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Welcome, ladies and gentlemen.

You can leave your luggage with my butler here.

You won't be needing them anytime soon, methinks.

I shall be your host, and tonight's entertainment.

Leave your shoes outside, step in, come, don't be shy.

Mind your head, and stay close to me.


*Only for those whose age is 18 and above. You've been warned.*

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Midnight Theater, 16 - 10 - 2008

Poet


Man

Here’s a toast to you –

A mead; a contract of love, concocted from lavender,

roses,

mistletoes,

and the blood of a crow –

my Hera,

my Aphrodite,

my Athena,

My Goddess.


Woman

Hera’s a bitch, a possessive insecure woman

Aphrodite’s beauty is beyond comparison; but that is all there is to it

Athena is a stubborn woman; a mule. A stone.

And I am no Goddess.


Man

You are the four seasons, then.

As warm as a summer breeze,

As beautiful as the colour of spring,

As mesmerizing as the falling leaves of autumn

And as hypnotizing as the snow of winter


Woman

A summer breeze dries my skin,

The colour of spring hurts my eyes,

The falling leaves is a nuisance,

And winter is cold.


Man

Well then, in the absence of

A better way to describe what you are

To me,

I will say, nay, I say it now,

With the weight of my heart on its back;

You are,

My love, my life.

And these words I convey to you,

For you make me feel

Like I want to be

A better man.


Woman

But that word is so beautiful.

For you – in the absence of

A better way to describe what you are –

Are my spring, my autumn, my summer,

And my winter.

You are

My love, my life

A better man you will be, aye

But a different man you will not.

Because I love you

Just the way you are,

My poet.


Poet

Then allow your most humble alleged poet

To give you my greatest gift.

It may not be much,

But it is the best this man can do.

Allow me to tell you a story, love.

A love story.

Listen closely.

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