Pathetic ©

                                                 Written by: Arose N Daghetto

Now I could tell you

where to get off!

Take them grab bag hugs

and second-hand lovin’

back to the streets

from which they came!

And I could tell you

where you can put your

Ah baby baby’s

and what’s my names…

Take them back to Roscoe’s,

let him deep fry you some dignity!

Tell him baby baby sent you.

I could even tell you

to take your ragtime charms

back to the pool hall…

Mama need a new pair of shoes

and daddy need to catch a clue!

Are you feeling lucky now?

I could also tell you

to take your gumbo thoughts

bankrupt soul and foreclosed heart

and slithering slick tobacco tongue,

stuff them in an envelope

and give it to your alibi,

the mailman.

And if that ain’t bad enough,

I can really go all out

and tell you you’re a no good,

low down, two timing

snake in the grass

who don’t know how to do nothing

but get high, get laid and get paid!

You ain’t nothing but a full-time punk

in a part-time man’s body

who was raised

by a bunch of cackling hens

who spoiled you rotten!

They let you keep your boyhood

by taking away your manhood!

You wouldn’t even bust your ass

for a lollipop!

I wish I could tell you all those things,

but I can’t.

Not to your face anyway…

I can’t tell you those things

because I love you.

Poem (not pictures) © Copyright 2011 by Arose N Daghetto for Quiet Storm Enterprise.

All Rights Reserved.