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Array ( [sid] => 122891 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Ever Lusting [time] => 2006-07-08 00:01:57 [hometext] => This is a long piece of vomit I've grown kind of fond of, wrote it out fast in a 15 minute spree, needs g-corrections, tell me what you think [bodytext] => I was broke down on the side of the road
I had an engine running sour and a mighty-heavy load
I watched as the sun above me began to wither and corrode
And the trees seemed to fall with it

I ached, as my thumb grew bitterly sore
Not knowing why I held it up anymore
No car was ever going to open up that door
Or at least that’s how it seemed

Then she came driving in a two-seated car
The exotic woman I’d met at the bar
I’d wondered how she’d gotten so far
In this hot New England weather

Her high beams shot out through the night
They brightened my eyes and brought in the light
She was wearing sunglasses and it didn’t seem right
You know it wasn’t the time for that

And we’d got hitched because she picked me up
It might seem kind of reckless but it wasn’t corrupt
We drank from the same kind of exoteric cup
But I never thought that my conscience should be trusting

Collecting my idea,
That sad old fact that she was ever lusting

Billy told me Grandpa never gave him a chance
On numbering his reasons or stating his stance
That the old tool had never given him a glance
I guess it’s common for old tools to do so

And he broke the handle on my get-away car
As we winced to make out the northern star
He’d promised the cabin was a ways but not too far
As we’d passed the cities boarder

But I could see it in his eyes this was all about her
How she’d questioned him in what he promised sure
And how I’d gotten suckered into the heist was an all around blur
I couldn’t make out whom to blame there

He screamed about how she brought out the worst in his actions
She’d mimicked his grandfather in all her reactions
And that planning this gig was just set of distractions
Well you can imagine, I’d rather heard the truth

So he confessed he hated love while we rolled into a ditch
And cursed her with his last breaths and his bodies last twitch
I made it out wise, wish I’d have made it out rich
But I grabbed the jewels as he coughed curses out mustering

His greatest fear,
That sad old fact that she was ever lusting

You leave her with the house while you take a weekend cruise
Not figuring out the fortunes you’re on your way to loose
Not picking up or addressing any of her clues
As you come home to meet the pool cleaner

And the man in his Calvin Klein designer suit
Wonders why the cleaner’s at his forbidden fruit
He’s got that pistol from the closet but he doesn’t know where to shoot
At the wife, at the man, at the temple

That entire world seems to wind around his head
Of the promises entrusted in a ring and the words they’d both said
Who’d known a weekend in Bermuda could have found a better path lead
Then a broken home with a shattered man and some cracking old lies

So simply falling down at the legs of his trophy wife
He looks at his palace and at his misconstrued life
So caught up in the drama he doesn’t see the knife
That the pool man keeps in his pocket for just such a situation

And staggering around the home he knocks the pool table in two
The balls topple to the floor as he crunches right through
And blood stains the green material just purchased and new
At an auction house on the account of it, the table will be dusting

Due to that sad old fact that she was ever lusting

So we drive along and I leave my car behind a memory
Looking into the night I previously couldn’t see
Watching a couple of guys in a one-door van hit a tree
Thinking no one needs to be in that kind of rush

And I see one get out and he waves us to stop
As he’s clogged on the head by a nightstick from a cop
I could make him out to his last stagger and drop
I know police brutality when I see it

I fumble through the things evading my mistress’s eyes
Find a newspaper and begin to read into current lies
“Wife and Cleaner arrested, wealthy playboy dies”
Sad story, must have been a hoax

Just then I stare at her and she’s looking back at me
I wonder if it’s into my eyes cause pass her shades I can’t see
But I best remain a ghost to her, because I’d rather be free
I know even if she doesn’t, love has a way of rusting

And in my brief time here I’ve learned,
That sad old fact that she was ever lusting
[comments] => 4 [counter] => 152 [topic] => 43 [informant] => franciswolf [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 3 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
Ever Lusting

Contributed by franciswolf on Saturday, 8th July 2006 @ 12:01:57 AM in AEST
Topic: oops



I was broke down on the side of the road
I had an engine running sour and a mighty-heavy load
I watched as the sun above me began to wither and corrode
And the trees seemed to fall with it

I ached, as my thumb grew bitterly sore
Not knowing why I held it up anymore
No car was ever going to open up that door
Or at least that’s how it seemed

Then she came driving in a two-seated car
The exotic woman I’d met at the bar
I’d wondered how she’d gotten so far
In this hot New England weather

Her high beams shot out through the night
They brightened my eyes and brought in the light
She was wearing sunglasses and it didn’t seem right
You know it wasn’t the time for that

