"Purge" Day 2

These ones are weird, but that's just the way she goes some times. Sometimes I find the weird ones are the most creative and fun to do. The Coleridge poem I created with Amanda, my partner in course on the romantics where we decided that Coleridge didn't quite understand there is a fine line between love and stalking. I didn't think it was initially poetry but as it is now. why the hell not?

Passing Notes: Coleridge to Sarah

Sarah,
You are lovely,
Do you love me?
                        -Coleridge
Samuel,
Sorry, but no. Please,
Stop writing about me
                        -Sarah
Sarah,
I can't.
You are my muse.
Your every movement
Is the twitch of my pen.
I love You.
                         -Coleridge
Samuel,
Do not doubt that I will
call the police.
If I see you through my window
once more, I shall
strike you with a willow branch
                        -Sarah
Sarah,
Oh Sarah, That would
Be splendid,
for so long my heart
has been frozen in sleep,
Awaken me with your willow branch
                        -Coleridge

Love is a Crossword Puzzle

I hate the way you bitch about my hair,
Literally can't stand how loud you snore
Only you would think it is funny to see you in pain,
Verifying your status as succubus.

Everyday I wake up fantasising that you don't.
Yet, you keep on ticking like Satan's clock
On all that matters, I will never understand how
Unbearable you are, but I still love you.

"Little Boy you're goin' ta Hell"

This just in:
I'm goin' to hell.
I danced too badly,
I drank enough
I have been an avid practitioner
in premarital sex.
I stayed up past 2
to watch nothing but shapes
and bad dialogue.
My only steady relationship is
with Internet porn.
I lied to my boss
and said that my auntie died,
but don't judge me
to lightly, cause she did, later.
I've motherfuck'd
a fair amount of authority figures,
physically and verbally,
I've passed the offering trey
The majority of my life,
And I've said I love you
when I didn't mean it.

So I guess I'm headed down,
taking that fiery fall past
the bottom of the bottomless pit.
I'm cool with it though.
Have been since I found out.
I figure,
hell is packed with
good people and assholes,
the outliers of society
that where too cool to live into old age
they passed on using
the ole' free will card.
Choosing to defect from the restrictions,
with drugs in their veins,
flying through wind shields
without restraint.
I see them in slow motion,
moving loosely between
a swirl of crimson and clear.
they took side-winding roads
off the sides of mountains,
ending up consumed
in one of Mario's red mushrooms.
I can see them down there;
Hemingway is down there
blasting demons with a mossberg pump,
unlimited shells, cigar, and a smirk.
Hendrix is probably in hell
shaking the whammy bar
on his sinner's bone guitar,
a sold out crowd listening to
the greatest there's ever been.
You know Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin
are standing next to the inferno,
Maitai in one hand,
tightest little hell cat in the other
not a drop of sweat on them,
cool than the other side of the pillow
could imagine.
Yeah,
I'm cool with that.
And for Satan,
I figure he never was good
at listening to god,
bet he's loosened up a bit.