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Keith J Collard Aug 2012
Colonial mansion, in an ocean of grass,
windows aglow as I walk past.
funeral service now used of verandah,
but I hear music, not mournful stanza.
french doors open to a reminisce,
with boyhood heart, of vitreous.

Footfalls on parquet floors,
tux and gown past crown moulded doors.
captured ambiance of a setting sun,
shown from chandeliers highly hung,
day I was born, born the day of prom,
I smiled cordially, and my date fawned.

Girls betrothed by corsage on wrist,
rare french curls--a lunar eclipse.
bedraggled boys now dapper and genteel,
vest and bow-tie, a knightly feel.
chapperesses smiling at maidenly gait,
happy drowse in  mansion estate.

Cuff-links, silk gloves, nail polish of gloss,
beheld tonics and sweets, carefully aloft.
opening cord, an arrow from cupid's bow,
striking coquettes to their tippy toes.
they sprang to dance,I stepped back,
invisible in shadow with tux of black.

Shoulders, lake ripples easing to shore,
hips, gentle waves, right before they pour.
boys stiff, as if waists beheld sabers,
legs, sweeping brooms of on shore waiters.
"your too handsome to stay here unseen,"
said rivaling chaperess, past semblance of queen.

"You should dance ,"said glittered lips of pink,
bent like sparrow wings, during teacup drink.
privy to why in shadow I hid my blush,
her class my crush, that crushed me so much.

She strained me, even the shadows she gave,
black silk, stretching,--convex and concave.
crude metal and wood classroom seat,
clasped her waist of slender physique.
she was guarded by a window in curtain mail,
and tended to by servants of light and gale.
light loved her skin of Mediterranean sand,
and wind enthralled by each and every brown strand.

Light penetrated strands, blondly hot,
wind would blow, cooling pony tail off.
her shadow curtsied under my desk,
long legs danced in irritableness.
mourning class is abuzz with scent of prom,
flower not frost, rules the school's dawn.

I gave my consent, to an earlier invite,
then on, suitor blinded me with light.
and Great Gatsy, and looming prom night,
subjects of sparrow wings pressed tight.
" show of hands, who do not have a date?"
slender wrist arises, from an arm curvate.

alone, she shown that no one asked her,
this stone of Rome amongst boys of plaster.
hand fell with boy of teachers match,
wind shrouded her,from the window sash
rays gave discomfort,to gaze her way,
but I looked through burning ray--

To see a trace of a tear,in eyes ovate,
a goddess unsought, with sadful face.
I, poor, fatherless, could not possibly go,
to prom with princess of arched portico?
I could not interweave my hands to dance,
or know where I could place my glance.

Wind blew a scrap from her desk, indiscreet,
it was pierced by light at my feet.
"will" and "with" were dotted with a heart,
"prom" and "me" before most painful part.
my name in her beautiful free hand,
the color red from hearts inkstand.

(Class bell rings) I travel over star lit lawn,
the music gets louder as I return to prom,
eyes turn to cotton, in shadow as I ponder,
as pain was forgotten, I came upon her.
invisible hands, lifted my chin to a red shape,
our eyes met, her's smiling, mine agape.

Only a glass-maker could imagine my sight,
seeing hot curves form in dance floor light.
only a wax-wing could have rivaled her eyes,
waves gently broke to gown down her thighs.
"will you dance with me,"she softly entreated,
" I don't know how,"a coward repeated.

A princess which tournaments were held,
for which every timber of mansion were felled.
not for Rome the mansion's Corinthian column--
--for her--from quarry prom did befall them.
I could not tarnish this feminine form,
with my lineage in crown she adorned.

I turned from beauty, to dark acres tread,
under willow, I play the last thing she said--
my name--as I shunned from last chance,
now back under willow, cane marks my stance.
I have preserved her forever, shying fate,
even if it was with my own heart-break.

I still see her--in the most beautiful prom poses--
--still--as lights flicker out and a coffin closes.
The Pansies curtsied deeply, in their flouncy purple dress,
To the yellow Jonquils; and then only to impress.
And Amaryllis hides her newly naked-lady stem,
But her bouffant clothing opens, at each thrill of puffing wind.

