Reading Poetry

Mar 13, 2005 11:31 # 34175

one_man_riot * isn't happy...

My first post

79% | 3

The woman walking across the hard wood floor blues

love is a moron
we know this to be true
even when a wise man loves
it makes him out to be a fool
there was a loser in heaven
it's forever, i just don't feel like myself
because it's hard to get over
when they put you in your tomb
because it's magic and splendor
when you walk in from the other room
with the candles all a-glow
you put on quite a show
i will seize the remedy the way
your lips miss mine
to reach the end of rosy red kisses
tender misses
it's no one's fault
the worm crawls along
eats the cancer in the dirt
of a one-eyed worm song
we drank some darkness
we drank it down
there are no lights
we stayed up all night
it frustrates the darkness
and deepens the pit
it's not my friend
i am not at peace with it
all ways keeping company with my enemies
its misery has sharp teeth
but let's not forget it's lovely
violent death
everything's all a gloom and a broom
in a ten-dollar room
transients welcome
a variation on a theme
that is the most crackpipe looking crackpipe
i've ever seen
john coltrane's "love supreme"
is the last lost door of tender groveling music
primitive woman
what have i done
to have wrought such a loser's blues
it's hard to get high
it's too soon to die
it's just you and i in the demon's eye
that angel's blues put a spell on you
alone in a darkened room
i am going to tell you
that when i die yore the only fruit
i want in my eye
we'll go out on the town
light a few fires
you wear that red dress and i will hold your hand
i knew you'd understand
she turns the sin
and bends the sliver of light
to the burning night
her old man lost her in a crowded peace
now she gives her love to a new beast
tonight, i don't want dishes in the sink
i don't want to be afraid if the world burns down
when, see, she, my baby gets unruly
she turns out all of the merry-go-round sentences
and i don't mind a kneeling death
lest she break her half in two
you don't know what to do
so you hang around and wait for something new
tonight, i am the long yellow of the grave
no war has been won
heaven hears your old lonesome song
these hard times can't last for very long
my, how life imitates art until
finally there isn't any art after all
it's just you and the hard wood floor blues
alone in a cheap room
with broken neon tubes
in broken windows.

~love is a moron

This post was edited by one_man_riot on Mar 13, 2005.

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