Gold vs. Green/Pointing a gun to an Angel’s head
SYNOPSIS: A piece about losing love, only to find love again on the rebound, only to fall madly in love once more, only to lose that love again and only then learn and appreciate the true meaning of pain and suffering. Dear reader, I will admit, this piece may not always make a complete amount of sense.
Warning: This piece contains some coarse language and strong sexual references.
‘Better put on some mittens
and lock up your l’il kittens
cuz tonight it’s gonna get freezin’ cold.
Find that someone you’ve been wantin’ to hold
and never dare let them go.
Your emotions, let ‘em show,
as you stare into each other’s eyes.
The immense power to paralyze
is a truly powerful thing.’
Such words are really amazing,
such words are not mine. A friend I once knew
confessed this to me to confess to you,
as to forever have you as my one and only,
for you are, as you always have been, a fantasy
that I cannot times infinity live without.
This love affair is what this poem is about.
There’s a monkey in my lap
I think my ex has the clap,
and if that bitch is suggestin’
that I gave her the infection
then I have to proudly announce that she is sourly wrong,
for my wonderful equipment has been so clean all along.
For here I am, smiling with a white silk shirt,
all the while happy, playing in the grey dirt
looking for a new woman to occupy my active mind,
cuz memories of an old romance I don’t wish to rewind.
It was then that I saw you, like an angel on the other side of the river.
‘Give me a chance young lady, just one chance, and I will forever be your lover.’
However, you send more misinterpreted signals than a fuckin’
traffic light in the middle of the city that is beyond broken;
one day you’re bright red, one day you’re lime green and the next day you are but gold.
Just tell me, what are we doing? Do you even know? Are you hot or cold?
Driving down the motorway, two seconds from overload;
I do not know where I am, and who cares for the zip code,
for I’m driving in a beast that drinks gasoline
like I do cold beer; yeah, she’s a well oiled machine,
with a bitchin’ engine and well gassed wheels,
she’s a rusted down piece of chrome and steel.
She’s got herself a red finish with white racing stripes
which run straight down the centre, with gas blasting out the pipes
on the arse end of her sleek body which is brilliant if I dare say
on this not so glorious afternoon of a sunny Saturday.
This car of mine, she was designed for wet n wild fun,
and I sure as shit ain’t stoppin’ her on this dog run,
so to hell with the darn cops, if they wanna catch me,
they better be doin’ more than friggin’ one eighty
on this freeway as I burn rubber like I burn carbohydrates
whilst driving in an old dog with some friends of mine who can relate.
Riding shotgun is Alex, as foxy as can be,
and in the back rides Ryan and his girlfriend Natalie.
The two have been getting’ at it, both been getting’ busy
as we drive right through this always over crowded city
for driving around in a bad ass corvette
is likely to get any femme fatale wet.
Like me, this car, she glitters, but she ain’t nearly all gold,
if you’re playing cards with me honey I suggest you fold,
for I know you have a full house, but I’ve a royal flush,
and if you’ve met me, then you’ve certainly had your brush
with destiny, and I tell yer now like I tell yer then, I don’t wanna spoil
your surprise, cuz I’m like a shotgun baby, you have gotta watcha recoil
else you’re gonna get hurt, so I suggest we play it safe, even if we play it rough,
cuz I’m sure you know like me that a little safety is never quite safety enough
when it comes to internal security. So let’s be sure we’re both protected
cuz you don’t want what I got baby, you don’t wanna ever be love infected.
At night our combined voices create quite the crescendo,
I guess that’s the penalty of frequent innuendo,
and if it is, then I haven’t a problem with this.
Such no doubt always begins with a passionate kiss
as it always did, and before you know it we’re lying in bed.
The deed has been done, and I sigh and say ‘nothing like a good head
job’, and you smile and nod and agree.
for Jesus may have died for the sins of all humanity, but he didn’t die for mine,
and I don’t know if he realised I would find sex to be quite so elegant or divine
as to want it every night and day with you, forever and ever
and never would I give up on us, no I wouldn’t, I would never.
For it’s when you say ‘I’ve an itch under my scared flap of skin,
please, can you touch it, can you stroke it, can you really do it in?’
that I find you so utterly insatiable;
my feelings for you – they are undeniable.
‘I want to be with you’ I say with a smile upon my face
that no nefarious occurrence could ever dare erase,
for I am shirtless, sleeveless but not sexless within this life I’m livin’ in.
I do not like losin’ any fight, and when I find you I’ll call that a win.
To do so however, I will need a gift; a keen sense of direction,
but you needn’t fear for never have I failed a self-appointed mission.
‘Have you a map?’ you ask, ‘what map!’ I respond, ‘the journey is in my mind,
and I swear to you that sometime soon you will be the treasure I will find.’
For I know that I like sleeping
and that you yourself like sleeping,
so when I have you, why don’t we sleep together?
Please, I beg of you, do not use the word ‘never’
in a sentence, when you indeed answer my question.
So please, before you speak, listen to my confession;
‘I love you sweet lady (these words I say are fact I swear) and I always will
until this world of ours is dead and gone and time is forcibly standing still.
Perhaps I’ve been wrong this whole time; perhaps more is less, perhaps less is more,
cuz I’ve been yelling to get some good service, I’ve been yelling for the law
to come arrest the bastard who can’t seem to fetch me a bloody drink,
all I wanted was some decent ice cold beer with some chardonnay pink,
but I guess such was just too darn difficult for that dumb son of a bitch.
Which witch is which?
Which watch is right?
Which of these should I dare to truly trust on this darkened candle lit night?
Normally this time of evening, the wine
would be making you one hundred per cent mine
tonight. But on this specific occasion,
there was no such amazing legislation,
cuz it sucks when the one you love really hates you,
when the one woman who was your muse rejects you,
and now all I want is a bottle to drown away my sorrows
just so that I can survive to see the rise of a tomorrow.
‘I am one loony baboony in a cocoony’ I replied,
to the woman I called ‘mine’ who loved me once, the day my heart died.
‘Now there is no one else for you to turn to’
you said, ‘you have lost yourself deep within you.’
‘I’ve been broken, belittled; my heart’s been officially ripped out’
I cried, ‘tell me, what is all this concerning, what is this about?’
You shrugged your small shoulders. ‘Pretty soon you will be dead.
If only you had listened to what your mamma said.
Don’t you remember what she thrice said to you?
Guess you never had one decent, single clue,
or was it that your mind was filled with lead?
Many angels sacrificed their lives for you, many angels have fought and died,
but what was the point, for you’re about to commit emotional suicide.
If you continue on with this expedition,
in the bible there’s only one definition;
pointing a handgun to an angel’s head.’
I still remember the past, that is my curse,
cuz tonight it’s the end of my universe
and I really, truly, nearly am feelin’ fine
as I down a crystallised bottle of white wine
over the course of this very late night
before I get caught up in all the light
of love and life and imminent death,
cuz normally I would lose my breath
when you suddenly enter the room.
You’d play the wife, and I’d play the groom,
we were shitty actors but come the night we were better than ‘great’,
for we were together as promised by the designers of fate,
but now this life has changed and it ain’t the way it used to be
and now you can no longer bring yourself to stand next to me.
You have a week to pack your things and leave, then you can go nuts,
shouldn’t be too hard really cuz let’s face it – you hate my guts.