Colonial Suicide

[mickey_one]

The Swampland Drawl
has swallowed his tool
He wants it back
but it's enjoying the crack

[George.Wright]

Good Gawd Mickey,
I'm not gay, are you???

Georges.

[mickey_one]

Good Gawd Mickey,
I'm not gay, are you???

Georges.

totally, I just never find myself attracted to women.

[Womanfromaroom]

totally, I just never find myself attracted to women.

Good job then that I have decided against lurking outside your backstage door (cf. RAH thread!).

[Violet]

... Georges... all this crack and anus stuff's confusing me... and tools are involved as well?... I'll have to examine all that later (m'lord)... Anyway, Georges, dearest, I have a lot of work work to do this evening... perhaps later I will don that black veil and we can continue where we left off... perchance I can wake you from your wetlands slumber (that may have come out wrong, actually)...

'til later then,

Naturally Born Violet (not Violent... Georges... my love...)

[George.Wright]

Violet

Excellent wit, we should get these exchanges published................

Gorgeous Georges.

[Cate]

Violet's again imagining herself with Georges in that car, as they pull over so that they can perform a secret wedding ceremony, Violet's long, in this case black veil (Georges insisted it be black) drawn out by the wind over the very steep and treacherous seeming bridge they are standing on... Georges takes Violet into his arms, kissing her deeply, finally feeling her to be his entirely... heart and soul -- forevertide, as he calls it (being from those dankish wetlands)... Then he takes her right there, entering her wholly, as the sheer black veil violently wraps around them in the furious wind...

Congratulations to the happy story book couple. I always like a wedding and I'm glad to see that they upheld their moral responsibilities and married first.

[Violet]

And those who write, begin to write
Those who crit begin
"Not welcome, not welcome" cries My Lord
"Let all my guests fuck off"

... My Lord... no doubt due to passages like this one (but please don't tell Georges, as I'm sure this is just a fleeting sensation, due to pass probably by the time I press the "submit" button -- gosh, that word seems to have other connotations, it seems... connotations I like, in fact...)... anyway, for this moment at least,

I love you,

Violet

[Violet]

... Georges, I can't believe I just let myself do that... it must just be a part of my own internal struggle against my own dark side... I do hope you can forgive me this itsy bitsy momentary slip, my most passionate and incendiary lover, my tarnished knight of the blood red roses, sweet Georges(ez)... (oh and we're (secretly) married now -- as Cate has pointed out)... Anyway, I miss you terribly... and well, makeup poetry is always something to look forward to in any case...

forever yours (no matter which cosmological place we wind up in at the end of it all),
your bloomingly lovely sweet
v i o l e t xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

[Violet]

(... your lordship... can't you write me just one itsy bitsy little love pome... you can make it very dirty... I won't mind... v i o l e t on her naughty side...)

[Violet]

My dearest Georges,

Cate had mentioned a poem her father used to recite to her that started... "through a thicket a forest grew," although she couldn't remember the rest of it. So, I thought to write a poem that began with this line... and of course I thought of you. If you are at all angry with me for anything naughty I might have done (or wanted to do) with his lordship while you were away, perhaps this poem will be a first in a series of "makeup" poems... I hope someday you'll write me a makeup poem too, maybe between all the random slayings you perform out West (if I can't stop you from committing them, that is)... Of course, I realize this poem speaks to my goodness, as opposed to my naughtiness, and actually, come to think of it, you'd probably prefer a naughty poem... oh, well, one has to start somewhere... Oh, I have a poem title for you, Georges, that you might want to try, a phrase that came up earlier and I thought, wow, Georges would really like this I think… “Suicide Bride”…

your ever-blooming,
Violet



Through a thicket a forest grew


Through a thicket a forest grew,
Georges, and the friends he knew,
spoke of a maiden they did eschew,
Sweet Violet was her name.

Sir Georges in his power did grow,
and Violet fell beneath the snow
that covered the ground and fields below,
there Violet made not a sound.

And in his glory the knight saw that,
there was a feeling, some sense he lacked,
so pondered he in snowy grounds,
a silent, frozen mask.

And through the forest the thicket
grew, all white and barren with thorns
poked through, 'twas there he met a
wipperwill, that sang there through
the night.

A song that conjured now the dawn,
and with the sun, such violets bloomed,
the knight so awed by what he saw:
the grounds' awakened beauty.

Remembered he his Violet fair, why
had he spake so harsh of her, when
all she’d done was love him where
his other loves did falter.

She then awoke, as with the dawn,
she put her purple vestments on, she
came alive, so found her man, now
crying with thorns about him.

These she took away with care, she
soothed his wounds, and kissed him
fair, she saw the wounded boy in there,
and too, the wounded soldier.

And now with Violet and Georges back,
the snow did melt, the wipperwill
left, the villagers did sweet garlands
make, to celebrate their nuptials.

For ‘tis a tale of worldly truth, some
who are fair, are not so good, and
some of good are fairer still, to those
that see their goodness.

And thus did Georges learn a lot,
became he like Sir Lancelot,
the wipperwill himself returned,
like Georges to his Vi-o-lott,
so too this happy end.


forever your Violet, this cold, near winter eve…

[George.Wright]

Violet,
It's sweet to read such a poem you have captured for me.........You are the fairest of maidens and I shall quest for your hand......

Sir Georges.

[Violet]

Dear Georges,

Your undue kindness unseats me (is that the right expression?)... In any event, I feel myself falling for you all over again... and here I thought you'd return home only to be angry at me... how lucky I am to have found you... One small detail, though... we are (secretly) married, are we not? Or perhaps you only remember this when you have your sunglasses on (I see you've switched to your visor)... must be the poem, I guess... I should remember that for the future (gosh, that's Leonard's "Killers" song)... anyway, sweet love, when you start fixating on that violence spree of yours, I'll just switch over to something more knights of the round table and VOILA: you seem to snap right out of it... (yes, I noticed too that "viola" and "violet" seem to have something in common)...

But back to what you were saying -- about questing for my hand, I mean... the quest... wow, Georges, you are perhaps a bit like Don Quixote... and actually, speaking for myself, I mean, given my own divergent tendencies, I'm a bit like -- well at least the woman I remember from the musical version... the fair Dulcinea (when I'm being oh so good), and then I'm more like Aldunza, when I'm seeming a bit more of a -- Anyway, I do agree that a more formal wedding would be nice... then we could go out West for our honey-ee-oh, maybe not out West... how about somewhere in the Caribbean perhaps? that way you could still wear your sunglasses, and you'd be less likely to start shoo -- actually, I think some exotic drinks on the beach would do us both some good right about now... (I'll ask Cate if she remembers any particularly lethal ones) (uh, that's probably a poor choice of words, in this instance)...

Anyhoo, much work to do... still, I'll be thinking of you on this crisp, near winter day...

my love to you, my dearest, sweetest Sir Georges(ez),

Violet (secretly Mrs. Georges "Thrillers" Wright) (preparing now her lavender colored veil and princess-like gown)...xx
x
x
x
x
xxxxx

[George.Wright]

Violet,
Perhaps we could have a few "Sex on the Beach" drinks?

Anyways, must remember to take my visor off..........

Georges.

[Violet]

... oh, no, my dearest knight... I actually prefer the visor, and will attend to it with violets... yes, I believe sex on the beach was what I had in mind...

dreaming of you,

Princess Violet