The Bluebell always bows her head, when saying any grace,
Though Iris has Apollo's tears, fresh on her upturned face;
While Daffodil has sunshine, in her ringing petticoats-
Poor Honeysuckle is quite gone; all eaten up by goats.
Spicy Digits Apr 2021
I've sang for you
Danced for you
Bled for you
Bowed and curtsied
Dogged and *****
I've fought for you
I've won countless times
Ribbons and plaques
Handshakes in the dark

The game continues to play now
in my head
for you
Leira Dec 2014
They were something to behold
Everyone saw it
He pulled on her curls
She pushed him down
He laughed, amused
She frowned, but smiled when she turned around
He was a year her senior
Five and six when they met
During which, they were not the best of friends
He was more like a pest
She put up with
Over years though, it grew into something more
Akin to friendship
They would go out into fields
Chasing each other
Laughter filled the space
But then there were quiet moments
When breathing was caught
And looks were shared
And words were spoken
Some deep and buried
Brought out in the open
It was in those moments
Where things shift and change
Attraction became of them
As they grew in age
But neither acted in haste
Years of friendship prevented that
Still, gazes persisted; touches lingered
Talks became more intimate
They still laughed and teased the other
Both desired more though
But he was to leave for war
And not return, by any means, in a year’s or so time
One his last day before he left
They met
In a field
And she laid on his chest
He fiddled with her hair, pulling at her curls
Smiling when she punched his abdomen
When he pulled too hard
He would miss this
Miss her
She would miss him too
They soaked up the silence of night
Not talking just enjoying the sounds of the earth
He left at dawn
When he did, she would never tell a soul
How much she cried

He did not return in year or two or three
He returned four and half long years after
And he was not the same boy he was when he left
No, he was quite a different man
His eyes did not hold the same animation
They once did
His heart seemed hardened by his years at war
Guarded, more reserved
When he saw her for the first time
It was months after his return
In a crowded market
She was not a girl
No, not the girl he left
She was a woman
As much as he was a man
She did not see him at first
Her attention was elsewhere
He walked closer but stopped
A young girl about three emerged from behind the crate
Her fingers coated in something red and sticky
Which she was trying to clean
He could have sworn his heart stopped
And maybe it did
Because his breathing seemed to have ceased
The men around him became worried
His face ashen
Body rigid with tension
When she finally turned his way
Caught his gaze
Eye wide in surprise
In recognition…
He could feel her sigh
It seemed like the world stopped
People appeared frozen but moved with time
Passing in front of them
As two individuals allowed it to stop
But soon, he was recognized
They bowed and curtsied  
Saying meaningless pleasantries
It was not until
She walked up
Did he hear anyone  
The young ******* her hip
Face in the crook of her neck
Twirling her mother’s curls in her small hand
The woman—with perfect formality—
Curtsied and addressed,
“Your majesty.”
This was a fun one to write. I enjoyed it, and I hope you did too. Thanks for reading :)
Onoma Feb 2019
she released a

clear bubble balloon

during a violent

hailstorm.

then ran her bangs

behind her ears,

and curtsied.
JJ Hutton Jun 2011
Cindy Prine's bee buzz ringtone ripped her from
her deathlike slumber,
"Hello. Oh, hey Mom. What? Yeah, I'll be in tonight.
I agree...no, no I won't be brining Mattie. The Wilks
have her. They are wonderful with her. I love you too.
No, it'll probably sevenish. Not seven. Sevenish."

The Candy Corn Suite reeked of ****** fallout.
Sheets still wet and sticky with sweat.
The checkered floor covered in beer and discarded condoms.

Her ******* ached.
Most of the men had been awkward,
frightened, and easy to finish.
Hank, the porky 'friend of a friend', however,
had been brutal.
By the time he had finished,
her *** turned a light purple,
her back covered in spittle;
her scalp felt barely intact.

Cindy smelled pancakes and went downstairs.
"Good morning, darling. You want some hotcakes
and coffee?"

"Sure, Mama."

