Really? You're right to tell me, 'cause I would never have guessed! If it is based on Gein, they sure cleaned it up, so to speak. No necrophilia in that movie (that's obvious, at least). So, we come to the close of our weekly Triad of Terror. I have to say I'm dubious on Psycho! But who knows what lurks in the hearts of Hollywood producers?
Linda.
The Poetry Comp. is Fixed
-
linda_lakeside
- Posts: 3857
- Joined: Mon Sep 13, 2004 3:08 pm
- Location: By the sea, by the sea, by the beautiful sea..
-
Teratogen
- Posts: 1653
- Joined: Mon Jun 21, 2004 11:09 pm
- Location: Santa Clarita, California
- Contact:
well, it was probably the whole thing about the mother, as i said before. that was the same thing in TCM, with the nearly dead parents in the upstairs bedroom.
"Rock and roll is dead, but I am its revival. I'm prophesied by sages died, from Buddha to the Bible." --TERATOGEN
http://www.myspace.com/teratogen (music page)
http://www.myspace.com/teratogen666 (personal page)
http://www.facebook.com/#!/TheNoHoldsBard?ref=profile (Facebook page)
http://www.myspace.com/teratogen (music page)
http://www.myspace.com/teratogen666 (personal page)
http://www.facebook.com/#!/TheNoHoldsBard?ref=profile (Facebook page)
-
Morning Star
- Posts: 14
- Joined: Wed May 11, 2005 5:30 am
For Yehudit
I haven't smoked for one year
Yet my breathing is still laboured
I draw on life's toxins
I forget a word or two
And the wind it screams
Like it never did before
Louder than Metallica
I hear the prophets' call
And I have no rhythm left
I've fallen in a heap
The angels laugh at my predicament
Oh the imperfection
And Chopin's insistent piano sounds like drizzle
All lost in grey
As I change the CD to U2's latest
I think they still have hope
Yes life is but a Chaplin flick
It's all about the tramp
Lost in modern times
Battling the great dictator within and out there
And some aren't as literate as others
They can't spell every word
Or think quickly enough
But they still weep
And it is this crying
That brings us back to earth
I sometimes hear mum at night
I am powerless
And this is what we ward off
This pain
A gentle cry
The endearing pain
I have few bandages for your wounds
You must bleed alone
Yet I give to you this poem
In understanding
Yet my breathing is still laboured
I draw on life's toxins
I forget a word or two
And the wind it screams
Like it never did before
Louder than Metallica
I hear the prophets' call
And I have no rhythm left
I've fallen in a heap
The angels laugh at my predicament
Oh the imperfection
And Chopin's insistent piano sounds like drizzle
All lost in grey
As I change the CD to U2's latest
I think they still have hope
Yes life is but a Chaplin flick
It's all about the tramp
Lost in modern times
Battling the great dictator within and out there
And some aren't as literate as others
They can't spell every word
Or think quickly enough
But they still weep
And it is this crying
That brings us back to earth
I sometimes hear mum at night
I am powerless
And this is what we ward off
This pain
A gentle cry
The endearing pain
I have few bandages for your wounds
You must bleed alone
Yet I give to you this poem
In understanding
-
Morning Star
- Posts: 14
- Joined: Wed May 11, 2005 5:30 am
Only a while longer (20/11/04)
I am but a jaded leaf
On the forest floor
No one can see me
I don't build grand cathedrals
Speak to the maddening crowds
Gather taxes
Or grind my axe
I'm not so humble
In my solitude
Though I'm sorry if I swear
The great religions swing down
They utter truth from the same breath
And those in nondescript boardrooms
Play dice with your mortgage
Spell out your entertainment
Fuel your lover's wants
Yet I am left hollow
Begging for something
Panacea
Panacea!
Yellow roses leave an indelible memory
My father kept Gundel's beside his bed
Today I pick one for nobody
She left so long ago
A stranger in the photo
In my secret room
The mist is still
I am there
The sun blazes
Only a while longer
On the forest floor
No one can see me
I don't build grand cathedrals
Speak to the maddening crowds
Gather taxes
Or grind my axe
I'm not so humble
In my solitude
Though I'm sorry if I swear
The great religions swing down
They utter truth from the same breath
And those in nondescript boardrooms
Play dice with your mortgage
Spell out your entertainment
Fuel your lover's wants
Yet I am left hollow
Begging for something
Panacea
Panacea!
Yellow roses leave an indelible memory
My father kept Gundel's beside his bed
Today I pick one for nobody
She left so long ago
A stranger in the photo
In my secret room
The mist is still
I am there
The sun blazes
Only a while longer