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steven cooke


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6 stycznia 2012

Genie in a Gin Bottle

Her lips
caress another cigarette
A fading
belle looking for love
The smoke
veils her face,
For she is,
Genie in a gin bottle
.
Her Make up
hiding the past
Silk
fingernails hiding the smokers hand
Her wig of
blonde hiding the soul beneath
The ladder
in her stockings,
Torn like
her Hollywood dreams
.
Her perfume
sickly sweet,
Masking the odors
from yesterday’s gin
.
The ashtray
is full,
Cheap
Lipstick covers the tab ends
Her vigil to
find happiness
But he never
comes.
.
Only a
stream of chancers wanting to spin lady luck one more time,
Fuelled by
the promise of paradise
A vacation
from life,
A brag for
jack Daniels
,
Under neon
lights
A beautiful
girl in a gin bottle,
An inner
voice plays in her mind
.
“I could
have been a movie star”
A role she
can play all too well
But morning
light never lies
.
Her beauty,
has fled, left on the pillow
Like some
Monet’s impression.
Regret lays
sprawled out
Like yesterday’s
salad, thrown out with the rubbish
For the
slugs of corruption to eat
.
Her aging
face revealing, every rejection,
Every turned
down script, every broken dream
A lifetime
of heart break
But she
still plays her part well,
.
Play it again Sam
And another
cigarette,
The same
mistake, the same men,
.
From All the
gin bars in the world,
She had to
choose this one
.
Another
lottery ticket to litter her despair
No winning
numbers here
Her silent
acceptance speech,
Laid bare in
her blood shot eyes of regret
.
A mouthwash
of gin,
And the
genie of love returns to her bottle
Her legs
bruised and varicose,
Testament to
waitress by day, and genie by night
.
He closes
the door, his only thought,
To get away,
not his finest hour
Jack
Daniels, his moral escape goat,
Nosey Neighbor’s,
his jury
They bare
witness to his walk of shame
.
She opens
the curtains, and sees him fade into the faceless crowd
Alone again,
a full ashtray, and an empty gin bottle,
Symbols of
last night’s play,
.
The mirror
torments her image
As She
drinks coffee through smoke stained teeth,
A wave of
her head, a smile, and a daydream
Tonight, her
prince will save her
.
This is her
delusion, her reason to live,
But Time is
running out,
.
For she is
part of life’s crap game.
The dice
rolls once more
Will it be
happiness? Or loneliness?
.
But in the
end, deep down she knows
The House
always wins, in tinsel town.






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