In the lobby, the Children's Funhouse looked like a ****** continental breakfast. Patrons from the night before and the workers
often sat side-by-side for what surely can lay claim to the
worst breakfast environment in the history of mankind.

"Will I have the pleasure of your company for a while, this time?"

"I'm afraid not. I need some time away from everything."

"Everything?"

"Todd, the baby, it's just depressing.
I'm twenty-*******-years-old, ya' know?
I did not sign up for domestication."

"Right on. Hell, neither did I," Chung-Ae Phun laughed
and curtsied, "So, where you going Cindy Lilly?"

"Back to my mom's for a bit."

"Are you two close?"

"Um, she is a brilliant woman.
We've never been able to talk,
but I guess you could say
I respect her."

"Fair enough. Cream or sugar?"

"No, thanks."

"How was Hank last night?"

"Oh, God, that ****! He--"

"What about my ****?" Hank blurted with a sinister, crinkled edge of lip.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I had no idea you were still here!"

"Why the **** should that matter," he snarled grabbing her tiny left arm.

"Hank, leave her alone," Madame Phun said sternly.

"She's just a little *****, Chung-baby."

"Hank, you need to leave."

"**** that. Not after the money I wasted on last night.
You promised me she was top rate.
I want my money back."

"Hank. This is not some fast-food joint,
where you come back to the counter
and ***** after you've eaten your burger!
Judging by the panting, sweaty mess you were
last night, she did just fine."

Cindy Prine reached for the intersection of her *** crack and belt line,
wrapped her trembling fingers around the hammer.

"Well, then I think I deserve another one on the house.
Can we make that compromise?"

"This isn't ******* Craig's List either, Hank. Get out!"

"I want another lay with this Lilly broad."

"Absolutely NOT--"

Cindy interrupted, "No, no it's okay, Mama."
Hank grinned, his gut seemed grow, the
hair around his arms spread like vines.
"Is it okay if we do it in your truck?
My room is an absolute mess."

"Fine by me. How I usually do it, anyway."

Hank opened the door for Cindy, in faux chivalry,
then proceeded to his side.
The cab felt like hell, and the metallic seatbelt burnt Cindy's skin.
"Where should we start?" Hank asked staring at Cindy's chest.

"How about you just relax for a second."
Cindy rubbed his crotch firmly, Hank closed his lids
and sunk into his chair, as he let out the first sigh,
Cindy snatched the hammer with her right hand and
quickly struck him
one-
two-
three
times.

Hank's skull sprung a leak. Blood spewed onto the dashboard.
Cindy shoved him to his side, snagged his wallet,
and proceeded
to crack three or four of his ribs.
© 2011 by J.J. Hutton
Mary Gay Kearns Mar 2018
The ballet stage was not a place for me
Late at night this child not too bright,
Stepped out
All forlorn
In long nightdress
Frilled all round
With red candlestick
And there on stage
At Sadlers Wells
She did propose
To dance composed
But having not an ounce
Of spatial sensé
Missed the placement of her feet
And at the end
As the audience clapped
She curtsied with her back
So none could see
This shining star
With her
candlestick
A flame
Just
The long and flowing hair
Which got her further
By far
This beautiful
Falling flower.

Love Mary ***
soul in torment Oct 2013
The sun
curtsied to the rain

and the...


rain bows
Word play my favourite bows ( to bend in greeting ) is the same spelling as bows ( ribbon archery etc )
Freedom May 2014
Everything she had done was all
wrong.
She was disregarded by everyone, even her
family.
Something had come over here, and she didn't know
what to do.
She was left, wearing nothing but black;
she was all alone.
What is someone to do now, when everyone gave up their
hope?
She was beautiful, but no one realized;
her life was diminishing.
She curtsied, and left.
Gone, forever.
Intrépide Jan 2017
a noble man is set forth on a quest
to rescue a damsel in distress
who aches to leave all her pasts
and detach herself from woeful blasts

a gloomy day it is
for the man has not yet come,
who seeks to catch a fleeting glimpse
of the damsel's broken, crimped
and beaten heart

she's unlikely aware of what might come
it's why she sat upright and slummed
for the noble man is yet to come,
to mend and fix her broken parts