And we’d got hitched because she picked me up
It might seem kind of reckless but it wasn’t corrupt
We drank from the same kind of exoteric cup
But I never thought that my conscience should be trusting

Collecting my idea,
That sad old fact that she was ever lusting

Billy told me Grandpa never gave him a chance
On numbering his reasons or stating his stance
That the old tool had never given him a glance
I guess it’s common for old tools to do so

And he broke the handle on my get-away car
As we winced to make out the northern star
He’d promised the cabin was a ways but not too far
As we’d passed the cities boarder

But I could see it in his eyes this was all about her
How she’d questioned him in what he promised sure
And how I’d gotten suckered into the heist was an all around blur
I couldn’t make out whom to blame there

He screamed about how she brought out the worst in his actions
She’d mimicked his grandfather in all her reactions
And that planning this gig was just set of distractions
Well you can imagine, I’d rather heard the truth

So he confessed he hated love while we rolled into a ditch
And cursed her with his last breaths and his bodies last twitch
I made it out wise, wish I’d have made it out rich
But I grabbed the jewels as he coughed curses out mustering

His greatest fear,
That sad old fact that she was ever lusting

You leave her with the house while you take a weekend cruise
Not figuring out the fortunes you’re on your way to loose
Not picking up or addressing any of her clues
As you come home to meet the pool cleaner

And the man in his Calvin Klein designer suit
Wonders why the cleaner’s at his forbidden fruit
He’s got that pistol from the closet but he doesn’t know where to shoot
At the wife, at the man, at the temple

That entire world seems to wind around his head
Of the promises entrusted in a ring and the words they’d both said
Who’d known a weekend in Bermuda could have found a better path lead
Then a broken home with a shattered man and some cracking old lies

So simply falling down at the legs of his trophy wife
He looks at his palace and at his misconstrued life
So caught up in the drama he doesn’t see the knife
That the pool man keeps in his pocket for just such a situation

And staggering around the home he knocks the pool table in two
The balls topple to the floor as he crunches right through
And blood stains the green material just purchased and new
At an auction house on the account of it, the table will be dusting

Due to that sad old fact that she was ever lusting

So we drive along and I leave my car behind a memory
Looking into the night I previously couldn’t see
Watching a couple of guys in a one-door van hit a tree
Thinking no one needs to be in that kind of rush

And I see one get out and he waves us to stop
As he’s clogged on the head by a nightstick from a cop
I could make him out to his last stagger and drop
I know police brutality when I see it

I fumble through the things evading my mistress’s eyes
Find a newspaper and begin to read into current lies
“Wife and Cleaner arrested, wealthy playboy dies”
Sad story, must have been a hoax

Just then I stare at her and she’s looking back at me
I wonder if it’s into my eyes cause pass her shades I can’t see
But I best remain a ghost to her, because I’d rather be free
I know even if she doesn’t, love has a way of rusting

And in my brief time here I’ve learned,
That sad old fact that she was ever lusting




Copyright © franciswolf ... [ 2006-07-08 00:01:57]
(Date/Time posted on site)





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Re: Ever Lusting (User Rating: 1 )
by emystar on Saturday, 8th July 2006 @ 12:17:02 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
Very interesting write.
great work.
huggs,
emy


Re: Ever Lusting (User Rating: 1 )
by Keilantra on Saturday, 8th July 2006 @ 10:05:18 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
i usually dont like long story poem, but the trust is that this was very interesting and i enjoyed reading it. Good write, and well done.

xXx

~kei


Re: Ever Lusting (User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on Thursday, 13th July 2006 @ 12:25:01 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
Embrace This word: PROSE.

Thats what this is. It is also a gift. Develop it. I think I may hyave found your area of expertise, so to speak. Your calling.
Instead of putting this onto stanzas, all you have to do is express like you would expres dialogue. Here goes.

I'd broken down on the side of the road with an engine running sour and a mighty heavy load. I watched the sun above wither and corrode, and the trees too seemed to fall after the fashion. My thumb had been held up for so long it ached and I couldn't remember the purpose of the action, so seemingly impossible was the chance of any doors opening.

etc, etc.
Prose. You've got a talent for prose. That's the format you need-an extended one. If you find it difficult cramming all your ideas into stanzas, or expressing them properly with a limited amount of words, but you still write poetically as opposed to plain dialogue, then chances are your good at prose.

You have a gift for prose. Develop it. It is your forte`.

you're welcome,
black.





Re: Ever Lusting (User Rating: 1 )
by franciswolf on Thursday, 13th July 2006 @ 12:35:16 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
I kind of see where you are coming from now. I get it. I'll work on that ability.

Thank you once again,




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