"carla" poems
Carla kept nudging me to learn Italian.
It is the language of lovers and liars she said, life’s two best friends,
Discipline yourself, it will teach you to sing, she offered,
Each phrase a lyric, a seduction,
It will give you an unfair advantage over younger men, she promised,
Tickle her ear with this tongue and she will shiver and unfold,
Her heart, her knees unlocked.
Italian is a calculate of rhythm, Carla suggested,
Every woman understands timing and phase,
Our life is nothing but cycles for god’s sakes,
How have you not understood this?
It is the lingua of fair play, she continued, each syllable an equal citizen,
A dialect with an innate sense of justice,
Women are as intrigued by its possibilities,
As they are by threat and danger,
Either of which you can no longer promise.
Tell a woman you love her in Italian,
Ti amo più respiro, I love you more than breath,
And her ******* will disappear,
She won’t be able to take her eyes off your lips,
And as we all know, your mouth is your hook,
Your irresistible smile, the pout, the persuasion.
You are a poet, a miracle I know,
Your words are narcotic when you put your mind to it,
I’ve heard you quell an unruly crowd;
Your resonant tone could soothe a pack of ravenous jackals.
But with that intricate face of yours,
Your accumulating age, the leather wrinkles,
Believe me, you will soon need to help to ****** even a photograph.
Enlist, become Italian, Carla told me, it is your only hope,
And she tossed the last of her wine onto the sand,
Watched the red stain saturate and fade,
And lay back to face the sun.
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 7:08 PM UTC
You murdered your daughter and you show no remorse
Then you hide behind a cross, of course
‘Cause you think your religion is a license to hate
And an excuse to discriminate
Her short life was done
Before it had begun
‘Cause you murdered your daughter
But you still call her your son
You sent her to monsters dressed in therapist’s clothes
‘Cause her comfort is something you oppose
When she told you her secret, you replied, “It’s a phase
And you’ll feel like a man one of these days”
But of course, she did not
Now I won’t let it be forgot
That you murdered your daughter
Without a second thought
And she was beautiful
Yes, she was so beautiful
But she had no chance with parents like you
Though she was beautiful
Though she was so beautiful
You cut off her wings long before she flew
With the guise of a gay man as a small stepping stone
She hoped she would not feel so alone
But instead, you denied her all her friends at her school
How can you be so selfishly cruel?
You locked her within walls
But her gender’s not your call
Yes, you murdered your daughter
You drove her to end it all
But she was beautiful
Yes, Leelah was beautiful
And yet, you denied her identity
She was so beautiful
She was so **** beautiful
But you were too hateful to let her be
Now, Douglas and Carla, let the world know your names
And the sins of which you’re not ashamed
You did not love your daughter, don’t you act like you did
You probably didn’t see her as your kid
Don’t pretend that you’re sad
You’re not a mom and dad
‘Cause you murdered your daughter
For the son you never had
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 9:30 PM UTC
I’m on my way… to my own personal… on the inside…
Celebration… ya know?
Cuz I realized… I already did the tuffest jobs I’ll ever do…
I done raised my kids…
loved my loves…
bumped my head…
learned my lessons…
fought my fights…
forgiven my foes…
and finally…finally…
forgiven…
my… self..
And I’ve come far…
A long loooong way…
But I know I still got a long way to go…
So
I just might get me a push-up bra…
and a low-cut blouse…
And maybe a weave… and some New Journey shoes…
For my new journey.. some new high heels will
Certainly do…
Heels high enuf to make my
Thighs stand out… and
My ankle turn just so... and
My Hips sway when I step… and
My skirt tail snap when I pass… and
When I pass…
I’ma give a little look over my shoulder… like this…
So you can see…
That I saw you see me…
But I’m just gon give a LITTLE look
Cuz I can’t look BACK
For TOO long!
See, I might be tempted to TURN back…
An try to
re-do somethin’… or
explain somethin’... or
fix somethin’… or
cry over somethin’…
And I’ve just plain come too far!!!