a big smile she wore
upon his' entrance to the door
she smiled at him, and curtsied deep
for she has felt some kind of relief
erica court May 2015
your soft voice
        trickles over me
        like rain, like alive
        life curtsied before me
                a beauty in ****
                soft dark skin
over the wires leaping--
dizzies me
        I long for you to come to me
        in heels, swift, as poppie
        petals in the wind--
you are my rain, impertinently covering me
        and I don't mind, chirp over vibrations
        whirl me in your soft voice
and it's late at night but I like it, you know
                how sweet,
                        your voice is
for Sarah that keeps bugging me to use this ugly site
Vagodende Jul 2011
A boy and a girl met in distant wood.
The boy read to her poetry as best as he could.
She blushed and she curtsied to ease his nerves,
for his youth and his passions were no less than hers.

They roamed amidst the moss hanging down from the Oak
and hand on her *****, My Lady, she spoke:
"Dear boy now take easy my kiss on thy cheek,
for never I'd thought you'd make me feel so weak."

       "My Lady sweet, I kiss your feet
        for never I'd thought I'd an Angel meet."

The boy now more a man took his girl in his arms,
and knew she'd succumbed to his love, not his charms.
They walked towards the house leaving not one alone;
her father awaited, for her to be home.

He asked for her hand, may they soon become one;
One Hand and One Heart until all was done.
The father smiled kindly, "My son, she is yours.
Take care for my daughter, my bright Morning Star."

       "My Lady sweet, I kiss your feet
        for never I'd thought I'd an Angel meet."

The time came for a wedding 'midst springtime flowers,
And people gathered candy with toys 'neath the boughs.
He looked and saw his lady with bridal throng
and imagined, and remembered his midnight song.

       "My Lady sweet, I kiss your feet
        for never I'd thought I'd an Angel keep."

She hovered near the altar with peony flowers
and looked up through a white veil for what seemed hours.
The pastor with his bible said five sweet words,
and lovers, now angels flew up with the birds.



Long after laid an angel; stood all her kin round,
for later that day she would be underground.
her husband, her lover, felt something was wrong;
she could not go to sleep without hearing her song:

       "My Lady sweet, I kiss your feet
        for never I'd thought I'd an Angel meet.
        My Lady sweet, O cease to weep;
        for though you now sleep in my heart, you, I'll keep."
Mike Hauser Mar 2017
I met Emily Dickinson on the edge of the wood
With paper and pen in hand
Know not what she wrote but knew it was good
As I've always been a fan

Looking at me she gave a sly wink
As if I understood
How strange it was that nature does not knock
And yet does not intrude

She then curtsied in a goodbye gesture
Handing me a rhyming book
Whispered,,,happily ever after
Before she vanished in the wood
Worked this poem around an Emily Dickinson quote
How strange that nature does not knock, and yet does not intrude!
D A W N Nov 2017
my shoulders are lonely with love and serendipity that control me; i want somebody to hold me but its useless nevertheless the truth is people leave me clueless with the things i do with. and i loved you endless like a paragraph that didnt have a sentence because it didnt have to make sense as long as it was endless; i thought it was perfect. did you shatter when i threw you into the latter. when you said everyone didnt matter except me, did you mean it. and thats not all. you told me sticks and stones wont break my bones, as long as youre there im not alone. you told me my eyes were a reverie leaving you wanting for more. keep in mind i walked to your downpour without a cover. how you told me youll love me like no other-how you used to smother all the love numbers when i thought you werent like the others. you told me actions speak louder than words. how your words cursed me and curtsied everytime you hurt me, stirred me
and i still loved you
endlessly
and if i could
i would take every breath of me
just to prove to you
that i loved you unconditionally
despite the consecutive times youve
tried to  hurt me
UNFINISHED POEM WRITTEN IN 2016  N I JUST FINISHED THIS 3 YEARS LATER I-
IS THIS EVEN A POEM
JL Smith Sep 2018
I'm not swayed by your status
Nor your wealth or crown,
While your nose is held high among the court
I've curtsied for comedy in the corner--
Your jester, my clown

© JL Smith
Poetic T May 2017
Linage of pride as she howled towards birds
that curtsied in the presence of she unspoken in words.
All knew of her, this steed she rode upon, one
of a pride of brothers and sisters. Unseen none
left her side, when she motioned all would run.

