I know you're sick of posts from me today, but I bring poetry.
And luckily it isn't mine again, because that one went down like a sack of hammers.
Act Two - Part Two (Also known as Day 22, honest!)
The Wild Party by Joseph Moncure March
2
The only one not on hand was Kate,
She was Queenie's re-headed running-mate.
She was rakish, and tall:
Slim-legged; slim-hipped:
Naughty of eye, and expressive-lipped.
Always in vogue:
Vicious,
Capricious:
A rogue-
But her manner was gay, and delicious.
She could make a Baptist preacher choke
With laughter over a dirty joke.
A touch of flesh would drive you fey.
She could pull you in
To a state of sin
So fast it would take your breath away;
And you'd love it, and beg her to let you stay.
She had wrecked more homes
With lust's delight
Than most women could have
With dynamite.
She was cute,
Lecherous:
Lovable,
Treacherous:
And about as healthy as a cobra's bite.
"Where the hell is that dirty bum?"
Said Queenie: "She swore to God she'd come!"
At which point-
Bang! on the door.
"Come in!"
For answer, came only a high-pitched,
Thin
Laugh
Cut in half
By a scuffle outside.
Silence
"Come in!"
The door sprang wide;
And there stood Kate,
with a man by her side:
Both posing heroic;
mock-dignified.
"Ta-da!" sang Kate, clarion-toned:
"Well, Ladies
And what came with you," she droned-
"Meet what brought me in a sea-going hack:
The Boy Friend- Mister- Mister-
Black!
That's Queenie.
that's Burrs
Tha's Jackie- Am I right?
My god! There's Mae!
'Lo Mae!- I'm tight!"
Queenie came forward.
As she came, she ran her
Eye over Black in a professional manner.
He was tall; dark; heavy of shoulder:
A possible twenty-five,
No older.
Quietly, even soberly dressed;
But perfectly groomed- a habit, one guessed.
He was carelessly straight.
His eyes were bright.
His face was tanned, and his smile was white.
His features were sharply cut
And clean:
He looked sporting: he looked keen.
He made you think of squash-rackets;
Polo; and yachting;
And dinner-jackets
He had that air of poise without pose
That only a well-bred person shows.
She paused for a second.
She looked askance
At Burrs:
A swift, narrow-eyed glance.
She smiled a smile
As sharp as a file
For the fraction of a while.
Again that odd
Slight double nod.
The spurs
For Burrs!
Just what she'd wanted!
He'd try to rough her,
The bastard?
Well now she'd make him suffer!
She had planned this party to put him on the rack;
And she'd do it b making a play for Black!
Her grey eyes widened:
They grew dim.
Doubtfully, shyly, she smiled at him.
"How do you do, Mr. Black," said she:
"We're rather informal here,
As you see.
It was sweet of you to come, I think.
Burrsie- mix Mr. Black a drink."
Black said something polite: astonished.
Then:
"Please don't think me rude
If I stare-
But- your hair-!"
"Listen to me, kid!" Kate admonished:
"Keep away from that blond-headed vamp:
She was wise to herself
When your ears were damp!"
"I haven't a bit of doubt," said Black.
He grinned at Queenie,
And she smiled back-
But with eyes dark: engrossed:
As though she saw a ghost.
Her lashes drooped; made a violet stain
Under each eye, like shadows of pain.
She held it a second,
Then seemed to recover.
It was deftly done-
And it got over.
Black said nothing, but his clear eyes took
On a gentle, understanding look.
Poor Child! relentless life had used
Her Brutally, and left her Bruised!
And beautiful-
God!
She might have been
Some legendary faery queen!
She moved off;
Left him staring after.
Kate burst out in sarcastic laughter.
"Well!
My God!
After all!
Queenie takes the brass-lined shawl!
My God, though: hasn't she got the gall,
Making a play for you in that way!"
"What do you mean?" said Black:
"What play?"
"Say, kid- I wasn't born yesterday!
I like you, kid;
And I know I'm tight,
But I know what I'm talking about, all right!
An' let me tell you- she'll get hers
If she doesn't watch her step with Burrs!
See?
Let her be!
I've told you- now take it from me!"
Black said nothing, but he thought hard.
So she lived with Burrs!
He was somewhat jarred.
He looked Burrs over, and he liked his looks
About as well as a fish likes hooks.
So this was the man of her choosing?
Amusing!
His smile grew knowing:
His drink grew small:
Just a good-looking harlot, after all!