Baby… I’ve
Come too far to turn back now…
And still got a long long way to go…
Come Too Far To Turn Back Now
Carla Marie 2012
Jan 18, 2012
Jan 18, 2012 at 3:37 PM UTC
Blanket of diva fireflies… celebration of Summer Dusk… silently
dancing… their flashy dance… syncopated rhythm… six inches
above… the bobbing heads… of too tall grass… twinkling… twirling...
ebbing… flowing… ‘til Mr. Moon shows up… and tries to wreck this party...
but it ain’t over… cuz the crickets… always in the mood to
jam… bust out with that sweet percussion… while... cicadas come in
softly… then crest... then moan... those serious background
vocals… the alley cats howl a funky refrain… and the night owls
work the chorus…
seducing me to join…
but…
since I’m…
not flashy… not rhythmic… can’t howl… and don’t moan…
I just bring some sweet tea… lie in the too tall grass…
and enjoy the show...
Come Too Far To Turn Back Now
Carla Marie 2012
Jan 18, 2012
Jan 18, 2012 at 3:43 PM UTC
Carla said we must talk about love.
If it doesn’t define, it doesn’t exist, she said,
And pulled the two nearest stools away from the bar.
Has anyone you have ever known- anyone-
Ever offered you even a pitiful explanation
Of this bewildering word
She asked me,
In that way she has
Of not asking me at all.
She lit her pipe,
Her first exhale a ceremonial cloud,
A white tobacco fog,
A linger that purchased my childhood memories,
The pungency of three fingers of scotch, neat, at dawn,
The south face picture window ablaze with
The painful flood of an early sun,
A tin can stereo in full lament about cowboy love
And the inevitability of betrayal,
My father off key,
All his memories a libel and a calumny.
If I say I lust for you, you know what I mean, Carla said,
If I question your loyalty there is no obfuscation,
If I tell you in my sleepy voice the wine is delicious,
You are tempted to sample,
But if a man tells a woman he loves her
What conclusions will she abide,
Carla asked me with a stare.
Do you even know anyone who can utter the words I love you,
Without feelings of hysteria, near mental collapse,
Or worse-farce, she asked.
We tell people we love them to calm them,
To manipulate them,
To play magic tricks on them, Carla said,
Love is an adolescent stage,
A toxic teenage mix and of oestrogen and testosterone,
Romeo and Juliet were children for ***** sakes, Carla said,
As she drank half of her breakfast scotch,
And began to blow perfect smoke rings
In the mirror still stale air
Of the Rock Hen all day, all night, all the time bar.
I just know I love my dog, I replied,
And I held my finger up,
To see if Carla could circle it perfectly with a smoke ring,
Which she did.
And I don’t even know why, I said,
I guess I love how he needs me and doesn’t resent it,
Even as I disappoint him and neglect him,
Forget to feed him, force him to *** in the rain,
He still wags his appreciation with gusto.
Perhaps we can only love our dogs,
Carla replied,
Or perhaps we should all have tails,
And she ordered us lemonade and tequila
With scrambled eggs, french toast and a *** of blueberries.
Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 11:27 PM UTC
"Janice, I sat next to you in Latin.
We were sophomores.
You were a cheerleader
but smart too.
The excitement was unbearable
(Cicero; the shape of your sweater . . . ).
I asked you to play tennis."
"You did never."
"Yes, I did."
"I suppose I didn't want to get sweaty."
"So then you would have gone with me to a movie?"
"No, I doubt it. . . . I was a brat."
"You were divine.
I wrote a poem for you in Latin."
"Lynda, we met at The Three Penny Opera.
You were an usher.
I was a college student; you were in high school."
"Yes, a 'townie'."
"I put my arm around you.
I stroked your hair.
When I tried to kiss you on the forehead our noses collided."
"I was expecting a lip kiss."
"It was a powerful attraction,
but it wouldn't have worked."
"No, we could have made great love,
but it wouldn't have lasted."
"Gina, you lived on that 'hippie farm'
at the edge of town.
I was the 'knowing elder',
the one who'd worked on a real farm.
