Party, people poem

This weekend gone by has been great.
I wondered if the more you exercise and put muscles on the outside of yourself, for others to see; if somehow you lessened your internal muscles. Your ability to voice, and adventure forth in an enjoyable verbal sense.
I feel that when I’m at the gym my self talk is very high.
I observe people, and I create in my mind what they might be thinking.
“What are they doing?” – Then I project, indeed I create and fantasize.
I’m really not sure how in tune I am with the movement of some people.
The sexiest part of a person is their back.
Their lower back.
If you can make your lower back look good, I will follow you to the depths.
Aye Inferno.
The movie.
Dante’s dirty dealings.
Fantasy, beauty, loath and love.
What an adventure.
Circles and circles.
Why not triangles; looking down from above this would almost make sense.
Semanitics, constructs. Pentagrams, shapes, codes and violence.

Yes. What lengths will these people go to, to live.
To save the lives of others.
The high horse.
The ticking clock, the forestalling of humanity’s growing poplualtion.
The scar, the stagnation. Swamped. Idyllic.
Crazed.
But humaity will survive. Even if the bad thing happens.
What will follow will be unique to the time, and will influence the once consciousness.
We can all take action.
Employ morals.
Hope for the powers we’ve leashed the control- that they will do enough right by us.
If not then we will rally. Won’t we?
The power of pain for influencing behaviour.
Morals. And women in roles of power.
The funniest moment for me was when the professor says:
“Ask that guy, and its a woman”. Trig.

So I went to a 90’s party.
There was dancing on tables, choker chains, lots of denim, spice girls, backstreet boys… the whole she-bang. It was a good old time. Danced like a mad man, with an exam the next morning. Stuck it out until 1am. Then off to bed. The girls had a sparkle in their eyes, the boys were gesticulating.
Some guys threw ice at the bar tender – it was strange, he got very angry.
Who cared? Not me, so much.
The frenchyz showed up late.
I went to my room and studied.
Everyone came by my room and caused a rucus over the next 2 hours.
I went to bed, ready for the next day.
Black + White and a grey tie. What a look.
Probably lost on everyone that day.

That afternoon I went for a heroic run, new shoes. Record times.
Then the 1xPunch Man training regime.
100
100
100
Then another party. We played the coin game.
Tooney flick.
Two finger hockey.
People were calling me “Australia”.
I didn’t really like it.
My corked wine was from Chile and disgusting.
I sat and chatted. Got comfortable.
One of the girls was in translation, and there was a girl that was struggling to get my jokes, actually a few of them really struggled. The scary vegan that looked me up and down; the hostility, the fakeness, it made me squirm. The old fight of flight.
I could have jocked her. But that’s not party vibes, somebody should have told her.
I wan’t in the mood. So I pleasantly asked her opinion. She cracked. I cracked her. It was all a big farcical mask. I didn’t appreciate it. But I wore my own well.
No cracks there, just wise-cracks.
And the jokes, oh the jokes. What came to the fore. The good the bad the ugly.
“Deep and meaningful”.
-the anime section.
-spiders.
-Hair
-Languages.
-The U.N.
-Strip clubs
-Exes
-Decoration
– there was a bit of sharing, I tried to include a lame couple; to everybody’s detriment. Why do I bother. Not to worry.

The next day it snowed.
I made a snow man.
Somebody kicked his head off, not one hour later.
Carrot and all, sprayed across the front garden.
Sick.

Forward the light brigade!
Was there a man dismayed?
Not though the soldiers knew
Someone had blundered:
Their’s not to make reply.
There’s not to reason why.
Their’s but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s