Meet me in the love room

Today's drunk poetry is best read while listening to Yello's "Oh Yeah" from the Ferris Bueller soundtrack.

Dianasaurus Ross

In the good old days

there were no people.

Just long necks

and three horns

And love?

Never measured

in shitty wax chocolates.

No sir.

you could say it all

with tree stars,

finding your way to the GV,

where love blooms

under the sweet shade

of Diana Ross’s

massive fro

(she’s really old).

Oh, yeah…

So I have this friend. He's a very sexual person (not a bad thing, usually), and apparently he always has been. When he was about 6-years-old, he had a favorite stuffed animal - Littlefoot from TLBT. It was a very attractive stuffed animal. Very plush and snuggly. So lovable, in fact, that after a while, Littlefoot developed severe scoliosis from my friend's intensive cuddling. But that was okay because it was from love.

One day my friend's mother was cleaning up his bedroom. My friend was going to get around to it, but his mother was being unreasonably impatient about it, so she had taken matters into her own hands - much to her regret...

While she was cleaning, she came across a little note on the floor next to my friend's bed. It read exactly as follows:

"Littlefoot,

meet me in the love room.

SEX"

Now, rather than appreciating her son's advanced spelling skills, she got very flustered, full of parental concern. She burst into the living room where my friend was happily watching Eureka's Castle.

"What is this?" she asked, waving the note in the air.

My friend tried to play it cool. "It's just from a game I was playing."

"'Littlefoot, meet me in the love room. SEX.'???" she read the note out loud. "What kind of game were you playing, and where did you get the idea to play it!?"

My friend began to panic. "That's not what it says!" he cried, blushing. He pointed out that the "X" in "SEX" was clearly just a lower-case "t" that had gone a little wonky.

"It says 'SEt' - like a TV SEt! We were just going to watch TV!"

"In the love room?"

"...It says 'SEt'! Not the other word!"

"Yes, but why in the love room?"

"I don't know, that's just what it says!"

"But why did you write it!?"

"...Look, it's just a 't'!"

After a few more minutes of this back and forth, my friend still refused to back down from his explanation. His mother eventually gave up, and she probably spent the next ten years in fear that her son had a sexual interest in dinosaurs.

Fortunately, my friend's exploits in the love room with Littlefoot came to an end. It was just a phase. He has since moved beyond dinosaurs and has now settled on a sexual interest in other men. Especially if they are men wearing dinosaur costumes.

Sucky sober poetry

I still occasionally write sober poetry, and again I will emphasize the suckiness of this poetry compared to my drunk poetry. In case you do not believe me, I am going to prove it to you.

First this preface: Most of the sober poetry I write is part of this exchange I have going on with my mother. Every week, one of us picks out 3 words, and we both have to use those words in a poem. On Sundays, we email each other whatever we've come up with (awwww, I know, it's very sweet).

A couple weeks ago, I picked the words "combustion," "Russian," and "womanly" for our poems. Don't ask me why I chose them - they just came to me. Here's the piece of crap sober poem that I wrote. I didn't even title it because it's so shitty.

Combustion, combustion,
light it up like a matchstick
and smoke over the broad view-
the womanly landscape,
thick trunks of white Russian pine
still drunk on the
last licks of winter.
Let it fester and smolder
in the blurry forgettable background,
poking and prodding and stoking-
oblivious to the woman's swiveling hips
until she kicks you in the groin
with her back-draft.

Um, just a sec - I'll be right back. I just have to go puke a little bit...

Okay, I'm back. You agree with me, right? Call the janitor, because that poem was absolutely vomitrocious. Now for the drunk version. I still used the 3 poetry assignment words, but in way that is the opposite of sucky (aka AWESOME):

Sexy Time?

Combustion!

It’s all in the making-

My triumphant mechanics

And your

Respective

Womanly

Parts.

We fit like

Shapes in a baby’s puzzle.

We’ll have babies!

With Russian noses

And your…

Skin.

You have good skin.

What?

That doesn’t go there?

So this is what it feels like

To go spelunking…

Okay, so,

I may have lied about the combustion.