You were so high-energy, so alluring.
Guys flocked to you:
William and Michael; Davy, back home;
sexually involved with all of them."
"Not Michael really."
"You seduced me--
I think you wanted to make William jealous--
not that I was unwilling. . . .
I was, however, impotent."
"I wanted adventure and, yes, I suppose I did want to make
William jealous."
"Our intimacy awakened me.
I realized what I'd been missing.
Your rejection was devastating."
"I didn't mean to hurt you.
I didn't know you were so fragile."
"Carla, I loved you in your apartment.
It was all softness and warmth;
**** carpet, soft bed,
Carole King on the stereo. . . .
We slept together, showered together."
"I really listened to Carole King?"
"Your parents were divorcing.
You didn't have time for a relationship."
"I don't think I was ready."
"Just as I was overcoming my impotency. . . ."
"Sarah, I loved you on a camping trip.
We kissed at dusk in the Great Smoky Mountains."
"I remember."
"I felt so connected--
physically, intellectually, emotionally.
You smiled with your whole face, with your whole being.
I wanted to be with you steadily.
You said it wouldn't work.
I guess you were right:
I couldn't love someone who couldn't love me completely.
When we parted,
I cried uncontrollably."
"Yes,
I remember."
Dec 1, 2021
Dec 1, 2021 at 11:00 PM UTC
Carla said I must fast, no food, only water,
For the first three days of the New Year.
Your body yearns to have your mind in control, she told me,
This is the fatal flaw in all your attempts at happiness, she said,
If you ever stop searching for the source of your misery,
In a bowl of poutine or between the legs of an ingénue,
God this pathetic ability you have to impress young women,
Will you ever free yourself from the haste of ***
The burst and blinding flash of ******
I’ve seen you writhe and discharge,
Only to watch you tremble
And discover once again how alone you are.
Without ****** life is meaningless I explained,
And I watched the maple syrup slip, slide and curl
Into the center of my bowl of porridge.
******* Carla said,
If I lightly brush my fingernails up the side of your arm
You will shiver,
A faux ****** right here in this slovenly kitchen of yours,
*** in a carnival act, almost a trick,
Evolution isn’t your friend, she said, it doesn’t want you to think.
It wants you to **** and die,
To fertilize and retire
And so it offers you this cheesy reward,
An ****** an insult, in hopes you will fornicate and forget.
You have a mind, or a remnant,
Embrace chastity for year
And then thank me for the clarity,
Start with your fast, immediately, she said
Carla leaned into me
And picked up my bowl of porridge.
The sweet smell of syrup lingered forever.
Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 6:23 PM UTC
Men are doomed, Carla told me,
It’s your eternal haircuts, she continued,
How can you sculpt a life from a single shape,
One look,
Every mirror an impersonation
Of the initial version of one’s self,
Each day reduced to a child’s calculation,
You wake up, only older, grayer, a withered rasp,
Ever more discouraged by the unfairness of things.
Carla exhaled a dragon’s torrent
White jet streams unfurled out of both nostrils,
A waft of my father’s morning scent.
With a flick of her thumb,
She snapped the ash
Off the end of her cigar.
A sharp hiss as the ember sizzled and sank
In the shallow of a pavement puddle.
It had cold rained most of the day.
Over a pause, the sky roiling with indigestion,
We bundled up in autumn clothes,
And trudged uptown,
Our chins tucked deep into our chests,
Our squinty eyes glued to our shoes,
The wind had a slap to it.
It isn’t war you should fear, she continued,
It’s robots.
Soon we won’t need you for anything,
Carla jabbed her lacquered fingernail at phantoms as she spoke.
Women have been fornicating with machines
For over a hundred years, she said,
The transition for us has already occurred.
Weld and solder us a pleasant replica,
One that can shine a toilet
Sterilize the dishes, **** us brilliantly,
And recite Shakespeare at will-
Believe me,
Soon we will barter for your *********
Exchanging bitcoins for the innate,
With no intention of ever attending your funeral.
