~*~ Gutter Words ~*~

In my well worn life, I can feel the knife
From your empty dreams to mine…
I can feel the hate in a quick sand state
To your city drenched in wine...
I can see your death under skies of blue
Praying to a god that’ll never hear you
I know when I hear your voice again, I’ll cry….
And in the books I’ve read we’ve bitched & bled
Under dimming lights & in wishing wells
I’ve been in the rain time & time again
Among the fallen dreams in my private hell
There’s no chemistry
And your winding advances are stale in a bouquet of chances
I know when I hear your voice again, I’ll die….
So in my well worn life I can feel the knife from your empty dreams to mine
Dead cities decay under summer snow
Who were you then behind the martyr glow
But can you ever life up to your myth
Praying to a god that doesn’t exist
I know when I hear your voice again, I’ll cry…
Broken gutter words
Beaten with the stones you once had thrown
Broken gutter words
Like a faded parade without a place to hang yourself
For noone else… –C. ’94

~*~ Dirge ~*~

It’s the long tall story
about your shortened life
No happy endings
No sympathetic sighs...
Harmless little soldier boy with fishnets & violins
Sucking on a cigarette
Counting on your could-have-beens…..
You had one eye in the mirror
The other went blind
Your perfect frame
Is all cracked up inside
This orphaned baby dressed in black is the savior for the times (?)
God’s likeness for all to hail
But he’s in no prayers of mine
And you thought you had me wrapped around your finger
But my fingers were wrapped around your throat… -C ’94

~*~ Carmeline ~*~

“Carmeline”, said the open window, “what do you desire?”
Carmeline said, “nothing can keep me willingly in line”…
“Carmeline, where have you been, where have you left yourself?”
Carmeline said, “nowhere dear, I’ve only been through hell”….
And the waters cry like the fountains crash
and the walls are closing in
All the winter sun and summer snow and things that might have been…
And the silence weeps for the tragic sons who’ve fallen like the daughters
Carmeline now you are one with the frozen waters……
“Carmeline”, said the autumn breeze, “why are you so blue?”
Carmeline said, “I’ve been dead since the moon was new”
“Carmeline, where have you been; why have you left this town?”
Carmeline said, “nowhere dear, I only wish to drown”….
And the cradle no longer sways or sings
And the candles have melted away
All the winter sun and summer snow were debts she couldn’t pay
And darkness hides the fallen heroes where the sun will never shine
Dear river’s edge, please take good care of sleeping Carmeline…. –C. ’94

~*~ The Demonic Superwoman ~*~

So what if you think I’m crazy, a little odd, strange, anti this & that. You don’t understand. So what if you think I’m a trouble maker, a smart-ass, a big-mouth, princess confrontation.. I’m not about bullshit, man.. but you don’t understand… You can call me what you want…. Call me the Demonic Superwoman.. cuz baby, that’s what I am…. I’m not Mother Theresa, I’m not Satan’s Spawn; I’m me, the demonic superwoman. It would be fucking nice if I could go out, walk around and noone would care what I looked like or who I am; that’s the way it should be. If you’re worth talking to, maybe I will. Instead I get stared at by the normals with their pseudo bad-kid hair dye, baggy pants, half a brain cell, STD carriers who think I’m a “freak”…. then there are those that get in my face and ask me, “why do you read books about graveyards, junkies, the end of the world, Bukowski, Burroughs, Baudelaire… they were weird.. they never said anything but how horrible their lives were and the people they despised, right?”… So? This isn’t fucking Melrose Place or 90210…. At least they had lives to observe & comment on. Boston’s the capitol of College Kid Hell; plenty of unbridled gawking; thinking I am some kind of mutated goth/punk chick. I’m not a genre’, fuckhead, I’m the demonic superwoman. No, no ,no not Mary Poppins with a bad disposition, the demonic superwoman. Get it right and you’ll win an all expenses paid vacation into my world. Just because I like to be alone, or I don’t leap into your vapid conversations, or that I'm a tad anti-social doesn’t mean I sit in my bedroom with blankets over my head trembling at the slightest thought of human contact. Why do you people think that??! You don’t understand.. and y’know I don’t want you to understand. I don’t need placatation from you. I have plenty of distaste for a lot of things. Maybe you’re one of them. I rarely mince words and have a divine talent to weed out the unnecessaries. Maybe I’ll do as I please & you can mind your own business because I’m the demonic superwoman.. wearing black because I like it… so stop asking me who died…… I wanna stand for hours in the pouring rain, catch pneumonia, die, come back & haunt YOU! I can’t agree on everything you say & do; you can’t agree on everything I say & do. That’s just life, deal with it, then get over it. This may cause an aneurysm but I’m only being me, I don’t want to be you. Girl + Brain=Trouble…. I’m not your mom, your sister, your maid, your bitch, your air-headed excuse for a good time on a Saturday Night, submissive you-know-what in the back seat of your hot rod; I am the caress as soft as sand paper…..I’m the Demonic Superwoman.. and y’know, I’m probably the most decent fucking person you’ll ever meet…. –C. ’94

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