#pinocchio
With each and every smile the lie grows
Gotta live with this Pinocchio nose
Black out curtains dress the windows
So, I suppose,
The only parts of me I expose
Are silhouette shadows
©2024
Jun 30, 2024
Jun 30, 2024 at 4:41 PM UTC
"I got cancer here."
My Kemah King said, pointing to his nose.
"Cancer in your nose?
Liar, I thought!
I didn't voice it!-
"I don't want you to die"
I thought, yet telepathically
my gold- heart read my mind word by word.
How I love you, adore you,
live long, healthy happy prosperous.
Hey handsome wild bird of paradise divine,
Will you cut off your long nose then hu?,
(I asked, inwardly)
Hu Handsome Pinocchio!?
~~~
It's been 50 years, how do you do? Surely with your prosperous wealth, you are in abundant best of health care anywhere on Earth!
Beloved Kings among Sheikhs.
Perhaps joined your space ship crew towards that new found peaceful world.
Oh you rddjpc! Handsome Roddy traveler Pinocchio, of mine!
Infinite true love,
AsgBba.
~~~~
By: Karijinbba.
2024.
Jun 16, 2024
Jun 16, 2024 at 1:04 AM UTC
You are like a magician
your hands working in stealth-like fashion
revealing little about who you are
finger prints of time have passed you by
as you honed your talents and skills
to manipulate people’s minds
so that they believe they are in control
all the while you hold the strings like
on a puppet or character named Pinocchio
obscuring or twisting the truth as you meld
our hearts and dreams into nightmares
providing dark thrills to your repertoire
while making victims of the audience
who attend these spectacles you readily compose
to entrap those weak of soul
and so it starts like someone under hypnosis
pliant to your every command
unaware of your intentions
until it is too late
Andreas Simic©
Jun 7, 2022
Jun 7, 2022 at 6:45 AM UTC
Little doll made of sticks,
his body felt as heavy as bricks.
Even as he lived in the forest,
he always came by a young little florist.
Nobody believed his words, not even all of the blue jay birds.
For the people around him his nose grew,
Even though to him, all he was feeling was blue.
Feb 19, 2021
Feb 19, 2021 at 12:44 AM UTC
Living life on a string,
I sat on the shelf above the wood carvers bench.
I stare out the window as a shooting star fades into the night sky,
It flies away, it has no strings, unlike me.
I was a popular toy,
The woodcarvers favourite in fact,
he would always show me off to the boys and girls,
a tap of the foot, a tip of the hat, the usual evening act.
He doesn’t play with me anymore,
He hasn’t for a very long time.
He’s been under the covers of his bed,
I’m afraid he’ll never wake up.
The room is often dark, damp and very cold,
The wood of my body is starting to splinter and mould.
A rotten stench fills the room and floods my nose,
A vase is filled with rancid water and a single, wilted rose.
I try to move but my body is as stiff as a board.
I try to call for help but my mouth does not open.
The paint that was once my eyes has faded away,
Blinding me in one eye, but I can still almost see the sky.
The speckles in the dark,
The stars in the great abyss,
What secrets do they hold,
Are they like me, do they got old, do they have strings like me?
The question bounces around my empty shell.
Another blink, a flash of light,
Pierces the sky with its mighty flight.
Followed by another, and another, and another
And another…
The sky filled with beams of light,
Stars travelling freely through the night,
No strings to hold them back.
A creak, a crack, and a fall.
The shelf had finally succumbed to the rot,
And with its contents, I begin my descent,
The cold dark floor below me making its approach.
Fear should have gripped me,
But instead, a warmth filled its place.
Is this how the stars feel when they fall from the sky?
It feels almost… peaceful.
I feel for the first time in a long time,
Like I can smile.
Falling with the stars,
I can’t help but feel happy.
There are no strings on me…
I am free…
Jan 21, 2021
Jan 21, 2021 at 11:42 AM UTC
Never should
One person
Sacrifice
Themselves in
Regard to an
Idiot who is a
Nuisance that
Generates
Suspicion while
Attending
To
The most
Accredited kind of
Choice
Hereafter
Edifying their
Delerium
Nov 4, 2019
Nov 4, 2019 at 11:02 PM UTC
World is full of lost souls
needing to anchor love.
