(no subject)
simone simon (1910-2005)
a woman who i never laid a peep on died quite recently
leaving me feeling like i should duck of to trash to pay homage to my original cat people.
she was a dame of alter egos
i loved her as a tragic predatory love triangle inducing hussy,
the way she prised that habitually amicable homogeneity that can only exist,
amongst a station master and his railway engineer;
i followed her daedal emotions as they honed on another,
as she utterly defined the psychologically scarred cohabitant of an tolerable male,
when she induced the panther reality when aroused;
i watched the psyche transformation to the ghost resultant of these feelings,
her cadaverous torment had qualities that not even the most dousing wake could extinguish,
and they returned to the tainted tryst of the tolerable types product of efforts to move on;
she was the messenger of the Beezlebub, not his mistress as reported and retorted;
she possessed enough talent to express the mental anguish of un-bathed french men, perishing from syphilis
she had acquired a knowledge as gracious as silent street urchin
enough of obituary poetics though,
i have a penchant for her reality television
a french mother & italian father
a rearing in snooty marseilles and paris
a training in the schools of berlin, budapest and turin
a sensuality that landed her the lush life of a fashionista and model
a secretary that delighted in stealing from her and parading her private life to the public
a voice that showered concubines with melodies and fancy gifts
a harmonica playing advocate of her character
a link to the american underworld
simone simon never married, but was the petite amie of a married french millionaire,
she hindered her career by gaining a reputation as an extravagant bitch and is worthy of her curious life.
a woman who i never laid a peep on died quite recently
leaving me feeling like i should duck of to trash to pay homage to my original cat people.
she was a dame of alter egos
i loved her as a tragic predatory love triangle inducing hussy,
the way she prised that habitually amicable homogeneity that can only exist,
amongst a station master and his railway engineer;
i followed her daedal emotions as they honed on another,
as she utterly defined the psychologically scarred cohabitant of an tolerable male,
when she induced the panther reality when aroused;
i watched the psyche transformation to the ghost resultant of these feelings,
her cadaverous torment had qualities that not even the most dousing wake could extinguish,
and they returned to the tainted tryst of the tolerable types product of efforts to move on;
she was the messenger of the Beezlebub, not his mistress as reported and retorted;
she possessed enough talent to express the mental anguish of un-bathed french men, perishing from syphilis
she had acquired a knowledge as gracious as silent street urchin
enough of obituary poetics though,
i have a penchant for her reality television
a french mother & italian father
a rearing in snooty marseilles and paris
a training in the schools of berlin, budapest and turin
a sensuality that landed her the lush life of a fashionista and model
a secretary that delighted in stealing from her and parading her private life to the public
a voice that showered concubines with melodies and fancy gifts
a harmonica playing advocate of her character
a link to the american underworld
simone simon never married, but was the petite amie of a married french millionaire,
she hindered her career by gaining a reputation as an extravagant bitch and is worthy of her curious life.