!!

THANK-YOU-TORONTO-WE-LOVE-YOU-GOODNIGHT!!!


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