No the war is over and men have lost, Carla repeated.
She walked ahead me,
Her hips a sashay as she spit a loose bit of tobacco leaf
Onto a lamp post.
I could not persuade my eyes to look away.
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 9:36 PM UTC
Carla ran away,
When I was ten.
She ran away
And nobody went after her.
She took her things -
her toys, her panda,
And she left, on the street,
she said, "To seek a better life."
But I thought that I was a good brother.
And I thought that she still loved me.
And I loved my sister,
So I went after her.
I told my mom, "Let's go after her."
But she said "Carla will come back."
I was afraid
That something might happen before then.
When Carla ran away,
I was alone then
And I was scared then
And then I realized:
Just because I am
the Older Brother,
It doesn't mean that I don't need
Somebody to take care of me.
May 15, 2010
May 15, 2010 at 10:28 AM UTC
Carla,
Whom I love and regret in equal measure,
Told me to talk less and think only in the morning.
It’s unfair, she said, for someone with your demons,
To obsess past mid day.
You will only exhaust yourself,
Become dizzy from looking over your shoulder.
It’s the sparrow’s lunch you eat, she said
Afterwards you think only of suicide,
It’s your pathetic answer to everything.
You have a propensity, an absolute need to confess, Carla advised me,
You see sin as an obligation,
As a necessity to fuel your ridiculous notion of salvation,
Repentance is a shell game,
No sooner have you apologized for being yourself,
Than you begin sinning all over again.
Your quest for innocence is a self-selected Sisyphean task.
I told her I had no idea what she was talking about,
And that if she wanted to save me she had to speak in simpler terms.
Quit looking for the meaning in things, Carla said,
Life is lived on the surface,
What we really fear is not that we will die,
But how we will die,
I mean good god,
The insane Christians
Have us picturing death
With nails driven through our hands and feet,
Hanging from a crucifix,
Can you imagine the indignity,
While some low level centurion,
Stabs at us with a sword,
I mean really,
Hauling crosses up mountainsides
Being laughed at and scorned in our weakest moment,
The drama is laughable,
When the absolute truth is most of us
Will die peacefully in our sleep,
Gone without even knowing the party is over.
Replace your metaphysics with a game of chess, Carla told me,
At least do psilocybin once in awhile
And have a genuine spiritual experience,
And she held up her hand for two more glasses of scotch,
Neat,
And lit her cigar.
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 7:10 PM UTC
Promises to myself …
This is the last time...
Walk as far away as my will
Will take me
But the ****
Like Bell
Has long distance capability
Turn off my ear
But
My Jones
Like the Postman
Rain Snow Sleet or Hail
Always gets through
Making me do
Things I said
I would not do
In places I said
I would not go
And I know
That I’m wrong...
Too got-dam old
For this foolishness… and
Getting older by
The sack… or
The line… or
The bump… and
I promise myself
I’m gon stop…
This is the last time… and
I mean it this time
Just like I mean it
Every time
Until the
Next time
But before I know...
Today’s perfect drain
Eases yesterday’s pain
And my heart is racing
To beat
The hair now standing
On the
Back of my neck
To the top of my head...
And everything is okay…
All is well…
With the whole ****** world…
On through the night... and
Well into
Day
With a
Kamikaze Nose-Dive Crash
Into reality
And I hate me again… and make
Promises to myself…
This is the last time...
