Thursday’s Poetry Party:
Blank verse from Grace Jones
Because the children may have forgotten
J’en ai marre of your theatrics.
Your acting’s a drag.
It’s okay on TV, but you can turn it off.
* * * * *
Louder, can you hear me?
We’re what’s happening!
Nightclubbing, nightclubbing,
We’re an ice machine.
We see people–brand new people.
They’re something to see.
We’re nightclubbing,
Bright-white clubbing.
Oh isn’t it wild?
* * * * *
In your long black limosine.
Pull up to my bumper baby,
And drive it in between.
* * * * *
Feeling like a woman,
Sounding like a no-no,
Mating when I can,
Whistling in the darkness,
Shining in the night,
Coming to conclusions,
Right is night is tight,
Walking, walking,
In the rain.
* * * * *
Call the police!
You’re bigger than I am! Shit!
The telephone–call the goddamn police!
What do you mean you’re scared?
I’m scared too, I’m not going down there!
Uh-uh, I’m staying right here, I’m gonna lock my door!
Don’t turn on the lights! God, don’t turn on the lights!
He might see us!
You can’t go out there with no clothes on! Are you crazy?
Put some clothes on! Don’t be a fool, coward!
I’m not scared!
He’s not gonna’ catch me in here without any clothes on!
I’m gonna put on my clothes.
Do you have a flashlight?
Where’s the flashlight?
Turn the lights on, I need a flash light!
He’s trying the back door! SHHHHH!
* * * * *
And one for the francophiliacs:
Je t’aime, toujours, il faut toujours.
Alors pars, tire-toi!
Ca va, pars. Qu’est-ce que tu dois faire? Alors pars.
Ca va bien, pas de probleme, pars.
Mais, reviens a moi, alors pars.
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