The staff was her voice, with but effortless elegance
showing those who tainting the forest with inelegance
of self, ruining the balance for the deeds of ones own lack
of morality. Pollen seeded the air, hands did reach back
pulling forth a wand of bones perched in palm each did crack.

Not of the reflection she did gaze upon something was
older, more cursed than the shadows underneath, she pause.
The wolves did howl upon the air, each one a different tone.
Clawing the earth as if something were being harmonically sewn.
the illusion fragmented, the wand but apart of something unknown.

It was an abomination of times when shades walked unaided
but she knew the motions to bury its darkness till it faded.
Her staff whispered to the breeze as blossom like snow descended.
Like a storm of light cutting into this abomination now suspended
collapsing inward till only one onyx petal fell before it began it ended.

The night fell as stars wove the illumination on the figures below,
and shimmering around her tiny form was a necklace of shadow
petals, this wasn't her first or last shadow to fall like blossom alone
on the ground. The wolfs howled at the moon as she smiled, tone
of melodies greeted her ears as she rested her weary head on a stone.
Adam Latham Oct 2014
I met her going to the fair,
Upon a country road,
A bow was tied about her hair
Which to her shoulders flowed.
The spark of youth shone in her eyes
In pools of emerald green,
Her body was of average size
Yet pretty to be seen.
The whitest dress I ever saw
Swept lightly about her feet,
And around her neck a rabbits claw
Clung in the summer heat.
She smiled thinly, bowed her head
And curtsied with true grace,
And then with timid words she said
"My lord what is this place?"
"The road to Danbury Fair," said I,
"And yonder to the coast,
Please walk with me a by and by
And I shall prove my boast."
A quarter mile, a half-a-mile,
My recollection fails,
We strolled in silent trance like style
All through the sun stroked dales.
Until upon a certain spot
No different than the rest,
The atmosphere that once was hot
Blew with a chilling zest.
Then suddenly the sky grew dim
As sun and light withdrew,
And darkness conquered every limb
Above us that was blue.
The woman gave a startled cry
And fell onto her knees,
"Right here is where I cut the tie
With man's mortalities.
My soul will never rest in peace
But always I shall be
A spirit with an earthly lease
Now and eternally."
A pounding heart betrayed my fear
At this unnatural sight,
But paralysed I could not steer
Myself away in flight.
Instead I watched with heavy breath,
This other worldly power
Tell of her own untimely death
Which cut her youthful flower.
A tale of highway treachery,
So long ago it seems,
Resulted in her pedigree
Dissolved from living themes.
And now with woeful discontent
She grieves her swift demise,
By stirring up the firmament
Over where her body lies.
Though boldness purged my nervous root,
My daring came too late,
The questions posed in minds pursuit
Never formed into debate.
For soon the apparition waned
And vanished from my view,
The clouds dispersed, the sun regained
Its former vibrant hue.
And me, my ordeal done at last,
I stood with nought to say,
A victim of a tragic past
That haunts the Danbury Way.
Stef Hughart Dec 2016
Still night,
Interupted through carnage dreams,
Communication cut tight,
Feeding childish curiosity,
Recycled induced fear,
Cringing into safety.
Eyes clamped shut,
The inevitable sight of fright,
Vacant sheets,
Twirling round and round,
Bright shadows illuminate humanistic curves,
Curtsied into the darkness of cover.
Bumps in the night singing
In tune to mythical belief,
Heavy breath heated in echoed conversation,
Being watched,
Sinister eyes teasing pain,
Indefinitely a poisioned child.
Anxiety destroying rationlization,
Room of mystical wonder,
Vacant everlong ,
Silence torn asunder,
Street light orchestra play for her.
wordvango Oct 2017
bad *** babe I met
a while back, we hit it off
immediately
then she confessed
she has been in love three years
and it took my breath away

I told her to keep her hat on
whilst we danced
and she curtsied
so femininely I **** near came then
we talked warily
then it seemed like I knew her

