Have you seen my granny?
She shoots like Johnny Wayne,
Smokes cigarettes like Garbo,
Sings like Kelly in the rain.
She's doubtless at the movies
Watching Audrey zip 'round Rome,
And wishing she were young enough
To run away from home.
My nana laughs like Rita,
Plays chess like Steve McQueen,
She smoulders like her heroes do
Up on that silver screen.
Have you seen my granny?
She loves Bogart and Bacall,
And in her dreams forever
She is blonde and six-foot tall.
Third verse NOT a team player. Will revisit. Gotta go!
‘Movies, to him and the majority of the planet, are an enhancement to a life. The way a glass of wine complements a dinner. I’m the other way around. I’m the kind of person who eats a few bites of food so that my stomach can handle the full bottle of wine I’m about to drink.’
- Patton Oswalt, Silver Screen Fiend: Learning About Life from an Addiction to Film
Cinderella stares and exhales
Cinderella what a beautiful girl
memory loss is the salvation I desperately crave
the coin shows heads whichever way you toss
the damp night welcomes me into her arms
the creamy sky, it sighs and sheds a few tears
a tear for you, for me and for what we never used to be
a tear for every night I didn't spend in your bed
a tear for every day where distance grew in confidence
a tear for this crouched shadow hiding from me.
Cinderella's boots maltreat the spare stub
you look spacy while searching for a tree to jiggle
there's no shortage of choice, this forest is all yours
oh, it's all yours tonight
yet all the choices make you feel dizzy
and you sit down on the ground
to smoke a ciggy.
You always liked to read my gaze
guess all those pictures in my head
and watch all those fish floundering in your net
You light another and think about all
the milk cartoons you trashed
you're still squeezing the last drop out of me
wash me down your sink and smile and think
you probably got it all
and you probably did
I end up down your drain and mingle
with your last boy's ***** and your period blood.
Your place to rest is always the kitchen
my place to sleep, it's near your pillow
just six feet under
oh, six feet down I lie and close my eyes.
You believe life's just a laugh
I believe Eros will always get the last laugh
he waits for my desperation to reach boiling point
and then he spreads his wings and flies away
Oh, that's you
spread your wings and fly away.
Your last dream was a plushy ball
your dress was rose gold and my cheeks were just plain red
and your wings
they clung so firmly to your back
Oh, Cinderella, if you want a smoke, just take one of mine
I was born to swindle you, born to lie, born to deceive you
and you were born to never even notice.
The doves come land on the edges of your balcony
you ask for their help and they say yes and I melt
'cause I know the doves have never failed
and you'll see him and you'll smile and I won't be there
and you'll sign on the dotted line
he'll be yours for as long as you desire
and you'll be his for as long as you desire
Thunder roars approval
and from six feet under I wince objections
heard by no one particular.
It's fine for you, you'll sort the peas for 80 years
And I'll drink the sleet and breathe
Stairs of pitch will keep me in this prison underground
Stairs of pitch will discourage you from ever peeking down
Stairs of pitch jam the way to your mind
and you like the fact that your prince will now have to climb the window.
I'll dream of cutting off your toe and your heel
to stop you from ever fleeing me
and then I'll desperately sob
and when I wake up, I'll be six feet down
looking up to you and you'll ask:
'Care for a smoke?'
Blood has risin
Fallen under the demise of gluttony
Throats shutter in a flourished gleam
Spilling out their smokes; the evil stream
With closed eyes the horizon did strike
I was the one who favored spite
Invisible to eyes the mind grew thin
Wearing down from the mask of sin
Oh sweet child have you strayed so far?
In the final moment did I become a star
Ripples of triumph
I have fought death
Swimming towards light
For one last breath
Decrepit old sun burnt out and cold
Heart wondered beat less
Fortune favored the bold
I bought groceries today,
and held my bags in my hands
while i waited for my car to arrive.
leaning by the carts
bundled in a winter coat
cursing the wind
watching the family's walk in and out.
A cashier walks out and stands beside me
Bags under her eyes, a little smile
She comments on the cold weather
and lights up a smoke.
coughing with each breath.
A few more puffs
and she throws it on the pavement
and goes back to work.
the smoke still rises
I am still waiting
for my car.
A garbage man walks up to me
he smiles brightly, his eyes big and warm.
and says that mother nature only got it half right today,
the suns out but its too **** cold.
I chuckle and nod as he removes the filled trash from the can
"she never loses that ******* does she? I think she likes us cold"
"haha, I guess so!"
We exchange a smile, and he goes off to the next can.
I wait for my car.
The cigarette that the cashier left is still burning
the wind pushed it back to the door
And I watch closely as every leg danced around it
and every wheel rolled beside it.
The smoke kept coming.
A family of three exits the store
a handsome man in his mid thirties
and a burgundy coat pushed the cart with his wife
while his young son walked ahead of them.
The son pulled out a flyer and began to read
His father approached him
and ripped it from his hand,
and threw it in the garbage beside me.
He looked his son in his eyes
"you're being ridiculous"
They kept walking
The smoke kept rising
The can isn't empty anymore
and I'm still waiting for my car.
As the smoke flowed gracefully
through my tongue, for a minute,
I don’t want to think about her.
As I let out the smoke go
and share the weightless
absence of her scent in my room,
the pang of grief found its way
to terminate my lungs
and bite the only sign that could
metaphysically tell I am here,
unmoved but that’s because
I restrained myself to
while trying to dodge the mirror
that shows the eyes of the man
she once held closer to her world
only to be shattered by the same person
who is now in the middle of
torturing his lungs to run towards
to where she is now.
I almost run to where she is now
because my mind does, my heart does
along with my tears, they run
but the flashbacks shoved them hard
to the chair, she once occupied
while staring at me unhappily
And I felt so helpless for the first time
when I told her that it’s okay,
I want her to be happy.
Even if happy means – somewhere else,
someone else, not me.
As I wince to inhale
I wonder if
I've lost the taste for your smokes
or if I've lost the taste for you.
You told me when we talk its a risky conversation.
So I imagine
We had embers for mouths
We conversed with smoke signals.
Unable to control our spits
The bomb ignited
In which neither of us meant to have lit the fuse.
the cat died
a few months ago
and now they use
his food dish
as an ash tray
rest in peace.
In another life I swear I would've been a chronic drug addict
I don't do drugs but if it weren't for my supportive best friend and my fear of needle, pills and hallucinations I'd be so hooked
saintly mania raving.
new age jainist phasers
sang they praises
'hey mr bojangles,
go mangle up the angle,
shake shake shake the frame
& they'll thank you later.'
...sorry not today.
I'm feeling under the
following the devil
thru the desert
on great endeavors
to make it rain feathers
that sound like thunder.
famous as ever
nameless as heaven
to say the least
I'm slaying beasts that
came from me
in the first place.
this is lovehate.
& it's useless.
just lemme set the mood.
mooing truly bluesy
marks & bruises
infused with martian
set to soothing violent music.
broke record store cliché
faded to frustration feeding
a creaturely need for creation
& hellish lust for selfdestruction.
just an absolute mess who
dilute the stress through allusion
***** it's a celebration.
tell the rest those losers
that got left I'm doing my best
even though I'm pretty upset
with how it's all panning out.
oh well I guess.