Steven Cooke

Rookie (01-04-1958 / Sheffield)

Genie In A Gin Bottle - Poem by Steven Cooke

Her lips caress another cigarette
A fading belle looking for love
The smoke veils her face,
For she is, Genie in a gin bottle

Her Make up hiding the past
Silk fingernails hiding the smokers hand
Her wig of blonde hiding the soul beneath
The ladder in her stockings,
Torn like her Hollywood dreams

Her perfume sickly sweet,
Masking the odors from yesterday’s gin
The ashtray is full,
Cheap Lipstick covers the tab ends
Her vigil to find happiness
But he never comes.

Only a stream of chancers wanting to spin lady luck one more time,
Fuelled by the promise of paradise
A vacation from life,
A brag for jack Daniels

Under neon lights
A beautiful girl in a gin bottle,
An inner voice plays in her mind
“I could have been a movie star”
A role she can play all too well
But morning light never lies

Her beauty, has fled, left on the pillow
Like some Monet’s impression.
Regret lays sprawled out
Like yesterday’s salad, thrown out with the rubbish
For the slugs of corruption to eat
Her aging face revealing, every rejection,
Every turned down script, every broken dream
A lifetime of heart break

But she still plays her part well,
Play it again Sam
And another cigarette,

The same mistake, the same men,
From All the gin bars in the world,
She had to choose this one

Another lottery ticket to litter her despair
No winning numbers here
Her silent acceptance speech,
Laid bare in her blood shot eyes of regret
A mouthwash of gin,
And the genie of love returns to her bottle
Her legs bruised and varicose,
Testament to waitress by day, and genie by night

He closes the door, his only thought,
To get away, not his finest hour
Jack Daniels, his moral escape goat,
Nosey Neighbor’s, his jury
They bare witness to his walk of shame

She opens the curtains, and sees him fade into the faceless crowd
Alone again, a full ashtray, and an empty gin bottle,
Symbols of last night’s play,

The mirror torments her image
As She drinks coffee through smoke stained teeth,
A wave of her head, a smile, and a daydream
Tonight, her prince will save her
This is her delusion, her reason to live,

But Time is running out,
For she is part of life’s crap game.
The dice rolls once more
Will it be happiness? Or loneliness?
But in the end, deep down she knows
The House always wins, in tinsel town.

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Poem Submitted: Friday, December 9, 2011

Poem Edited: Saturday, December 10, 2011

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