I'm writing to you on the eve of glory
To tell you I had no choice but to let you go.
Your veins were poisoned by the act of savagery,
And you became a person I could never wish to know.

Your emerald eyes were all lit up,
Just like the cigarette that once calmed your stress.
Your hair was tied back by one single clip:
Messy, vintage-like, just as your dress.

I recall the first words you ever spoke to me:
They included, of course, Prince Charming's name.
And since you awoke one morning and stepped into reality,
You just simply have not been the same.

What was it that spiked you?
What broke inside your pure heart?
Was it there all along, just looming in the background?
Or have I been naive from the very start?

I based my dreams on the world that you had.
You were my motive to remain strong:
To hold on hoping that one day I could have it too.
Even a piece of me broke, when you proved yourself wrong.

And days have passed since I last thought of you.
Weeks too, since we've seen eye-to-eye.
Your heart turned cold and your mind went dark..
I just want to know why?

So Lady Cheyenne, if you're reading this, I ask you
To find yourself a mirror, and dare to look through:
Take a look at the person who is staring within the silver,
And I want you to acknowledge that she is not you.

(with apologies to Elizabeth Barret Browning)

                                        Arrogant
­Book Soldier
Conceited
Con Artist
Covetous
Cunning
Deceitful
Disingenuou­s
Egoist
Egregious
Envious
Entitled
         ­                               Evil
Haughty
Hypocritica­l
Ignominious
Immoral
Jealous
Jumped Up
Machiavellian
Martinet
Mendacious
Nit Picky
                                        Obsessed
Peck Sniff
Perfidious
Persnickety
Pompous
Popinjay­
Predatory
****
Rapacious
Regimental
San­ctimonious
                                        Self Important
Shylock
Smarmy
Sophist
Supercilious­
Unctuous
Unethical
                                   ­     Vile
                                        Vicious
       ­                                 Zealot
       ljm

.
No my Darling, that is not snow.
Its not winter, it should be colder.
No my Darling, that is not snow.
Its just dandruff on your shoulder.

No my Dear, I am not in pain.
Neither am I hurting, or showing grief.
No my Dear, I am not in pain.
Its the lettuce in between your teeth.

Yes my Love, I am listening.
I was just temporarily distracted.
Yes my Love, I am listening.
But your friend is so attractive.

No my Sweet, its not that draughty.
Its not windy, you've got it wrong.
No my Sweet, its not that draughty.
Your skirts caught in your thong.

No my Darling, that is not snow.
It can't be true, its a wrong fact.
No my Darling, that is not snow.
Its just ******* on your compact.


© Pagan Paul (31/03/17)

limbs of the fallen
upon a funeral pyre
failed offerings to a careless sun
the sacred forest lies in ruin
trilliums no more to flower
silence mocks the land
no songbirds in the bower
spires from the wreckage
rise verdant and aflame
magenta resurrection
wild and untamed

fine Furhman's Funeral Home
used the best alchemy money could
buy, to keep her flesh fresh

and a master seamstress
sewed her wicked wounds so not
a single soul could see

she was stabbed forty times
from her rubicund cheeks to her
pedicured toes

Furhman's was the best, above
the mediocre rest, in gifting mourners
with a pleasant view

when I got their bill in the mail
it had an itemized list, which included
a charge I had to contest

not because of penury or pettiness
for I am a wealthy weeping father, but
I couldn't see spending a red dime

for crimson polish they painted
on dead toes, slid in slick hose, and
hid in patent leather shoes

my wife said write a check for the
full amount, crying this was not about
what we the living could yet see

Baton Rouge, April, 1989