The Party

The Party Everyone is festive All the ladies in pretty dresses Champagne in flutes Flirts in Armani suits Waiters and penguins Serving wine and cheeses Musicians playing tango delights Diplomats avoiding land mines and devastated sites I toast them, one and all Vodka and Russians can not dance I can drink you all, under and over Tossing empty bottles over me shoulder Pretty ladies and purple purses Drunken observations as the poet muses Who would bed me now? So drunk and wise with broken fuses No one, can see the poetic disguise Of the lonely man seeking only lies The tenderness of the Spanish kiss Hold me, dear dream, caress me inside The floor is full of empty plates The party is over, so it seems is my fate I fall asleep under a street lit lamp The richest of bums in an old cul du sac If only before that fateful day I could suckle upon the breast once more We are all infants no matter the shore Love should never have parted out that door Sanity was broken and tossed away like lore I mumbled the petty desires of the broken man I tore out my heart, bloody and beating in my hands Laid it bare upon the sands Coupled with crabs The universe re-created Eaten raw, love was consumed New beasts shall roam Sunken eyes and empty chest I, am the one who is no more Tall tails and party hats The forgotten are never fancy cats Until one day you meet the maker Of your story, cooked by the baker Ovens shall burn and choirs sing The devil you see, had the last ring