Don't be damned
By men who scram
They try so little
And you try so hard.
Don't be ratted
Your heart ain't tatte'd
By a man who don't
Love you a'more.
They fool you into finding
A piece that you could hold
They fool you into clenching
Like your future now unfold.
Ironing and darning socks
For a sleaze and mighty drat.
You ne'er liked a man that way
But he fool'd you into that.
Save yourself, Miss pretty
Save yourself the ache
For someone who don't do much bad
And you be kind to take.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
The Trouble with being Agreeable
Boasting isn't the term I wanted. Congratulating is merely the tie-in.
Well, I figured out the type. And, well, they're me alright. Me right to the word, of course not. The three magic words.
They should never be said, of course not. They lead to many unscripted but rewritten passages, too many to take note of them all.
If simply by calendar. That would be easier, wouldn't it?
Easier to take me by the hand and buy an ice cream, than to walk into your house and say Hullo. Shall we have dinner at eight, dining in? Of course not, we'll go out.
Take my hand in Paris, but not in your town. It's just not right. You know I could convince myself of anything. Love, in fact.
Vanilla, of course. Strawberry, of course not.
Going on strong and going on in a hurry are two separate things. Hurry? Of course not, I say.
That only confuses things, because of course I'm in a hurry. Rushing to get to the door and to see you and say, good bye.
On to the next day, the next month, of course.
Well, I figured out the type. And, well, they're me alright. Me right to the word, of course not. The three magic words.
They should never be said, of course not. They lead to many unscripted but rewritten passages, too many to take note of them all.
If simply by calendar. That would be easier, wouldn't it?
Easier to take me by the hand and buy an ice cream, than to walk into your house and say Hullo. Shall we have dinner at eight, dining in? Of course not, we'll go out.
Take my hand in Paris, but not in your town. It's just not right. You know I could convince myself of anything. Love, in fact.
Vanilla, of course. Strawberry, of course not.
Going on strong and going on in a hurry are two separate things. Hurry? Of course not, I say.
That only confuses things, because of course I'm in a hurry. Rushing to get to the door and to see you and say, good bye.
On to the next day, the next month, of course.
For now.
You couldn't think of another thing that rhymes with time, so you just gave up.
Well, I say, my fair distinguished exeunt of honour, let's begin at the start. Where it all began.
We can erase from there. You never again have to include yourself in my delusions again, you hear.
Now, you say. Now, ain't that a treat.
Fairly right, yes, right indeed.
Well, I say, my fair distinguished exeunt of honour, let's begin at the start. Where it all began.
We can erase from there. You never again have to include yourself in my delusions again, you hear.
Now, you say. Now, ain't that a treat.
Fairly right, yes, right indeed.
Marie of Marais, Roses they say
Marie of Marais
Found any which way
To sew through the hem
And spot on the buttons.
For a dress at the ball
Was the turn to her fall
Leaves her no beauty
In the envy of scorn.
Balanced them both
With a third more to count
She knew less than plenty
When there wasn't a doubt.
Her type was too shrewd
To fire her feud
Jealous upheaval
In the gait of her whim.
Maths in the head
A sum of the heart
Came none for her morrow
But ever did start.
Marie of Marais
Came off that way
Wind in her dress
Her hair such a mess.
With a twirl of her curl
And a twist of his tail
Made her promise to keep
His bye gone betrayal.
Marie of Marais
Better off than, say
A wife of a suit
Or a beauty of the day.
Found any which way
To sew through the hem
And spot on the buttons.
For a dress at the ball
Was the turn to her fall
Leaves her no beauty
In the envy of scorn.
Balanced them both
With a third more to count
She knew less than plenty
When there wasn't a doubt.
Her type was too shrewd
To fire her feud
Jealous upheaval
In the gait of her whim.
Maths in the head
A sum of the heart
Came none for her morrow
But ever did start.
Marie of Marais
Came off that way
Wind in her dress
Her hair such a mess.
With a twirl of her curl
And a twist of his tail
Made her promise to keep
His bye gone betrayal.
Marie of Marais
Better off than, say
A wife of a suit
Or a beauty of the day.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Comma
Listen
Here
Mister,
If I put a pound in your pocket
Would you buy the pretty locket?
In the window of my dreams
Sciapparelli doesn't scream
Diamonds pass us by
From the corner of the eye.
Duck
For
Cover,
Boy, I saved you good
Like all the times you say you would,
Jump
To
Save
Me.
Be a gentleman, at best
Light the fire for the rest.
We don't need trouble, you
Just get over how you do.
Here
Mister,
If I put a pound in your pocket
Would you buy the pretty locket?
In the window of my dreams
Sciapparelli doesn't scream
Diamonds pass us by
From the corner of the eye.
Duck
For
Cover,
Boy, I saved you good
Like all the times you say you would,
Jump
To
Save
Me.
Be a gentleman, at best
Light the fire for the rest.
We don't need trouble, you
Just get over how you do.
Darling, Forget It
A lady doesn't show the world or any particular caller
That she is a mess of hormones and bad medicine.
Instead of contacting soon to be adversaries, try these ideas:
1. Stand on your head for seven hours. Drains all the blood from your limbs, which are connected to fingers that type nasty silly anecdotes.
2. Run on ice. It works to eradicate whatever is going on in your head.
3. Jump out of a plane. That will take up a few hours you would have used to contact anyone. And will scare you half to death.
4. Take driving lessons in the snow. The slush will really make you think, what's important now?
All though the above seem like fool proof measures to avoid contacting anyone during times of potential irrational behavior, a lady will turn off her mobile phone and put it into the freezer for three days. If she is frantic on the keyboard, she will also send it to the Apple store for Software updates and not collect it for three days.
A lady is in all of us, she just has to learn how to shove the witch's head in the oven before it lets you eat the walls.
Metaphorical, of course your life isn't Gingerbread. But the witch is PMS.
That she is a mess of hormones and bad medicine.
Instead of contacting soon to be adversaries, try these ideas:
1. Stand on your head for seven hours. Drains all the blood from your limbs, which are connected to fingers that type nasty silly anecdotes.
2. Run on ice. It works to eradicate whatever is going on in your head.
3. Jump out of a plane. That will take up a few hours you would have used to contact anyone. And will scare you half to death.
4. Take driving lessons in the snow. The slush will really make you think, what's important now?
All though the above seem like fool proof measures to avoid contacting anyone during times of potential irrational behavior, a lady will turn off her mobile phone and put it into the freezer for three days. If she is frantic on the keyboard, she will also send it to the Apple store for Software updates and not collect it for three days.
A lady is in all of us, she just has to learn how to shove the witch's head in the oven before it lets you eat the walls.
Metaphorical, of course your life isn't Gingerbread. But the witch is PMS.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
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