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I worked for a woman,
She wasn't mean--
But she had a twelve-room
House to clean.

Had to get breakfast,
Dinner, and supper, too--
Then take care of her children
When I got through.

Wash, iron, and scrub,
Walk the dog around--
It was too much,
Nearly broke me down.

I said, Madam,
Can it be
You trying to make a
Pack-horse out of me?

She opened her mouth.
She cried, Oh, no!
You know, Alberta,
I love you so!

I said, Madam,
That may be true--
But I'll be dogged
If I love you!
 Apr 2015 Samantha Ellis
NV
3 AM type of girl expecting something more from a boy who barely makes it past midnight.

I KEEP TELLING YOU EXPECTATIONS ARE THE DEVIL, AND DISAPPOINTMENT WILL BURN WITH FIRE AT YOUR CHEST, DARLING.

"just go to bed because i'm basically talking to myself" she says.

*YOU SO TIRED OF PEOPLE BEING THERE, BUT NOT REALLY BEING THERE, SO YOU HANG UP, OKAY.
 Apr 2015 Samantha Ellis
Lyra
Stars
 Apr 2015 Samantha Ellis
Lyra
Last night
I looked up into the stars
And matched one with a reason
why I love you

I was doing great


until I ran out of stars.
(this poem don't matter much
unless you balk with ***** to essay upon,
thyself, thy valentine failures,
children and ex's who have ex'd you out,
sad love songs
one more time,
even joyous ones,
foolishness human,
then this intro source code,
is an unnecessary winter weather advisory)


a phrase, song~played, scratches,
brain self-commands
via electric synapse
To: the current in-resident body
extrude denude private places

riff,
get to thy work,
decompose on them words:
in the private places*

play with the lowly lowest ranking,
private, who by nature, sees
finer the dirtiest,
privy to the privy,
privilege them
to the most personal,
spit/spill/weep/deep
some or none of it all,
cause the scratch is the
poetic salvation to that
*****~itch, write

the best you get,
dispossess the beastie best
in the pvt. places,
ain't much/no difference
tween beastie and all the crapper rest

draw from the private places,
cast up to light,
revelations devaluations sensations
impolite,
well kept secrets

if you can say it good,
then draw it up from the well
where the private places
were|where sent to drown,
and if you can't,
no bother brother,
after this exculpation excavation,
I'll go back with you
to adding a rock to the
bottom of the pile,
the mountain of superficial crap
people seem to move their lips
but
nothing
ever
comes out.
well, that's not exactly true.
words escape
like dead leaves
in a windstorm
but like leaves
they
flutter
and flurry
useless things.

a pretty painted kissable lip
tempts
no one
when the words it drops like bombs
explode
killing
the life
it
envied
 Jan 2015 Samantha Ellis
Alexis
I say the wrong thing,
In perfect moments.

My failures wait for me,
In the reflection,
Every morning.

Nightmares dance
Through my mind.
Pictures, motion pictures.
Often black and white.

My voice taunts my body.
I see every imperfection,
My voice will remind me,
To look,
Before I can forget.

My breath escapes me.
There is no room for air,
In,
Me.
I cannot inhale.

I cannot inhale.
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