A Dark Curse She Still Comes To Torture Me

(1.) A Dark Curse She Still Comes To Torture Me O' my darling, why do you look like so ghostlike Your creamy skin looks like burnt-over ash Hole in chest, were you stabbed with a spike But as usual your face still quite so fine. Those long sexy legs as flamed burnt ash And once beautiful eyes are hateful beams Ah yes, your smile that won you loads of cash Can no longer conceal your wicked schemes. My dear, yes I still have that stomped heart One you skinned with rusty fish skinners Wickedness places high on evil's heart As you feast on your blood-soaked dinners. You are ugly, your dark spirit exposed I see your pale ghost gnashing its sharp teeth I regret forever, once you I chose Your grave, pray I you are thousand feet 'neath. Has been thirty years, do I your ghost see? Why does your apparition now pester me? I believe it, your curse is that damn strong. Pray now, your spirit goes where it belongs! Robert J. Lindley, Rhyme Jan. 20th 1973 (2.) She The Great, Amazing Author Of Her Insane Circus She that fed impalpably on the ineluctable In hellish hatred of the sad unfathomable Eating tarnished pies of the mysterious ineffable. Hellishly, hellishly, in battles hard fought Truth abandoned in her unreasonable refusal Her heart holding allegiance to psychic death. Mentality was never to be her mighty enforcer She rejected normal and courted the insanity She mirrored her thoughts to embrace her vanity. To her death would be, her brother sun perishing For many months she went away, totally vanishing She was the famed artist of her deep ineluctability. She vomited raw food and pissed on the rest Her loud laugh sounded as the hidden ghosts a'crying But her sainted queenhood she said, nobody was buying. Robert J. Lindley, Verse, 1971