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whatever you do, please don't read poetry because it ruins your life.
poetry will grab your head and freeze it in time,
peeling your eyelids open while
laughing at you,
forcing you to stare at the ailments of the world with no safety on.

you see the world for what it is
and when you do
your life is in ruins

you begin to cast doubt as if doubt were the bless yous that followed a sneeze
it's the doubt that brings kings and kingdoms to their knees
and it's the poet who plants doubt in young, malleable minds.
something a little different and quite a bit shorter
they call me China doll
my skin is made from high-fired porcelain, sturdy and white
my lips are painted on rosebuds, saturated with blood
my body is dressed in a qipao, dating back to long ago
long before any white man stepped foot onto this land
but they don't know it as such

they forced me onto a shelf high up in the air
far away from their kid's questioning brain
and their curious, grubby stare

I'm a trinket
gathered on one of their otherworldly adventures in the far east
paraded around at dinner parties and feasts so they can boast
"look how we appreciate other cultures"
and while everyone congratulates the host
they seal me back into my tomb
wherein their sitting room, my eyes' constant gaze
peer at my republic
from behind the glass ever since the start of my days

so I resign
I resign myself to become nothing more than my bloodline
a simple China doll
uprooted from her home and ****** into the midst of the west
I am a perpetual foreigner
one who will remain in a constant flirtation with my nation
never able to call myself solely American
as that would be arrogant
I really feel like this one speaks to how Asian-Americans are never seen as "American" although some Asian-Americans have been in America for generations. That personally doesn't apply to me, but it seems almost natural for everyone to ask me where my family is from as they assume that I have no history in America.
all constructive criticism is welcome! :)
anastasia Jul 1
it's over a decade old
holding secrets I can no longer withhold
it's once vibrant colors now faded
and as I look into it my past feels jaded
I never knew how long it would last
that my hold on a lie would be so steadfast

the immensity and the intensity of the illustration is penetrating
behind us, the sun was pulsating
dancing among clouds, her beams shot through
like the final recital of a dancer who will bid adieu

the two of us poised like Greek statues in the light
him, in a sweater woven with gold and by sprites
and myself in a cape formed among the seven wonders of the ancient world
in front of a mansion that holds tales untold
the steps eager to see our eyes grow by tenfold

but then in the ensuing photograph
it is only I that stands
the glamour of my cape shedding
becoming the source of clamor
the lavender shade of my jacket is molting
falling apart, it reveals
a truth that only time can see
that our fanciful clothing was only a disguise
conjured up to distract their eyes
so this poem took inspiration from Margaret Atwood's "This is a photograph of me." After reading it, I subsequently wrote my own spin-off.
<3 - Anastasia
anastasia Jul 1
like a tree alone at night
my father sits in our garden
the lone star in the sky showers him with radiance
and apart from the wind tussling around with his parchment
the furious scribble of his pen
he is silent
and solitary

he is eternities away
lost in his mind space with no suit
and I can no longer recognize him
until suddenly
he jumps
taking a graceful swan dive into the untold
with no mission control relaying actions
just his mind

before he emerges with the sun
steadily walking towards my mother as she stands on our patio
the sky behind her as if it were painted by Van Gogh himself
turbulent and swimming with passion
I can see him again through the parted clouds
he is different, yet the same

as he turns towards my window
giving me the wink he always has
I realize:

no matter how far he travels
and how long he stays away
my father is still my father
and there is nothing that can make me feel any other way
hi :) this is the first poem that I've written and I'm ecstatic to write more and to improve my wordsmithing

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