Walk as far away as my will
Will take me
But the ****
Like Bell
Has long distance capability
Turn off my ear
But my Jones…
Come Too Far To Turn Back Now
Carla Marie 2011
Jan 20, 2012
Jan 20, 2012 at 1:23 PM UTC
Carla Simmons is gonna be a freshman at Bates Academy in two weeks. She was born in Nebraska and lived there until about two months into summer break. She and her family moved there when her parents were offered jobs to be agents for the Teens Acting Agency. Her parents learned how to be agents after about three years of college in Boston before moving to Nebraska shortly after having her older sister, Maddie. Her sister is now a freshman at LA Acting Academy in Los Angeles, California. Carla only lives about an hour and forty-five minutes away. But she still misses her sister as if she were on the other side of the world. Maddie was the only one who understood her and now she wasn’t gonna be there. But Maddie said that as soon as Carla needed her she’d be there in an instant. Her sister has a car and says that as long as she has a way to get there, she will. Carla is really nervous because no one in this town knows anything about her. No one except for her new teachers and the people where her parents work. Carla is so nervous because she knows that she has something that might get her either laughed or stared at if it happens at school. Her parents try to tell her that other kids do it every now and then. But Carla is still worried because she can’t control it. At any moment, even if she had the best night sleep in the world. No matter how early she goes to bed and how late she gets up in the morning. She is always so tired that she will fall asleep anytime at anyplace. It happens every day and there’s nothing she can do about it. Well, she could talk medicine to help with it. But she says that she doesn't think it would do any good. So she just decides to let it be. So now she has to go to school and hope that nothing happens. How will her life turn out? Read the California Life of Carla Simmons and find out.
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 2:04 PM UTC
I talk to myself
I talk to myself and that’s okay cuz
I like myself
I know what to expect from myself
I’m never ever rude to myself
Or even a little bit sarcastic with myself
I have been known to deceive myself
And do occasionally surprise myself
Though I can usually predict
What’s going to happen with myself
Every now and again I let myself
Down
But that’s to be expected as myself
Is only human
So when it is necessary
To get a grip on myself
I set aside
A little time
To
Talk to myself
...To The Things That I've Learned Along The Way
Carla Marie 2011
Jan 18, 2012
Jan 18, 2012 at 4:12 PM UTC
Keep hold on the standing bass
and *** *** ba-dum us to a slow dance,
because the two step’s too quick
and I want to hear some sad trumpet improv;
The perfect impression of us in love.
It’s too humid here,
I can see sweat race down well-worn wrinkles
eroded into Ms. Carla from 30 years of cabaret.
She sways on the microphone,
while her deep voice hangs in the air,
fragrant, and ready to stifle the pairs
mixing love and lust beneath her stage
They move,
sweaty and close,
***** and dark,
familiar-passionate
slow,
but furious.
Another evening of Jazz and ***
So this night passes,
a melody in my head
leading a world within my arms
as we rock,
ba-ba-ba-dummed by the bass.
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 9:35 PM UTC
those cold, cozy nights
2 am conversations-- those were to die for
the coolest books; movies that should be seen at least once
heaven knows you might actually be meant for me
you were one hell of a disaster;
a bitter-sweet disaster
I'm hoping that the boy next to you would die just to be with you
'cause I'd probably bleed myself just to feel your warmth again
the smell of that sweet heartbreak
I miss you;
you and your pale skin, curly brown hair and everything;
everything that makes you, oh so lovely
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 9:30 AM UTC
Chiara, Arturo's wife, approached them together with
Lucca and Francesca, the other Italian pair
Saying, ''Was Quare's invention real? I thought it was a myth.''
'' His barometer measures the pressure of the air.''
Chiara was wearing a red gown, with lace trimming the low,
A green velvet mantel, which was lined with some ermine,
Square neckline and sleeves, which were gathered at the elbow.
She spoke well Italian, Spanish, and German.
Italians wanted to disembark at Syracuse.
Bella and Miguel traveled to Barcelona home.
To find a new home, Naimah and his son had an excuse.
Out of their Turkey's limit, through the storms, they would roam.
Tia, Athan, Megan, and Karsten would disembark
At Selanik, an Ottoman province, where Ahmed
The Third was reigning while his war was a fire in the dark.
They were Greeks being born during the reign of Mehmed.
Marco and Rosa, Cruz and Pedra, Pedro and Carla
Were Portuguese pairs coming home from America.
They had bought from the Pueblo Indians some ollas.
They gave one to the Russian pair, Ivan, and Erica.
Ivan said, ''Tell me something about these Indians.''
Carla said, ''Their belief means dualism; they eat corn.
Some became Catholic due to the Spanish civilians.
They think they emerged from underwater to be born.''