Pull them
to your love dock.
If they resist let them float away.
knowing.... a big love fish will tickle their stomachs
and make them transmute
into their true soul selves.
OR... Knowing they will float to a dessert island
where they will be alone
till they learn
that love is the answer.
OR Knowing that Moby **** will swallow
them whole and perhaps they will meet Geppetto
who will than share wisdom about love
and maybe Pinocchio will come
to rescue them both
May 3, 2019
May 3, 2019 at 4:48 PM UTC
I feel like Pinocchio
made of wood, held up by strings,
hoping to be a real boy
but never reaching my goal.
Wishing for my own fairy godmother.
To be saved from the whale inside of me.
This darkness in my soul
Devouring every good thought.
And every speck of light.
I have water filling up my lungs now.
No land in sight
I am driftwood,
Floating in the sea
I strain to see past the darkness
Still wishing my impossible wish
Hoping to be a real boy.
Feb 22, 2019
Feb 22, 2019 at 1:39 PM UTC
I always try too hard to make everything I do look effortless, I am my own puppeteer, too scared to cut the strings incase I crumble to the floor heaped and pathetic.
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 5:17 PM UTC
I got no strings
to keep me here
though born of earth
of mother brown and father white
bored I listen to music:
"you're so natural - you're so free" "I'm seeing red'
"thats when I reach for my revolver"
it happened in Southampton
("say you don't want it").
Later,
holed up in
brick and stucco prisons that last
a lifetime
there wasn't much to do
when there was time to do it
Oct 22, 2016
Oct 22, 2016 at 4:44 PM UTC
It was spring
—there was a boy,
And with him was his father.
They sat along in rooms
That smelled of kerosene
And buzzed with machineries,
Their hands smudged black
With grime and plaster.
It was spring
—and his head was a golden halo.
How he was created,
I suppose we’ll never know.
So often the boy would ask,
“Father, father, what am I?”
(For if the father was trapped in his cage
With only a forge as his company,
Then what else could this little boy be?)
It was spring
—and the boy grew tall and proud.
Hair like fire and eyes like quicksand,
“My son, you will reach heights no man
Has ever reached before.”
It was spring
—and the father’s smile grew tired and weary
“I will not be caged,” and yet he was, he was.
Thus he took feathers from god-knows-where
And built wings from wax and cinders.
It was spring
—and my son, do not fly too close to the sun;
See there?
That is freedom—just do not fly too close to the sun.
And the boy nodded,
Little long nosed liar that he is.
It was spring,
—they say, when Icarus fell.
And here was freedom:
Wind sharp like glass
And the sun too warm,
The world minimal between his fingertips.
He burned bright, burned fast, died quickly.
(And they say the waves were gentle,
As clockwork spilled.)
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 10:25 PM UTC
She is dead,
Now I am free;
She had a will
And her eyes on me.
Her will had strings,
But can't you see,
I tore her strings
And I broke free...
She fought me hard,
But still she fell;
She kept me in,
While I gave her hell.
I was her nightmare
She'd never tell;
As weak she was,
She loved him well.
Her will is dead,
And so is she;
The one she protected,
Is no more free--
The one she hid,
Is now exposed;
The one she loved,
Will be disposed.
It cannot be,
She shares my stage;
She cheated death,
And turned the page--
She's alive inside,
Fighting the wars I wage;
She did not die,
She's crying in the birdcage...
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 12:59 PM UTC
This is no Lament,but an
Ode.I'm on my last hook of
The tune,as I hear voices hollers
On my back.this positivity keeps me
Locked on my de javus.
I'm livin' life like a video,
Onto press forward to my
Ambitions.I'm too proud of
Myself.
I'm on my utmost,every dream
Ends a picture perfect,as I imagine
Myself holdin' a throne at my
Closet.
