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Delta40
07-13-2011, 05:47 PM
I cannot abide her parsimoniousness
For the record, few people, including you
can say that word when they are drunk!
Even with a pillow smothering her ugliness
she still manages to drink everyone under the table,
slurring there is no God before wailing,
Look what that bastard took from me!
After she cashes her tears in for all you can drink vodkas,
she hiccups home, cursing everyone that gave their condolences.
On the next day, the unsightly widow powders her disfigured smile before
dangling the shrivelled balls of her dead husband from the rear view mirror like fluffy dice,
slapping them at each set of traffic lights,
hooting Oomfa! when they swing over the mirror.

Jerrybaldy
07-13-2011, 06:07 PM
Your poetry has changed since your recent trauma, it has become lengthier of line more obscure and more desolate. None of these three are a criticism just a foot note on Deltaism.

MystyrMystyry
07-13-2011, 06:08 PM
Delta! Delta! Delta!

Delta40
07-13-2011, 06:12 PM
Thanks Jerry and Mr. Yes it has changed and I'm enjoying the journey.

everyadventure
07-13-2011, 06:32 PM
Yes, definitely more "desolate" as Jerry puts it. But more powerful as well. No fluff here.

(I bet Sock Puppet is very good at keeping you company when you're down, no? Such a friendly little face!)

PrinceMyshkin
07-13-2011, 07:57 PM
There is surely something ambiguous about those balls swinging over the mirror? I'm staggered by all the room you seem to have to careen around in your imagination.

Delta40
07-14-2011, 06:58 AM
I can't explain this. It just happened but I really value the feedback from all of my lit-net friends.

Thank you x