Reinventing Your Exit

Welcome, dear friend.
Welcome to my poetry reading.

I know you will just love this,
So I have conveniently locked the doors.
You won't be going anywhere for a while,
and in fact, you'll be for more.

By the way, I wanted to remind you,
That this session will contain prewrites...
By other authors.
This is most nostalgic, a'ight?

Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio!
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.
In Xanadu did Kubla Kahn a stately pleasure decree:

Whilom, as olde stories tellen us,
Ther was a duc that highte Theseus.
I am black, but comely,
O ye daughters of Jerusalem,
I am such a tender ass,
if my hair do but tickle me,
I must scratch.

I shall go on, but first, allow me
To state how great our lord Zartosht,
By account of the Holy Avesta,
Has mine life crossed.

Hey, you.
Yes, you.

What are you doing with that pickaxe?
Digging your way out of here, you say?
Put that GODDAMN thing down, right now!
I'm an artist, I deserve your respect and money!

Liek I wuz sayin,
im so happy! Im in luv.
So in luv, I culd cut myself.
LOL. Stop.

Oh, I'm sorry. Stop.
I forgot to tell you. Stop.
I'm going to be delivering the
Rest of the poetry in Morse Code. Stop.
I hope you don't mind. Stop.

.. ..-. / -.-- --- ..- .----. .-. . / .-. . .-
-.. .. -. --. / - .... .. ... --..--
/ -.-- --- ..- .----. ...- . / .--. ..- - /
.. -. / - --- --- / -- ..- -.-. .... /
.-- --- .-. -.- .-.-.- / --.- ..- .. -
/ -- .- -.- .. -. --. / .- -. /
. ..-. ..-. --- .-. - --..-- / -.-- --- ..- /
.--. .. --- ..- ... --..-- /
.- .-. .-. --- --. .- -. - / .--- . .-. -.- .-.-.-

Please, for the love of Thor! Stop.
Don't go: stop! Stop.
Stay for the reception! Stop.
I won't die here! Stop.

And thus, I rambled on for the entire night,
Until I was at least past 80 lines.
And the audience loved me so much,
They reinvented their own exits.