deepundergroundpoetry.com
Noir
He's heard of my crimes
Now he's chasing me down the dark alleys
Of my old soul heart
The smokes of painted whores fill the air
These whores try to kiss him.
I run on the wet ground with my heels in hand
Barefoot
In a black dress that covers me up
But let him see everything
Lace is my sin.
Well, one of them
We meet in the fog
In dark alleys
In places
Where the jazz plays
And lampposts are for the lonely
He reaches me and holds my wrist
We're both cold under the moonlight
He said he won't let go
I don't try to get away
I've sinned enough
Better go all the way, mister
He took me to his place
I stare at him
"What do you really want?"
We both know enough
He just knew too much
I perfected Bacall's smirk, said he
Gene Tierney's cold stare
And the lilt
Of the voice of Peggy Lee
"Why don't you do right...
Like some other men do?"
He says I kiss better than his whores.
See, he has that skill with words
A talent, some would say, perhaps
That makes you feel that you are his only
Funny
He's only with you because he's lonely, dear
You are one of many
Nobody's muse.
He looks at me as if he's waiting
For the angel to show
Why, I disappoint him, of course
I am a woman of crimes
My lips never sipped his whiskey
Yet I am drunk of delusions
I never did smoke
But my lungs want to give up
And I
Murdered myself long ago
He has my confession
Maybe now he'll lock me up
Or take me, tied up
On his black satin bed before he does
Or let me have his gun
Shoot him down
But, love, everything we breathe is poetry!
So we gave in to our deepest wants
He loves my heat tonight
Brutal words
Honest
Bloody
Loving
Poetry
He won't know me tomorrow.
We'll be back to where we were
Him leaning on a streetlamp
Cigarette on his lips that last night were mine
He's already far away
I long for him already
I don't want to look away.
And I find
I was lonelier than he.
His figure's getting blurry
I try to stay awake
But my eyes hate me
Hate and love what they saw
It is agony
The pills
They are pulling me away from him
From the beautiful night
Of blacks and whites
They shut my lids.
Goodnight, goodnight, lover
I lose you to the smoke once more.[/i]
Now he's chasing me down the dark alleys
Of my old soul heart
The smokes of painted whores fill the air
These whores try to kiss him.
I run on the wet ground with my heels in hand
Barefoot
In a black dress that covers me up
But let him see everything
Lace is my sin.
Well, one of them
We meet in the fog
In dark alleys
In places
Where the jazz plays
And lampposts are for the lonely
He reaches me and holds my wrist
We're both cold under the moonlight
He said he won't let go
I don't try to get away
I've sinned enough
Better go all the way, mister
He took me to his place
I stare at him
"What do you really want?"
We both know enough
He just knew too much
I perfected Bacall's smirk, said he
Gene Tierney's cold stare
And the lilt
Of the voice of Peggy Lee
"Why don't you do right...
Like some other men do?"
He says I kiss better than his whores.
See, he has that skill with words
A talent, some would say, perhaps
That makes you feel that you are his only
Funny
He's only with you because he's lonely, dear
You are one of many
Nobody's muse.
He looks at me as if he's waiting
For the angel to show
Why, I disappoint him, of course
I am a woman of crimes
My lips never sipped his whiskey
Yet I am drunk of delusions
I never did smoke
But my lungs want to give up
And I
Murdered myself long ago
He has my confession
Maybe now he'll lock me up
Or take me, tied up
On his black satin bed before he does
Or let me have his gun
Shoot him down
But, love, everything we breathe is poetry!
So we gave in to our deepest wants
He loves my heat tonight
Brutal words
Honest
Bloody
Loving
Poetry
He won't know me tomorrow.
We'll be back to where we were
Him leaning on a streetlamp
Cigarette on his lips that last night were mine
He's already far away
I long for him already
I don't want to look away.
And I find
I was lonelier than he.
His figure's getting blurry
I try to stay awake
But my eyes hate me
Hate and love what they saw
It is agony
The pills
They are pulling me away from him
From the beautiful night
Of blacks and whites
They shut my lids.
Goodnight, goodnight, lover
I lose you to the smoke once more.[/i]
Published 6th May 2015
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7th May 2015 4:16am
Gene Tierney, always beautiful. the femme who is most fatal to herself.
great noir dialogue in this, from a woman's perspective...
great noir dialogue in this, from a woman's perspective...
Yes, fatal to herself. But if she is really like Laura, making men fall in love without even trying, then she is fatal to the gentlemen as well.
Thank you for reading, sir, as always.
Thank you for reading, sir, as always.
16th Jan 2017 3:01pm
perfect title for this
it evokes the culture, the atmosphere
all the reasons why we want to be those people
& why we never were...
it evokes the culture, the atmosphere
all the reasons why we want to be those people
& why we never were...
