Post by croquetanyone on Apr 25, 2004 1:23:20 GMT -5
Ok, I usually never do this. I'm actually very shy about sharing what I write, but for some reason I want to. I didn't really pay much attention to punctuation, so I'm sorry. I don't know if anyone will think this poem even makes any sense, and it's a bit morbid and long, but here it is anyway...
The Purple Flowered Bath Tub
Against my ear I can still feel his breath
He made love to me then stabbed me to death
So morbidly romantic it seems to me
The woman he loves I'll never be
In the purple flowered bath tub she washes her face and closes her eyes
She takes another drink, rests her head back and cries
The whole time we were here, we were there
I'm so sorry I don't want you; I'm so sorry I don't care
He's going to leave; I've said this before
All the poets and actors, they are going to war
Good-bye to you; I've only known you a short while
Don't write me anymore words; that is not my style
When I say to you that I don't care, it's not that I don't
I'm not going to live here forever; I can't and I won't
So don't cry for me because I won't cry for you
I'm much to selfish, but this you knew
And you will die; this I've always known
But I will die a worse death; I'll die all alone
My love has the handwriting of a mad scientist and beautiful hands
We're trying to rebuild a structure made out of a language nobody understands
You can send me out alone, and I'll come back unscathed
He made love to me, stabbed me, while in the next room she bathed
And as she shampooed her hair, I was dying on the floor
He called me his angel; he called me his monkey
My blood soaked the carpet, but the carpet was already red
He brushed back my hair, kissed my mouth and said...
"You are the poet; the only one who understood,
"And to love another, I never could,
"You no longer exsist, and your words belong to me,
"From insecurity and stomach pains, you'll forever be free."
She rinsed out her hair and wrapped it in a towel
While in the next room she heard her husband howl
And as this went on, the poets and actors died on the field
They buried the first with his sword and his shield
The minute she died, the pens, guitars, and scripts were all thrown away
The poets and the actors died the same day
No one came to her funeral, for her friends were all dead
His wife locked her husband in the basement and said...
"To love another, you never could; I know this is true,
"You honestly thought that I never knew,
"There is no one to hate and no one to blame,
"I found her in the corner crying your name,
"Together we were dead right from the start,
"You stabbed her to death then cut out her heart,
"How could you be so crazy; she was way beyond saving,
"From her stomach pains and baby craving,
"I could never hate you for being so real,
"You'll always suffer, and you'll never heal."
So she ate and threw up their wedding vows on the bathroom floor
His writer, his poet, his angel, his monkey
He dressed her, kissed her, threw her body in the lake
Choked his wife with her veil and ate poisoned wedding cake
He is now all alone, but finally he is free
As more wives share wedding albums under the maiden name tree
Rip off their veils, bury them in their wedding gowns
In the purple flowered bath tub, she drinks and she drowns...
Please don't be too mean. I'm not out to win the Pulitzer Prize.
The Purple Flowered Bath Tub
Against my ear I can still feel his breath
He made love to me then stabbed me to death
So morbidly romantic it seems to me
The woman he loves I'll never be
In the purple flowered bath tub she washes her face and closes her eyes
She takes another drink, rests her head back and cries
The whole time we were here, we were there
I'm so sorry I don't want you; I'm so sorry I don't care
He's going to leave; I've said this before
All the poets and actors, they are going to war
Good-bye to you; I've only known you a short while
Don't write me anymore words; that is not my style
When I say to you that I don't care, it's not that I don't
I'm not going to live here forever; I can't and I won't
So don't cry for me because I won't cry for you
I'm much to selfish, but this you knew
And you will die; this I've always known
But I will die a worse death; I'll die all alone
My love has the handwriting of a mad scientist and beautiful hands
We're trying to rebuild a structure made out of a language nobody understands
You can send me out alone, and I'll come back unscathed
He made love to me, stabbed me, while in the next room she bathed
And as she shampooed her hair, I was dying on the floor
He called me his angel; he called me his monkey
My blood soaked the carpet, but the carpet was already red
He brushed back my hair, kissed my mouth and said...
"You are the poet; the only one who understood,
"And to love another, I never could,
"You no longer exsist, and your words belong to me,
"From insecurity and stomach pains, you'll forever be free."
She rinsed out her hair and wrapped it in a towel
While in the next room she heard her husband howl
And as this went on, the poets and actors died on the field
They buried the first with his sword and his shield
The minute she died, the pens, guitars, and scripts were all thrown away
The poets and the actors died the same day
No one came to her funeral, for her friends were all dead
His wife locked her husband in the basement and said...
"To love another, you never could; I know this is true,
"You honestly thought that I never knew,
"There is no one to hate and no one to blame,
"I found her in the corner crying your name,
"Together we were dead right from the start,
"You stabbed her to death then cut out her heart,
"How could you be so crazy; she was way beyond saving,
"From her stomach pains and baby craving,
"I could never hate you for being so real,
"You'll always suffer, and you'll never heal."
So she ate and threw up their wedding vows on the bathroom floor
His writer, his poet, his angel, his monkey
He dressed her, kissed her, threw her body in the lake
Choked his wife with her veil and ate poisoned wedding cake
He is now all alone, but finally he is free
As more wives share wedding albums under the maiden name tree
Rip off their veils, bury them in their wedding gowns
In the purple flowered bath tub, she drinks and she drowns...
Please don't be too mean. I'm not out to win the Pulitzer Prize.