Carla wore a black cap, having a veil, and a green gown
Patterned with acorns and flowers, and her sleeves were caught
With jeweled clasps on lace at the elbow; her eyes were brown.
''The water is fresh in the ollas, I like them a lot.''
She asked Ivan’’ Now, where do you go? ’’ ‘’We left the war.’’
''Ahmed and Peter the First! '' replied Cruz, '' tell me something,
How could you reach Constantinople after coming from far? ''
''I do trade with them, but this war destroyed everything.''
''Did you lose everything you had? '' Marco asked Ivan.
''To make business in Turkey, I sold all my Russian goods.''
Erica tried this conversation to enliven,
''In Portugal, we'll search for a job in cities and hoods.''
Marco wore a banyan with a patterned lining; his cuffs
Were embroidered in gold; his justacorps and stockings
Over his breeches were red like Rosa's shoes and muffs.
All of them wore periwigs and talked a lot while walking.
( To be continued...)
Poem by Marieta Maglas
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 8:54 PM UTC
I will never
floss because
getting drilled
turns me on
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 5:15 PM UTC
I tried to not take us
so seriously because
in the wake of a long
stream of non-commital
commitments, I've
begun to understand
how intense I become
when someone matters
to me on a personal level,
that's why I left you alone
when I found out about Marla
and Darla and Carla and all
of the Lala's that you ******
and then you decided to be
different for a day (let's be honest.
more like five minutes tops)
and you found yourself
with the proud and loud
feminist, Mandie with *an
i-e* in your bed and I keep
telling myself, *it's not the
feminists fault that she likes
men. This man. My man.*
And so I decided un-invite you
to the party I'll be throwing
for you in honor of you
being accepted into so and so
acting program in the city.
I'll drink everything they
bring for you, **** everyone
that only loves you. I'll
leave your car beneath
some distant bridge,
**** your boss and
and take me a little more.
It's not your fault I didn't
take us seriously.
It's not your fault
the feminist liked
you more than me.
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 3:50 PM UTC
.love u my amazin dad so much it takes my breathe away...❤️❤️
Poem written by (Carla Goldie)me..
STAND WITH US...
Are world has just got smaller,
Where confused,it's hard to think.
Nothins makin sense like when u have 2 much 2 drink,
Where lost an feelin helpless,
There's a hole left in r hearts,
who r we 2 go 2 wen things start t fall apart,
R worlds been left in pieces dad,
We don't no wha t do,
There's no1 else t fix this..the only 1 who could was u..
We've loved u since forever,
We've always bin r number 1,
Dad come stand here with us,
In r hearts u still live on
U will forever b r hero,
We felt so proud t look up to,
Wen things got hard u held r hand an helped t pull us through
So thank you dad were grateful,
For all the times tha u where..
A million times dad thank u..
Tha it was us ur love u shared..