I fail at discussion today. Except to say that I am feeling like crap. Humanity 1. Me 0.
Act Two - Part Two (Also known as Day 22, honest!)
The Wild Party by Joseph Moncure March
2
The only one not on hand was Kate,
She was Queenie's re-headed running-mate.
She was rakish, and tall:
Slim-legged; slim-hipped:
Naughty of eye, and expressive-lipped.
Always in vogue:
Vicious,
Capricious:
A rogue-
But her manner was gay, and delicious.
She could make a Baptist preacher choke
With laughter over a dirty joke.
A touch of flesh would drive you fey.
She could pull you in
To a state of sin
So fast it would take your breath away;
And you'd love it, and beg her to let you stay.
She had wrecked more homes
With lust's delight
Than most women could have
With dynamite.
She was cute,
Lecherous:
Lovable,
Treacherous:
And about as healthy as a cobra's bite.
"Where the hell is that dirty bum?"
Said Queenie: "She swore to God she'd come!"
At which point-
Bang! on the door.
"Come in!"
For answer, came only a high-pitched,
Thin
Laugh
Cut in half
By a scuffle outside.
Silence
"Come in!"
The door sprang wide;
And there stood Kate,
with a man by her side:
Both posing heroic;
mock-dignified.
"Ta-da!" sang Kate, clarion-toned:
"Well, Ladies
And what came with you," she droned-
"Meet what brought me in a sea-going hack:
The Boy Friend- Mister- Mister-
Black!
That's Queenie.
that's Burrs
Tha's Jackie- Am I right?
My god! There's Mae!
'Lo Mae!- I'm tight!"
Queenie came forward.
As she came, she ran her
Eye over Black in a professional manner.
He was tall; dark; heavy of shoulder:
A possible twenty-five,
No older.
Quietly, even soberly dressed;
But perfectly groomed- a habit, one guessed.
He was carelessly straight.
His eyes were bright.
His face was tanned, and his smile was white.
His features were sharply cut
And clean:
He looked sporting: he looked keen.
He made you think of squash-rackets;
Polo; and yachting;
And dinner-jackets
He had that air of poise without pose
That only a well-bred person shows.
She paused for a second.
She looked askance
At Burrs:
A swift, narrow-eyed glance.
She smiled a smile
As sharp as a file
For the fraction of a while.
Again that odd
Slight double nod.
The spurs
For Burrs!
Just what she'd wanted!
He'd try to rough her,
The bastard?
Well now she'd make him suffer!
She had planned this party to put him on the rack;
And she'd do it b making a play for Black!
Her grey eyes widened:
They grew dim.
Doubtfully, shyly, she smiled at him.
"How do you do, Mr. Black," said she:
"We're rather informal here,
As you see.
It was sweet of you to come, I think.
Burrsie- mix Mr. Black a drink."
Black said something polite: astonished.
Then:
"Please don't think me rude
If I stare-
But- your hair-!"
"Listen to me, kid!" Kate admonished:
"Keep away from that blond-headed vamp:
She was wise to herself
When your ears were damp!"
"I haven't a bit of doubt," said Black.
He grinned at Queenie,
And she smiled back-
But with eyes dark: engrossed:
As though she saw a ghost.
Her lashes drooped; made a violet stain
Under each eye, like shadows of pain.
She held it a second,
Then seemed to recover.
It was deftly done-
And it got over.
Black said nothing, but his clear eyes took
On a gentle, understanding look.
Poor Child! relentless life had used
Her Brutally, and left her Bruised!
And beautiful-
God!
She might have been
Some legendary faery queen!
She moved off;
Left him staring after.
Kate burst out in sarcastic laughter.
"Well!
My God!
After all!
Queenie takes the brass-lined shawl!
My God, though: hasn't she got the gall,
Making a play for you in that way!"
"What do you mean?" said Black:
"What play?"
"Say, kid- I wasn't born yesterday!
I like you, kid;
And I know I'm tight,
But I know what I'm talking about, all right!
An' let me tell you- she'll get hers
If she doesn't watch her step with Burrs!
See?
Let her be!
I've told you- now take it from me!"
Black said nothing, but he thought hard.
So she lived with Burrs!
He was somewhat jarred.
He looked Burrs over, and he liked his looks
About as well as a fish likes hooks.
So this was the man of her choosing?
Amusing!
His smile grew knowing:
His drink grew small:
Just a good-looking harlot, after all!
I fail at discussion today. Except to say that I am feeling like crap. Humanity 1. Me 0.