.... put Up
With as much of Your
As She can take!
You've treated Me
like your Doormat
Drinking me Dry.
Floundered the Natural
Resources I Lovingly
Ate from my Knowledge trees
My Money trees.
Caddy exhaust driving
Rocket Fuel Child
Mother will Spew
Like a Volcano
John McGurk, Entrepreneur
The dancer kicked her leg high and swished her pink dress, cut low how McGurk liked it. He watched her and not the screaming woman who kicked her legs even higher, albeit with the benefit of a man carrying her aloft toward the door and the waiting Bowery cop.
“Where do they get it?” the barman asked him beneath the piano music. He poured three more fingers of whiskey for a swaying, unshaven man.
McGurk stroked his moustache and eyed the dancers, choosing. “Get what?”
“The carbolic acid.”
McGurk’s flat gaze remained on the edges of the dress, which had slipped a little, it seemed to him. “Don’t your missus clean house, Willie?”
“Not if she can help it.” A customer put three bits on the bar, so Willie extended the tube to him. The man took a deep breath, then began gulping as the crowd began hooting around him. “It could be a problem, Mr. McGurk,” Willie said.
The dancer on the left had stopped smiling, McGurk noted. He didn’t pay her to frown. She’d get a little pick-her-up before her time upstairs. “How’s that?”
“These women. That’s the third one tried to kill herself, now. In two weeks. The cops might ask questions about upstairs.”
“They all know upstairs. There ain’t a one of ’em but he dips his wick at McGurk’s after a patrol.”
The drinker coughed beer onto the floor. The surrounding patrons jeered, and McGurk smelled the camphor he cut the beer with. A drunkard reached for a dancer’s leg, then yelped as she brought down her heel on his hand.
“The customers, then,” Willy said. “Bit hard to have your fun while some woman’s burning her throat out next to you. And everybody’s heard about it.”
McGurk turned to his barkeep. “That’s right,” he said. “Everybody’s heard about it.”
John McGurk was a diligent man. He worked through the wee hours. Before the Bowery rose from its stupor sometime the next afternoon, he had affixed his new sign to the crumbling brick. New York City had 7,000 saloons, but everyone would hear about McGurk’s Suicide Hall.
"WARNING once you know me, you can't unknow me."
My friend told me that was the warning label that I should have.
They will treat you like royalty and then like trash. It's NOT you - it's them. They're a NARCISSIST!
Warning: This is a place where writers write. Prose stood for extreme first amendment practices before Elon Musk. Nothing is off limits. We explore all aspects of our inner thoughts about the worlds within and without us. This is about expression of ideas not agreement, with content. Beautiful writing can express ideas you despise. Ides you support can be written like cray. It is okay to "like" the first and not the second, because this is a place where writers write and not Twitter.
A simple ball thrower
A long plastic stick
used to throw a ball further.
A simple toy, used by many.
this simple toy hides a long term danger.
It may bring a waggle of your dogs tail,
hours of fun as your dog
runs, runs, runs.
Galloping at full speed to claim its prize,
a wet yellow ball.
Every time you throw that ball you're
committing your dog to a lifetime of pain.
Every time your dog stops suddenly to catch the ball you're
committing your dog to a lifetime of pain.
Years throwing a ball,
back and forth, back and forth.
Each throw damages your dogs
Over time it gets worse and worse, going unnoticed.
Your loyal dog keeps
running and running and running.
one day when he/she is old they will develop a limp,
thousands of pounds later spent on x-rays and specialists
will reveal the truth behind a
simple ball thrower.
Existence is not so simple,
as at first it does appear.
There are dangers.
There are strangers.
and empty chairs.
Watch your tread.
and be prepared.
but do not load,
Do not fall prey,
Give all to love,
and it will be,
before you fall in love again
or rekindle the fire we used to have
heed this warning
i can't be who you want me to be
i won't say what you want me to say
i need to be me if we're going to start this again
i won't always feel like enough
but i'll always try to be
because i love you so much that i'm willing to lose myself for a second time
to make you happy
and sometimes when i look in the mirror
i hate what i see, and wonder how you could ever love that
so i'm sorry if that shows too much
but i just want to know who i am
what i am, even if it means upsetting you
and going around in circles with you again and again
Take a pause. Actions
count. Like reactions,
that are given thought,
your future is bought
using the wisdom
not of this kingdom.
Dismiss the missive,
to not be listened.
Your eternal screams
will say, "Not redeemed!"