I saw she was much my other side
a reflection in the mirror
the yin to my yang
the flip side my nickle
pretty and shinier
and her

I wish I could make a nest
like  out of limbs and twigs
found things and make it beauty beyond a robin's nest
to her
to make sweet sounds
whistle

pose my tail feathers up
wordvango Aug 2017
I have no idea why this  word took my head just then
I was just perusing the internet
and retinue curtsied at my mind's doorway
it just popped up and said
try to guess me
so I googled the **** out of it
and found it quite the
oddest thing
I'd rather have one
close confidant
than  a parade
of strangers
-to tell the truth-
someone who knows me inside out
than a whole wide world
of posers
S M Aug 2016
Menace on my garden step
Into ocean eyes
Bathe in sullied salt
Your skin will sap a single drip
To naturalize assault

Peep through shower drapes
Onto pickened flesh
Steam in closed air
Your lips will slap a greedy thought
A sanctity left bare

Knock into soft limb
Produce a curtsied silence
Echoes of anger loom
Your hands will feed a seeded fear
That croons a tasty violence
Tom D Jan 2019
He came to study the brooding skies,
Of blues and pewter grays,
Before they bowed and curtsied,
To the lighter, warmer days
And paint emerging scenes of Spring,
With Winter in its shadows,
Among the empty, amber fields,
Sprouting into blissful meadows,
Of saving grace
Scott Jurewicz Nov 2019
(a song lyric)

i looked long upon the forest
and i beheld a tree
i handed it a smile
and it gave one back to me
it's the simple things in life i love
and me darlin'
so does she

i watched a herd of birds in dance
so expert in their glee
i bowed to them in wonder
and they curtsied back to me
it's the simple things in life i love
and me darlin'
so does she

she keeps my winters warm
and my summers always cool
autumn takes her blessed form
spring took me for her fool

i saw a tiny dog do handstands
and sing on bended knee
i clapped so joyous for him
that he sang a song for me
it's the simple things in life i love
and me darlin'
so does she

