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The devil came to me last night. He slank up slow behind me, slipped his hand around my waist. A serpent tounge tasted me. Charisma. This was my tormentor. Desire. All wrapped up in Gucci and Dior.

I have a headache today, it will ache tomorrow. My brain is tired, my body to. A creature on the rack. And torn. The lower-middle class. I'm a nice girl. Fucking bad boys. Primly pleated skirts. Of course, I'm only nice because

Satan pulled my closer. Murmered something thick and tart. Like residue of powder off a card. He wanted me.

daddy couldn't bare the thought I hadn't had a private school. So there I was. Being taught that it is fun to be a socialist. When you have a glass of Veuve Clicquot.

I wanted him right there. High on Want. Demon eyes my mind would swear I'd seen before. I didn't care if he wanted me or not.

So I saw it all. I never danced with princes, but I got my ticket to the pre-ball.. And I think I fucked the waiter there.. but I really don't rememeber. But now it's back to Levis. And I really needed Deisel.

He looked me up and down once again, and didn't ask. He didn't have the time. 'it's a liability' I say, take it away. And I leave with all I wanted.

I see those pretty girls that look me up and down and hold on tighter to their boyfriend's arm. I've fucked royalty. He cried on me. I sold it all to Womans Day.

I wake up with a smile and I laugh every day.

------
-Lu


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The following comments are for "took (none), messed with it, put it back."
by Lu

devil made me do it
Lu- this is an intriguing poem with a fresh style and form but it's kind of a mess. I'll be grooving on it and all of a sudden come on a line or phrase that throws me (Satan pulled my closer?) (daddy could't bare....fun to be a socialist?) The daddy/socialist lines don't seem to fit in this poem. Didn't understand what you were referring to as a "liability." Also spelling ("to" when it should be "too").

Otherwise, I think this is a fresh and vivacious poem.

I thought I had drunk everything, but I've never heard of Veuve Cliquot. Sounds exotic.

You've got some killer lines: "High on want" - "murmered something thick and tart" - "I sold it all to Womans Day."

( Posted by: gomarsoap [Member] On: October 3, 2003 )

title
P.S: What's with the title? I just couldn't suss that out whatsoever.

( Posted by: gomarsoap [Member] On: October 4, 2003 )

mess
I'm glad that you though that this was a mess. I had something else submitted (none), wasn't happy with some bits of it but really couldn't be bothered going over it in earnest, came home drunk and brutalised some bits that I didn't like without really even bothering to give consideration to the rest. It started off reasonably harmless but by the end had regressed into a thinly-veiled freudian tirade.

Much like a frustrated adolescent who has been tearing up a room and finally reaches the crescendo of his wrath, I looked upon my destruction as creation and rendered it a sanctimonous monstrousity.

Hence.

Veuve Cliquot is a Champagne - a standard NV bottle of Veuve costs about the same as a standard bottle NV Moet.

( Posted by: Lu [Member] On: October 5, 2003 )

I'll drink some bubbly to that
"came home drunk...brutalized some...regressed...freudian tirade...crescendo...wrath...monstrosity!"

Ah, creativity...ain't it grand?

( Posted by: gomarsoap [Member] On: October 8, 2003 )

edge
A pendulum swing between creativity and intellectual masturbation, a knife edge between brilliance and shit.

I'm not sure why I keep this published. but it's staying for now because it reminds me that when you can't be truly brilliant, it's sometimes nice jst to do an outstanding job of being shit.

( Posted by: lu [Member] On: October 8, 2003 )

No commments ;)
All I can say is that fjooking owned!!! \m/

( Posted by: gaschamberblues [Member] On: October 8, 2003 )





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