I am ceramic
fragile and tragic
frozen in place
where you led me.
Statue of stone
bathed in this gold
I have no soul
can you save me?
I am ceramic
Can you tell me how
how to steal this sound
take the voice so loud
and drown it out, out, out-
break the waves that cull the demons
sing the pleasure as you mean it
never wander far from home
unless you know not where you go
footsteps buried under snow
blackened feet and bloodied soul
know not where you ought to roam
foam at the mouth
know no moan
can you tell me how it’s done
or sell me back what I have won?
Only the best mothers do
what it is that you would not
you see protecting you from harm
might mean they harm a lot
for when the day is done
and all her resources gone
you will end up returned
to where you truly belong.
All the money in the world
a shelter a better home
a dog is just a toy you see
not a child born
but Lena Dunham flips the script
a different recollection
of abusive events
before and after snap shot tense
she claims trainers, lessons and money spent,
but four years of training-
never a muzzle?
no, this loving mother
thought it too much trouble
to give her little Lamby
so she did what we now must
give a little mention
back to where he came from
that is where she sent him
just a special chance
at a postnatal abortion.
Hush-don’t say that name
you have lost that person today
they don’t stand here-
we’re not the same.
Please-don’t say that name
it reminds me of my shame
I have grieved much more than you
you could never feel as I do.
Hush-don’t say that name
I lost everything today
you, you’re not the same
you bring up my deepest shame
you have placed me with the blame
I just cannot hear that name.
Please… don’t say that name
please don’t say I look the same
why am I so damn ashamed?
you ask questions to break my frame
literal-the words are violence
say that name it’s dead to my lips.
Hush! Don’t say that name
they have died, but I remain
you will love me just the same
replace them in your memory
with old thoughts of what you see
play along and don’t you grieve
the name is dead, but I’m still me.
All the clutter in my head
noiseless sound and day old bread
can’t get up no sight or ground
my feet touching skyward bound
I am falling up not down
my words seem to make it loud
mouth is shut-they still persists
these words all out of context.
All this clutter in my head
I’d need three of me to send
just enough to breathe again
get these thoughts out of my bed.
And then it falls to pieces
like a puzzle in my head
the world a mirror around me
now shatters cutting red
I see only something-it’s name
I cannot place
for everything is broken, absurd
and out of date.
I can’t make the shadows
keep in their proper state
no reality can’t stay
everything again is clay
the mirror shatters then it breaks
snaps back into sight and space
puzzle pieces all in place
nothing shatters it’s just the same.
They will come
know they will
when you speak of ethics and will
they will try and take your voice
you have more then just one choice
never silence ethics or beliefs
the ones who abuse power
will sow what they reap
never allow for pennies to fall
luck for a movement
luck for them all
but leaders don’t act as they preach
subtle abuse and manipulative speech
blame the soldiers
blame the guns
don’t let the leaders take the brunt
of the blame for their actions
leaders often don’t like factions.
Just keep moving
never shut up
for ethics mean more
than just showing love
if leaders don’t bleed
their speech and language
you can be certain they aren’t
worth your patreon patronage.
Just a doll on a shelf
no use for nothing else
catch the dust
and sit real still
don’t know how I really feel.
Just a toy for their amusement
cannot refute just how I’m used
yet I’m impatient for real life
wish I knew more then to survive
just a doll upon the shelf
taking up space and nothing else
breaks the same as time will tell
no real voice just frills and lace
she sits quietly while in place
she cannot walk, speak, only take.
Flipping the script
a woman lacking integrity and wit
making the rest of us look like idiots
she’s a bully, manipulative feminist
using her gender to get out of it
this is a female who uses her tits
just a Katy Perry though much less famous…
The sky is a crisp blue the world is bright and the birds are singing. Everything is shiny. Everything smells of apple pies, of Liberation Day and of celebration. The not too distant ocean breeze carrying the anticipation of fireworks later that evening.
Mrs Johnson stands with her husband watching from the kitchen window “we’re never gonna find her a husband” she spreads soft hands across floured apron sighing.
“She’s a good girl, Susan” his voice is rough just as the hand he places round her waist. “Pretty too, and handy-what man don’t dream of a woman who can fix dinner and his truck!” He laughs a full belly laugh pulling his wife into him.
“That’s the problem Phil she can’t fix dinner!” delicate Susan bats at him her eyes focused on the fossil truck in the driveway. Young Cassi is currently tuning the ancient vehicle, but would burn the roast without turning on the oven. “She’s eighteen now, and has had more time with engines from the dark ages then boys-that’s a problem that’s a-”
“Attractive quality” he proudly interjects she looks up at him in horror, but before she can protest “a man loves an experienced girl for” he struggles rocking his head and shrugging “say a nice cruise up to cherry hill” she blushes as he bumps hip with her “but the girl you marry, the girl you marry spent her adolescents busying herself waiting for you.” He’s looking down a romantic smile in his eyes as she looks up still unconvinced “that’s why I married you”
Shoving him off “oh! What are you trying to say Phil!” she demands stamping delicately heeled foot to freshly installed linoleum floor.
He laughs again full belly “that you were a good girl” grabbing her by the wrist he pulls he in “the best girl-that’s why I married you while other girls were playing fast, my Susan was at home cooking and taking care of her studies. Every boy wanted you” her arms are wrapped about his rather barrel stomach looking up lovingly as he looks down smiling eyes “but I saw you, and you were mine. Cassi might not cook yet, but you didn’t know the difference between fossil and hybrid before I met you.” He hugs her tightly as she buries head into chest “or filo and watercress”
She laughs kicking his shin gently, not moving. Sighing that ever so lovely womanly sigh “you’re right, Phil, I’m sure when that boy comes along she’ll want to do those things and I’ll be here to teach her. Just like you talk her how to build par-”
The windows shake, hoots, cheers, and the roar of a road techtank fills the air. The couple sees Cassi pop out of the hood as the tank reaches their front yard “ahh the Castillo boys are home” Phil laughs waving into the window excitedly.
“Oh that’s wonderful! Diane will be so happy to have her boys home! And just in time for Liberation Day!” Susan comments to no one listening as Phil’s attention is on Cassi whose attention is on the eldest Castillo hanging off the tank looking down at her.
Musing he comments “this year let’s go to the Marina with’em pay respect to the boys”