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~ Scarlet Woman ~
Scarlet, oh Scarlet, you night dancer you.
Those spider lashes, and lips of red...
Oh Scarlet, you heart snatcher, you.
Prancing down the street, clicking your heels.
Turning heads and catching eyes.
Those thunder thighs and bullet eyes --
You're the reason his wife cries.
She comes and goes like a wild wind
Taking you to heights you've never been,
Then crashing you down with a spin.
She's got years of experience no man has ever seen --
She's the tall-tale the old wives spin.
Go on Scarlet, break him down!
Get him on his knees, make him crawl like a dog.
Do your thing, knock 'em dead!
When you're done -- girl, you better run like hell!
The lady with the ring is coming back
A barrel in her hand, she's dragging her man.
Go on Scarlet, do your thing,
Have you fun, make their heads spin.
It's all in good fun, you're carrying the torch
Of women who've bruised hearts since the dawn of time.
~~ Where ever she goes, she leaves her mark;
lips of red, trail
Bullet in a Bible
Friday, Nov 24, 2006 (6amish)
Bullet in a Bible
The gift you gave me saved my life, but darling,
when I came home, you were nothing but stone.
All I have remained of our love, are the memories and sorrow.
Oh darling, now that you're gone, my heart is as hollow as the Bible I hold.
Bombshells beating my mind, screams and smoke all around.
All that I can think of is your smile, and your tears, begging me not to go.
And if the gift you gave me does save my life, I'll come home to you -- with a box.
But, if a bullet does pierce my heart, I'll come home to you -- in a box.
Oh, how young and beautiful you were, but your body so weak and so frail.
My sweet, I feared holding you in my arms -- what if you were to shatter?
The sharp breaths you once took, sounded just like these shots.
The heavy beat of your heart, sounded just like these bombs.
Did the last breaths you take, sound like the boy who died in my arms?
He was young, and beautiful too, newly torn from
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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