(This poem was written in 2014. I performed it in front of people a couple of times and got into trouble.)
Bonanza’s Never Spoken Stanza
The pretty lady in the poem farted.
It was funny because
You do not always come across a lady farting in poetry.
In fact, as the poet writes, he thinks twice
Whether he should or should not take the risk
to include her butt – her sexy ass – in this big, lousy mess.
“Do it!” The rapist at the bar shouts.
“This one’s unique.”
And the poet nods.
(Lately, every girl I know claims
to have been raped by somebody.
It’s trending.)
As I dance with funny-smelling noodles,
Singing ‘The Slaughter of the Poodles’
These particular events are taking place
In a parallel universe,
In a Chinese restaurant called Little China
Located in Downtown Beirut.
All sorts of people who can afford
a Tuesday night dinner
go to Mono.
Dumb teens in tight jeans and high heels
around a round table
discuss matters of great importance:
cocktail parties, good careers, and dicks doused in gold.
“Boys want tits but men want ass.”
“Never kiss a guy who can’t dance.”
The polo shirt society members sit in one corner.
One of them will have the waitress for dessert.
“That sexy thing is something, isn’t she?”
“My biceps need the protein, baby.”
Now, the poet stands up swiftly
(by the way, his name’s Bonanza)
and jumps on the dining table
to recite the lousy stanza.
“Listen, ladies and boys,
to the sounds of the future.
Listen to the tap-dancing thumbs on touch screens,
to the smart phones and smart bombs and ATM machines.
Get your noses out of your telephones and listen.
Listen, because I speak what I see and—”
That is when the poet slips and falls from the table.
As his butt hits the floor,
the once bamboozled crowd starts laughing.
Some hands start clapping,
but it’s no round of applause.
Mega-pixel pictures of the crying poet,
who has Sweet & Sour sauce in his hair
and soy sauce on his pants,
are taken
while the rapist rapes the pretty girl
who farted earlier in this poem.