i felt a yearning heart so lovely
that struggled cross the sea
i whispered words of hope to it
as it beat inside of me
it's the simple things in life i love
and me darlin'
so does she
Neville Johnson Jan 2020
It is quite an event!
Gerry Atric is old enough to know that Joshua Tree isn’t the right guy for Marine Layer. Anyway, she is more interested in Donny Brook, who had just broken up with Dee Ported, for obvious reasons. There they are, carousing on the Sunset Strip: Perry Winkle, Penny Farthing, Miss Understanding and Poppy ****, when who walks in --- Sara N Dippity, with ***** Nilly and Sal Amander, one on each arm!
Now Sara used to be the significant other of Mort Ify, before him, Pete Moss, before him, Charlie Horse and before him, Al Luminum! Go figure. That leaves Tess Osterone who cannot though she tries, attract any of these fine fellows, so she nurses a drink with Terri Ble, and wails about her latest disappointment with Con Descending.
Trying to calm the situation is Herb Tea, but even he ends up having cross words with **** Tatorial, who finally splits with Paddy Wagon in tow and heads over to see Tia Juana, and if they have time, Nan Tucket.
Why General Jive and Warren Peace are huddled has yet to be explained. Oblivious to all of us Mac Aroon and Junior Mints, shared tasty morsels and a libation with Amber Beer.
Preppy dressed Cord Uroy hangs with the stylsh Art Ist, each trying to make a move on Joy D. Vivre, but they are stopped by Moe Mentum , who had the inside track up until Scott Free, Gus To and Juan Derful surround the crowd, each trying to make some time with her.
Consider Lilli Put conversing with Al Falfa, while Rich People and Cord Cutter trying to listen in, but are thwarted by Mari Gold who interfered with that desire as she was shouting epithets at Con Undrum, who doesn’t know what to do. Miss Issippi cruises in and with Molly Fi, who tries to calm the situation. Watching from the corner is Bob Cat, wary of Miss Creant, who is eying him, all while she is being scoped out by Val I Date.
If life is sometimes a desert, Mo Have personifies it; he has his own problems trying to get out of the way of Uri Nalysis, who is just plain trouble. Jonathan Club is his usual convivial self, making conversation with Trey Chrotomy, who keeps clearing his throat. I was amazed to see Leo **** getting dressed down by Dinah Mite, supported in her criticism by Dee Mise.
Let us turn to the artistic arrivals: Marshall Amp and Art Professor, both adding some zest to the gathering, enabled in part by the always attractive Dee Colletage. Bill O’Lading is a bore until he jumps into the drink with Jac Uzzi, accompanied by Nat Ural, as they view the valley below and drink champagne with Elle Vation. Bobbi Pin pops everyone’s balloon by getting wasted and along with Cara Van is asked to leave. But this paled in comparison to Al Abaster attacking Ana Conda for hitting on her significant other, Tom A. Hawk.
Everyone stays away from Hal Itosis except Sue Venir and Mel Lifluos who avoids discussing the obvious. Commiserating and having a bad time are Marg Inal and June Gloom, but then they’re always that way when they get together.
Moving up in the world is Val Et, with her new recruit, Ann Appolis, decked out in a matching outfit with Lily White. Terry Dactl flew in to convince Dee Nial she had a true friend in Mother Nature, but that she should get a second opinion from Al Egory, any to hear what Brandy Alexander had to say as long as she was not slurring her words.
Everybody loves Gus To, he’s so nice to everyone, even the plain Lyn Olium and the depressing Miss Ann Thrope. We aren’t sure what to make of Sal Amander, who seemed a bit slimy, especially coupled with Beau Dacious. What were they up to? Dan Ube engaged Earnest Money to find out. He reported they were going to fleece Dan Druff and Butch Haircut, who should not invest in their hair-brained scheme.
Al Abama buttered up Cy Pres, hoping for some charity, while Minnie Scule and Tara Bite made an unlikely duo. “Respect” said Jen Uflect, that’s what everyone deserves, as she curtsied at the arrival of Caesar Salad. “Ha, ha, ha,” Heidi ** merrily exclaimed, joined by the mysterious I Stanbul. All he did was complain about the political situation.
Mary Me cannot get enough of Al Falfa, though she would have done better with the always engaging Mo Zart. Too bad he is always with Tom Foolery and Cass Anova, both with questionable motives. I know for a fact that Beau Dacious has crashed this party, pretending to have an invite from Des Ire. Outside, mystified by the diverse assemblage stands Papa Razzi, camera in hand. Hal Leluha tries to talk his way in, but gets nowhere is he is not on the list, says party planner Claire Ify. Mel Ifluous, on the other hand, though not an invitee, does get past the velvet rope, which I surmise is because he is with that wealthy Main Liner, Phil Adelphia.
Back inside the party I encounter Lazy Susan having a drink with Bud Weiser.  Here’s an unusual assortment: Guy Dance, Major Minor, Hazel Nuts and Scott Free. His choice of clothing questionable, Lee Derhosen paints a pretty picture about his life to Al Fresco, who is dismissive. Maybe that is because Mo Hawk puts him down, but he gets some protection from Val Id. Dee Tatched, never a joiner, talks business with Perry Mutual, who is threatened by his nemesis, Vito Power. Jungle Jim back from his travels, has a new mate, Lazy Susan, she having moved on from Leo ****.
How Riff Raff got an invite is shocking and I hope he will depart soon with Lee Ving, Bob N Weave, and Con Descenion. Louis Ville slugs it out, batting away the negative but truculent comments of Claire Ification. Tim Buktu acts like he is in another country, causing Mort Ified to hang his head, all made worse by the mutterings of Carrie On.
Mentor Ing tries to advise Con Flagration to cool it and is helped by
Dolly Grip and Frank Lee Speaking. Stu Pendus addresses each issue raised by Bill O’ Particulars, but he cannot allay the suspicions of Artie Choke, finally saying he must be in a vegetative state if he cannot understand the implications of what he proposes. Bo Tox just stood there, trying to look good.
The last to leave is Senor Ity. Phil Harmonic and June Bug drive him home where he lives with Dana Point and Sherman Oaks.
I always do word play at the first of the year.

— The End —