S enters the blog/blag world.

Never thought it would come to this, S is blagging. Oh well... here we go. An old poem to get us started:

Plus-que-parfait

That’s right, I’m the plus-que-parfait-kind-of-guy,
my best friend is my black stallion Arrogance.
Believe it’s true (the perfect never lie).

When hung-over, I bake poetry into a blueberry-pie
to get beautiful people to flock around my chateau entrance
— that’s right, I’m the plus-que-parfait-kind-of-guy.

And when I bake, I get real sensitive and I cry,
like girls who see me surfing without my pants,
believe it’s true (the perfect never lie).

On our second date, I’ll resculpt you The David on a starlit sky.
Michelangelo himself taught me how to move my hands,
that’s right, I’m the plus-que-parfait-kind-of-guy.

I love ballet, opera, I sing - really boy-band high.
When I meditate, I do it in a Nihonjin-stance,
believe it’s true (the perfect never lie).

When god asks me, “how do You make a woman cry?”
I answer – I just dump her, if she can’t dance… (then she can’t romance).
That’s right, I’m the plus-que-parfait-kind-of-guy,
believe it’s true (the perfect never lie).

                                                            — S

: 24 May 2007 01:31 |  Tags: Poetry |  Comments (0) |  Report a problem