tagText With AudioPatty's Tellin'

Patty's Tellin'


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green spike heels (trilogy)

she in green spike heels
tied me to a blarney stone
made me kiss for luck

green heels and stockings
with the dark seam down the back
her statuesque walk:
something I'll never forget
as she slowly walked away

touched me with velvet
the sparks dancing on my skin
her kiss electric
she hurt me like she meant it
'fore she slowly walked away

the pain ecstatic
I felt her masterful stroke
tightly bound to stone
knew my kiss had brought me luck
as she slowly walked away.

I would be lying
if I merely called her best
while tied tight to stone
she was the best to ever
wear stockings and green spike heels



Truth need be told, truth be in the tellin’ happened long ago, ‘fore the llennium gran-Patty says forty years since yellin’ on that crazy day march niney-ate, some long time ago. Gran-Patty knows the word for she’s done the tellin’ each year since then. For as long as I ‘member I’ve always heard her tellin’ the tale the herstory when our clan began, so long ago, was ‘fore the pet’roluem wars, dig-it-al age. Fine buildings stood tall, and men knew the lore, but rumble down world, the tumbling rage.

But I don’t tell tellin’, gran-Patty does, I walk to the place, the place of the clan to hear her voice a gain, and again coz when she stands ‘fore us now, as time began, with the green shoes, worn from them years ago, yes dem tall shoes worn when her hair was red and she danced the dance on her red haired beau, the clan be silent, to hear what she said, to hear the tellin’ of the strange tattoo, the strange blue tattoo left on a stranger. She was happy then, think him happy too caught in a fury, knew not the danger.

But I don’t tell tellin’, gran-Patty will, she’ll stand ‘fore us and tell of her wailin’, of the ropes, and the strange, strange man she still ‘members, and smiles. Standing at the railin’ ready to start, I look to my own love see her fair red hair, and the tall green shoes, knowin’ as decreed from far, far above, next tellin’ be hers, not hers to refuse. I smile there at her, waitin’ the tellin’, knowin’ her tattoos I’ll soon be wearin’ and her like gran-Patty will be yellin’, and dancin’ in tall green shoes so darin’.

But I don’t tell tellin’, gran-Patty’s last, she’s grown old ‘memberin’ and tellin’ the word of the green spike heel clan and our long past. Every year now she’s told it, and I heard, gazin’ at her proud beauty, the hair red shinin’ and turnin’ white through the long years. The tellin’s sometimes sad, her beau long dead, ‘members him fondly, the tellin’ with tears, sometimes ‘members him happy: tellin’ smiles. Gran-Patty’s last tellin’ about to start, the clan’s gather’d here, some standing in aisles, and gran-Patty smiles and begins her art. I’ll miss gran-Patty’s tellin’, but she knows must go join a green heel loving man from so long ago.


Truth need be told and truth be in the tellin’. Gran-Patty tole her last tellin’ and now follows her beau. Now I tell the tellin’ like she tole me for so many years. I learn’d the tellin’, I learn’d the tales, I will tell the tellin’ of “The Man Who Crossed the Sea.”

Yes, Subserrate was a strange man, thought hisself a poet. ‘e would write poems into a light machine, jus’ press little buttons and poems would appear. ‘e wanted to be famous, but all ‘e was ‘membered for was the strange poem of gran-Patty’s green shoes. But ‘e tried and tried to write more, but all we ‘member is “Green Spike Heels”. ‘e decided ‘e would cross the sea and write what ‘e saw.

Twas after the pet’roluem wars and Subserrate ‘ad to write the poems on paper. It ‘urt ‘is fingers and spellin’ was bad, but ‘e still wrote. ‘e tole gran-Patty ‘e would cross the sea. She was sad, but knew ‘e ‘ad to go, so she untied ‘im, gave ‘im a tattoo for luck and sent ‘im off. Now, I never saw gran-Patty ever cry, but I ‘eard tell, she ‘ad a tear in ‘er eye as Subserrate walked towards the sunrise.

I was one of the children that followed ‘im some. We followed ‘im till he got to the path where ‘e said goodbye. As ‘e walked away, ‘e sang somethin’ strange: “Follow the yellow brick road.” I always wondered about that ‘cause the path was black with white stripes. It was path number 40.

Anyway, ‘e walked and walked, disappearin’ as the sun rose. As ‘e walked ‘e saw many strange sights. Signs tole about villages and clans, some ‘ad jus’ numbers, some ‘ad pretty pictures, but most of the signs tole of a wonderful place, a place across the sea.

Soon ‘e reached the sea. Twas muddy brown, twistin’ and splashin’ all around. Subserrate could swim, but ‘e didn’t ‘ave to swim the sea. There, standin’ tall was a rusty, iron bridge: a bridge across the sea. As ‘e walked out onto the bridge it creaked and moaned, and looking down ‘e saw the sea beneath ‘im, but ‘e kept walking.

As ‘e got across, he saw some more signs. They tole about somethin’ called the “blues” and Beale Street. Subserrate smiled and kept walkin’, ‘eading for that street. When ‘e got there ‘e was so happy, ‘e danced, and sang something strange, something about “Emerald City” and a wizard.

Now, I learn’d the tellin’, I learn’d the tales, but I’ll not ever understand why ‘e took a black road that ‘e called yellow to cross a brown sea to an emerald city and a street that was blue. But, truth need be told and truth be in the tellin’. So I’ll tell the tellin’, shhhh lissen!

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