I'm no Pinocchio but I iPaulistic
Art.im 'til live to the birth of
Next century,'cause I'm the
Third World War Soldier.
I'm a wanderer in disguise,searchin'
Triumph at night.
Guess my dreams ain't real,
Just livin' greatness of my fantasies.
Oh!!this is an omen.
I'm no Osama,but still a Pisces
I vandalize world of neysayers,
Forfeit negativities.
I separate dark and light
'Cause these street lights
Still shows me life on
My grind.
I'm down floor to my knees,
Bow down to all loved,losted
Zulu warriors,for Shaka to
Flourish my greatness.
Dear God,may you please sprinkle
Blessings upon my life,my path
Is grey a winter season.
'Till death takes me,but my
Dreams will forever last.
And if i die today tell me
I will make it through hell,'cause
Heaven is where the heart is.
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 6:00 AM UTC
Myths
They were not statues
and now you see what they see
looking back at you
Man
Her tongue, was so sharp
dissevers men from their ******
kisses them goodnight!
Our blind date went well
Next time leave my mask at home,
and her eyes attached.
Scratched, stained, double locked.
Basement corner, light bulb off.
Refrigerator.
Won't let him hurt you.
I promise, now go and hide,
Daddy is coming...
I don't remember,
I keep having these blackouts.
Sorry I hurt you.
Movie
Make-out Point, moonlight...
Turn their car radio on,
leave my hook behind.
50 ft. Woman,
dreams of a fifty foot world.
Curse my two left feet.
Empty, shiny man
His axe hacks you limb from limb
You hear a heartbeat
Wound too tight, tied down
Whisper lies, impale your skull
What is a real boy?
"Last person on earth,
dif'rent faces in mirror."
- Frankenstein's Monster
Miscellaneous
appeared as a zit
it grew, no concern for it
it spoke! holy ****
Lamprey fingertips
Coarse hair on infected tongue
Lotus seed ******
My beast sounds like love,
vanity to a monster,
hero to a ghost.
from Horrors Grotesque,
the existential monster
fears little carpals.
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 4:29 PM UTC
My world is not of the written word
It cannot be numbered
held captive on a so called page
My world is liquid
as sea , rain , snow or ice
It can be hot , cold , or entice
My world is cloudy
It thunders after it flashes light
My world is wrong , my world is right
There are no words that bind my life
I won't be delegated
to exist in the black on white
I will not be staved
by the limited sways
of the written words upon the page
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 6:58 AM UTC
A weeping walking stick
Carved with love into a marionette
Brought to life with a magic wand
Kicked him and ran away
Had him thrown in jail
Swatted away the chirping insect
Fell asleep by the fire
Woke up with my feet scorched off
He freed
And fashioned me new feet and fed me a pear
Books for my first day
Traded for ticket for the show
Earned five golden coins
Hung upside down by a fox and a feline
The enchantress saved me and tells me not to lie
Robbed and thrown in prison
Bailed out by a chicken farmer
Watching out for weasels
And given my freedom
He’s not home, he made a boat to search for me
I must find him and throw myself into the sea
Hard work has brought me flesh
Now I’m on an island of careless fun
I begin to resemble an ***
He hawing off a cliff
Swallowed by a fish only to find him
We are safe but he is sick
The enchantress comes once more
He is well and I’m a real boy
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 6:32 AM UTC
No matter how much times
I wish upon that star
It won’t change the fact that you’re still his puppet
Which is unfortunate because I want to see who you really are
I’ll try to be brave
Brave like a little tailor
But no matter how much I help out
It’s because of the lies, that I’ll always fail her
I’d play you a special song, in a strange little town
And all of the townsfolk would gather round
And you’d think their joy would make me happy
But no matter how hard I look there’s just one face that can’t be found
I’d flee from that town; I can’t swim across the river
But don’t worry the fox will give me a ride
But still I’m afraid I won’t make it
Because the feelings are eating me up inside
And just like prince charming
I’ll wake you with a kiss
I just want you to be happy
Because I hate seeing you like this...
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 6:13 PM UTC