The Notebook, Part II

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
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Poetry.

Submitted: April 02, 2017

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Content

Submitted: April 02, 2017

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Concealed for so long,
tucked away to rest --
a lie: your alibi;
prepare the witness
and a glass of red wine, my friend.
Without it? You: transgressed.
But no objections here.
Isn't it when you work best?

Reentering my
life, out of the blue;
"don't write about me," your
plea. Really? And do
the abused such a dishonor?
Always you, facts in lieu --
Stricken from the record,
though karma starts to accrue.

The rules don't apply,
sanctions or not; of.
The notebook -- it's all here,
the verdict hereof.
Sway the jury? Elementary.
Magic mushrooms and buds,
Cuervo, Smirnoff and change,
and the acid you so love.

Talk me round and round,
charm me with a smile.
Ever so cunning, imp,
camo: rank and file.
Borderline this, a bit of that,
toss the Effexor; rile
me -- you think you should try,
but not enough to beguile.

One final wee chat:
quick hello, or three;
I must bid you adieu,
terribly sorry.
Transpose those chords; talented you,
and just the perfect key.
A new note to go with
each shade of nail varnish, Ne.

Straightened halo, though
your words: crooked; bent.
Coffin's ready, lovely,
copious time spent
on you; Grimm's grim -- repugnant scum.
It was at that moment
there was nothing to hate.
You've lost, dear. And I'm content.

So the next time you
care to drop a line,
I shall advise you where
to shove it this time.
Smoke, eat; hallucinate, repeat.
We can't forget the wine;
abstain reality.
You mean nothing to me, swine.


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