But now r strength is in each other,
That's the way it has t b,
4 the last time dad stand with us,
Forever, U,John,Leanne and me...xx
*** Love u 4Eva miss u everyday my amazin dad life's so quite with out u
Aug 19, 2017
Aug 19, 2017 at 1:12 PM UTC
When
doors open with no breeze
chimes sing with no wind
ya blunts keep goin out… and
Candle flames sputter
You’ll know it’s me
Passin through
to color your aura blue
raise your vibration and leave
my scent in your shirt
palo santo or eucalyptus
In the air…
just
breathe deeply Baby…
exhale slowly Darlin…
and feel betta
cuz it’s just me
Carla-Marie
to get on your nerves
or make you smile
or both
as per usual
Apr 21, 2023
Apr 21, 2023 at 10:02 PM UTC
keep singing me sad songs, I don't want to forget this feeling and I need you to tell me you don't love me so I can hear it rip my heart out just like the birds do to those poor worms they tear from the ground and that's the place where I fell so hard, breaking, cracking, snapping my jaw once it hit the Ice covered soil. they laughed like the hyenas in the jungle and I hid away in the basement and Margot did too. same with that bedroom, Margot was there too. Conor saves us all from the burning fire of our minds and we couldn't escape til Dan came. Mr Danny, why are you so sad? there's pints of whiskey in the corner. look to the sky, said Margot. and mother, let me go you gotta let this birdie fly if I'll ever grow and maybe it'll rain, I need a good rinse. wait, do you hear that? the music? or is that moaning? oh no it's Ramona crying? oh goodness she is screaming. Bethany, baby, what is the matter stop screaming. it'll only hurt a little bit, you needed it to be taken sometime right? your skirt looked too inviting for me to resist. I swear Carla wanted it. She even asked Helena to join us. but why is she screaming too? Father said this is the way to find love. But love isn't how him and mother was wasn't it? he was the airplanes coming to a crash and mother was the ambulance but seemingly every night they threw glass at each other. I just hope I did my math homework. I swear, I'll clean my room later and I'm sorry I didn't do the dishes and maybe you'll love me once again but my dearest I have no heart and my blood doesn't pump so when you kiss me don't be frightened I am not the ground I am the sky.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 4:02 PM UTC
I watched her dance with her bright red crop
At a party of Do or Dare,
Strutting her stuff on a table top
I knew I could have her there.
For she mouthed at me, ‘You’re the only one,’
As she stripped right down to the buff,
I mouthed, ‘You’re on,’ but she still danced on
I’d never have seen enough.
While all the others would reach and *****
I stood well back and I stared,
She tipped champagne all over their heads
All over the ones that dared,
She fell down into my open arms
Once she had finished her dance,
While Emma Lou took her place up there,
But I’d found a new romance.
I’d gone to the party for Emma Lou
Who’d wanted to meet me there,
She’d said, ‘I feel like taking a chance,
The party’s a Do or Dare.’
We’d only dated a month or two
But that hadn’t got too far,
We’d gone for drinks at the Seven Links
And necked in the back of the car.
But Carla Deane was a ginger dream
For flames had danced in her hair,
The prettiest body I’d ever seen,
I knew she wanted to share,
For in my arms I could feel her charms
And she raised her lips for a kiss,
Her silken skin promised treats within
And who was I to resist?
She dressed again, it was almost ten
When she took me home to her flat,
And poured a couple of highballs, then
She suddenly said, ‘That’s that!’
It seems her wager with Emma Lou
Said she could steal me away,
If she could, anyone else could too,
She didn’t intend to play.
I felt like the dog with a juicy bone
Stood staring into a stream,
And seeing my own reflection there
I’d dropped the bone for a dream.
For Emma Lou never came to call
The bone I’d managed to drop
For one swept over a waterfall
Who’d danced on a table top.
David Lewis Paget
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 3:01 AM UTC
Suga Booga Marshmallow milkshake pink clouds two ***** fingers
and a saucy meatball, its chill she says, thats the title, giggles to herself and Juniper Rose smiles somewhere as she raps Me and Mr. Horner standing on the corner
An old roommate Carla, told me she liked the sound of the keys because it sounded productive.
she eats a cookie and says she did it, is proud, says its good and makes some tea laughs along to the ring, chocolate chip cookies left at our door,
how lucky are we, these cherokee blankets, small pox, Covid 9, staring at the sun,
we live in a world where its dangerous to hug someone you love
Jul 29, 2020
Jul 29, 2020 at 6:17 PM UTC
Carla in strength
Stood at his side
Words of love
Held his hand
Awaiting a rescue
A withdrawl advised
Sean hung in
The doctors did all
Their fingers a forlorn grip
Alone asleep Carla sensed his pulling aura
He teetered with a toehold outside her windowsill
Carla ventured back
Sean no eyes for this world
A last breath, a lingering feeling of remorse
He stayed to say goodbye
Life on earth now spent
Like a double helix now parted
Carla’s clutches the book of memories
Bound by precious silk reddened threads
Awaiting a day to again exchange vows
A welcoming kiss to light a path united
A love that will survive
Jan 31, 2021
Jan 31, 2021 at 4:34 PM UTC