Sensational Me!

Listen to the sound of D'Angelo's elegant sensuality filling the room, the slow jam to end all slow jams, as I stand before you all, a simple poet, with simple hopes and dreams, ideas bigger than his station. Call me Eregion's Lord in poetic terms as I let the smooth sexuality of the undisputed king of R'n'B take hold of me. The sound's electricity across my soon to be, well, you'll see, skin.

Feel the vibrations of the slow jam as it reverberates from the 300 Watts speakers, I did the math by the way and 300 Watts speakers was a good settling point. Not too loud that it becomes unnecessarily distorted, but loud enough to fill a large hall. A large hall that is about to feel the love of D'Angelo's exquisite voice and musical arrangements paired with the bodily display of an overly-fraught, pasty white-but-also-oliveish coloured overweight hairy Scotsman as he tries to woo all in attendance with his awkward sways as his clothing goes astray. Is there a hot tub with tepid water anywhere in the vicinity? Do we have a doctor in the gathered masses?

Smell the anxiety, the sweat, the over-compensating array of the fruitiest, herbiest, floraliest Yankee Candle collection placed strategically around the room as I get into my stride to the beat and almost lose my unstable footing as I kick the shoes, the socks off my feet, undoing as I do the button of my jeans. You see, let me let you in on the reason, the rhyme (rhyme, yeah right? Paul you don't rhyme, do you, you wassack, except that time you actually won the damn thing)

Look at me, all eyes on me, all in attendance, no looking away, as the jeans come off and the boxers come out to play. All eyes on me as I dance and sway to D'Angelo followed by Black Velvet by Alannah Myles. Momentum is gaining as the Green Day Tour t-shirt bequeathed by my sons (thanks boys) sets pulses raising as up and over my belly chest, head and no more, it goes. You see, there is a desperation to be seen, staring at the screen, waiting for the notification, the Top Story, the runner-up, the second place, the whole damn thing first place. So here I stand before you all, as you look at me, with baited breath for the latest endeavour into psychological dissection or unreliability in narrators when really I am the most unreliable narrator. In every story, every poem, a little or lot of Paul resides.

Can you taste that? Taste the sweat? Or is it just me? Can you taste the anxiety in the air? Or is that just me, again? Really, don't leave me hanging. Don't leave me standing here on this stage, dancing in my boxers for you all, putting on a show for you all. Like a muppet or temmup (a throwback to an earlier piece). I want to be your addiction, your sensational superstar addiction. Taste me and see, I am all the flavours of the Skittles rainbow. Sensational me, sensational me. Vote for me, as your sensational me. Top Story here I come, first place, here I come. I shall have another day in the sun. I even rhymed for the sheer unadulterated fun. of it all.

*

Thanks for reading!

Author's Notes: It's a poem. All questions and comments will be answered in due time. Thank you. Haha. Sorry if your eyes need to be changed after this. At least you got to hear the sweet sweet voice of D'Angelo?