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Conjolted Poetry

Conjolted Poetry

Friday, 21 February 2014

Papier mache ghost

Je m'appelle papier mache;
la mannequin.

People use me, they say
I'm easy to manipulate
I'm only "papier mache,"

They make a fool out of me,
dress me with a cloak over head
with big round eyes like a ghost.
yet still, I go out haunting-
seeking deadbeat victims
hoping to find romance.

This story starts @ Mr Benssons' jewels.

Bennson, "the dealer,"
opened chit chat with her.
She always intrigued me;
la mode, patient and very artistic.

He was playing wing-man-
ayeh she focused on him like a rubix,
so she failed to feel my touch.

I had been haunting her for days,
funny thing is she had imaginary friends,
crazy or crazy?

As she ambled out the shop,
I docked back into my spot,
stood, froze, waved, and smiled,
the "papier mache smile;"
that thanks you and brings you back.

I grew tired of waiting,
so the next time she came back,
I turned on my charm and pursued.
It turned out the smile had done wonders,
it snapped her like a gator bag!
So my efforts didn't go out in vain.

She invited me to her place and we stayed up late,
I had hoped to give her the holy ghost,
she slept in the couch, gave me the bed,
the nerve of this babe!

I was feisty so I attempted to sleep thirsty.
It was dreadful, I eventually pulled through,
As I dreamt, a "visitor" came by,
she gigidy, gigidy atop my woody,
and served me like a table;
they call them "majini."

I wondered how she got through my jeans.
rubbed my lamp and I came like a genie?
I struggled to wake from sleep,
yet could look round the room.
I could barely move or get up.
It was probably seated on my chest;
sleep paralysis they say.

When I eventually woke up
everything around me
turned out haunting.
The strange ambience of her room,
the photos were un-deen to me,
the pink, gosh, the pink,
and it was just 4.30 am.

I stayed awake till the sun stood out like a TM.
when I left, I decided not to go back to Tz...

Back from my dreadful holiday,
I wasted no time, I went back to Bensons',
got dressed to impress my next prey...

I waited on a new maiden to drop by
so that together we could hallo-wean,
trick or treat, and get fond of each other.

When she walked in,
I stood with one hand in pocket,
the other stretched out for a hand shake,
and on my face;
the "papier mache smile."
She couldn't resist it,
she wanted all of me,
shook my hand and took photos with me.
said I was a strange man,
I only lacked a queen.
So she bought the clothes off of me,
then I gave her the holly ghost.
She scrum "merry, merry;"
ayeh, Jesus never saved her,
she had fallen for a ghost,
one unlike most filled with emotion.

Love bloomed,
we walked through walls together,
It was sweet serenade,
we danced to it til the music got cut!

I lost my ghost-ism,
failed to walk through walls-
Mr unstoppable had turned stoppable,
the Haunter had been haunted,
I was disgruntled; I lost it!

I started begging her-
to stay a tad longer.
I had surely become poor;
hollow heart, peevish eyes.
I turned into a chokora,

I got onto my feet,
dusted my self off,
dried trickling tears-
from my hollow sockets,
and plastered back-
the "papier mache smile,"

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