Lounge Singer

Lounge Singer

i wanna be a coffee coloured brown speakeasy angel
waitin for her godfather-goodfella man
batting baked broken lashes
in the two-toned two-bright lights
that are centered on a lapsing lazy susan.
but i’m as white as my torn-top cuticles
white like someone’s idea at frozen marzipan
which has no taste, not like shimmering swirls of tinctured tea.

i want a deniro-pacino man gun casin italian talkin mafioso
a hit and run man, with tattoos he only shows to me
and a grandma’s old cadillac: big trunk for big bodies.
but all i’ve got is a nowhere tom who makes love to the shadows
with metal punctures on his skin and a torn bus pass

sings to me the sounds of the smoke
between the ghost lips and teeth tremors

(wishful thinking)

wordy, but nonetheless beautiful. it's annoying how i have to sit here and piece it apart, but it was worth. my favorite lines:

i wanna be a coffee coloured brown speakeasy angel

capturing.

sings to me the sounds of the smoke
between the ghost lips and teeth tremors

teeth tremors? wow...i love you.

(wishful thinking)

perfect ending for this poem

now, i'm unsure of what it's called when you use many words starting with the same letter, but you applied a tactic like this many times in your poem, whihc made it feel all the more like a work of art. collage-like, perfect.

Wow.... this was awesome. I like how it reminds me of lounge singers. You've captured the feeling very well, I think.

Ooh, CL I loved this.

I liked the lack of punctuation and capitalization because all the words flowed into one another so beautifully, and your line breaks seemed so natural I don't think I questioned a single one. Very smooth, very smoky, very... lounge singer. Fantastic.

Awww thank you all...

I really enjoyed writing this one. And Xan, alliteration is the word I think you are thinking of.

Ciao, CL.