I believe our friend the lastromantichero knows the syndrome...
Recently a lady shockingly confessed
her major difficulty in this life to be
dependence on the syringe and its use.
I had to comfort her and say,
"My dear, there are much worse addictions.
You don't know what you have missed."
Oh yes, we shouldn't really talk about it.
All those loves I had
that failed and faltered on the way,
the girl who cheated me with previous lovers
and who cheated them by suddenly absconding
with a brand new lover off to Paris;
that devourer of men, who used them up,
consuming one after another,
leaving them like wrecks behind
with bleeding souls for their remaining life;
that vamp who had been married thrice
with only ten engagements previously,
and who, when I had had enough of all her tricks,
swore she would never have another after me
to next week trap a new one twenty years her junior,
or that lady whom I never can forget,
what was her name again,
well, let's forget about it,
or that siren, who for just her sport -
enough! There is an end to it,
the story that did never end,
of how at every time I made a solemn oath
of nevermore trust any lady,
that decision and severest promise of sincerity
was never followed but by just another fall
for yet another chapter of the neverending story...
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 465 times
Written on 2007-02-17 at 00:00
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Enough is never enough
Recently a lady shockingly confessed
her major difficulty in this life to be
dependence on the syringe and its use.
I had to comfort her and say,
"My dear, there are much worse addictions.
You don't know what you have missed."
Oh yes, we shouldn't really talk about it.
All those loves I had
that failed and faltered on the way,
the girl who cheated me with previous lovers
and who cheated them by suddenly absconding
with a brand new lover off to Paris;
that devourer of men, who used them up,
consuming one after another,
leaving them like wrecks behind
with bleeding souls for their remaining life;
that vamp who had been married thrice
with only ten engagements previously,
and who, when I had had enough of all her tricks,
swore she would never have another after me
to next week trap a new one twenty years her junior,
or that lady whom I never can forget,
what was her name again,
well, let's forget about it,
or that siren, who for just her sport -
enough! There is an end to it,
the story that did never end,
of how at every time I made a solemn oath
of nevermore trust any lady,
that decision and severest promise of sincerity
was never followed but by just another fall
for yet another chapter of the neverending story...
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 465 times
Written on 2007-02-17 at 00:00
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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