"barbies" poems
During a walk through the hallway
of the primary school
I find hallways
filled with turkeys and leafs and stiff scrawled characters.
What is Mr. Smith's class thankful for?
Flowers and toys and cars and dresses and pink and purple and soccer and skirts and barbies and family.
How could you sum up all of the things you are thankful for in one word?
At the end of the hallway I am faced with a choice:
*What are you thankful for?*
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What am I thankful for?
Happiness, and family and security and nature and
friends.
I am thankful for friends.
I am thankful for laughs and chatts and cries and sobs and games and smiles.
I am thanful for ****** contortions and 80s dance sessions,
for inabilty to speak.
I am thankful for hobos, eating on the side of the road,
and for devious scheymes of intoxicatation.
Hep beni anlayan bir arkadaşım var müteşekkirim
and who listens to my sob stories.
I am thankful for singing in the rain.
And styling hair in the sink
for screeching and howling
and hissing.
I am thankful for obkirchergasses,
for Ströcks and for ice cream plarlours.
I am thankful for mentos,
and walnuts.
I am thankful for bad lip readings and hilarious youtube vidoes.
I am thankful for unknown languages and nymphs
and for eloquence.
I am thankful for good taste in music
and for strong opinions.
I am thankful for dancing indian pirates with demon chicks and fireballs.
I am thankful for two-headed teenagers and barbeques.
I am thankful for God and healthy choice prayers,
and Hawaii get aways.
I am thankful for huge, hanging sweaters and crazy, funky leggings.
I am thankful for deep talks about the world's lack of beauty
and for poetry buddies.
I am thankful for dodgeball playing mice,
and poor old wenches.
I am thankful for pirate and mermaid adventures.
I am thankful for the looks we get:
looks of loud disapproval,
and whispers of quiet exasperation.
I am thankful for golden men and loud singing,
for crazy dances with crazy cousins and cute brothers.
I am thankful for Aunt Jemima.
I am thankful for banging on metal bars with rocks and shouting at the top of our lungs.
I am thankful for climbing over gates in order to not step on cracks.
I am thankful for amazing humanities teachers.
I am thankful for a laugh when the day is over.
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How those kids manage to fit all of their thankfulness into one word is beyond me.
Even the one-word things we are thankful for, must be described with a million words.
Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 7:42 AM UTC
**SKY BLACK AS TAR AND TWICE AS THICK GOD I KNOW YOURE NOT SUPPOSED TO WISH DEATH BUT THE WORLD WOULD BE BETTER OFF I ******* SWEAR OH!!!!!!MY GOD I KNOW SCREAMING DOESNT MAKE GOOD POETRY BUT I WANT TO TEAR MY HOME TO PIECES TEAR MY FINGERNAILS FROM THEIR BEDS CURSES CAST OUT WILL COME HOME TO ROOST BUT I WOULD SACRIFICE ANYTHING TO SEE YOU DEAD!!!!!!!DECAPITATION ISNT PRETTY LIKE THE PAINTINGS HUMAN HEADS DONT POP OFF AS CLEAN AS BARBIES BUT ILL SAW THROUGH YOUR CERVICAL VERTEBRAE AND THE LAST WORD ON YOUR LIPS WILL BE A GURGLE!!!!WITH YOUR BONES UNDER MY BED I WILL SLEEP PEACEFUL FOR THE FIRST TIME IN YEARS YOU ARE POISON EATING THROUGH THE HANDS OF MY FRIENDS YOU ARE THE DEVIL QUOTING SCRIPTURE IN THE EARS OF CHILDREN!!!!!TRIGGER DISCIPLINE KEEP YOUR FINGER FROM THE KILLING STROKE TILL YOURE READY TO COMMIT ARE YOU SURE? ARE YOU SURE? ARE YOU ******* SURE ARE YOU READY TO SHARE YOUR BED WITH A CURSE KEEP YOUR FINGER OFF THE ******* TRIGGER BEFORE YOU SHOOT YOURSELF IN THE FOOT WHAT THE FUCK!!!!YOU TOLD ME YOU WERENT CRUEL!!!!YOU TOLD ME YOU WERE SAFE I ******* BELIEVED YOU AS IF I DESERVED SAFETY AS IF I COULD TRUST YOU BUT YOURE ******* EMPTY!!!!WEARING MY FACE TO COVER THE ******* HOLE IN YOURS WEARING MY SMILE YOU USED ME YOU USED ME AND YOURE WEARING MY ******* SMILE!!!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR! LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!**
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 3:34 PM UTC
Ignorance is bliss,
really,
more like Stupidity.
an aspect,
benefiting a person,
like cold sore,
irritating,
an annoyance,
peevish to your life.
Face it, honey,
you’re as fake,
as your personality.
You’re plastic,
I could melt you,
if I truly desired,
setting a lighted match,
to your artificial body.
Please, take some advice,
lay off the make-up,
you look like a clown,
maybe a **********
Tanning is acceptable,
but looking dark orange,
is outrageous.
There is no need to look,
like you just rolled in bag of Doritos,
that’s Snooki’s Job.
There is more to life,
besides appearances,
waking up like P. Diddy,
sweet heart, don’t like be Kesha,
it’s ******
Partying is enjoyable,
but not necessary every night,
consisting of drinking,
frat boys, jocks, pretty boys,
saying “oh my god”,
or “I broke a nail”,
and precarious ***
I know you were raised with Barbies,
but you don’t have to be one.
Barbie is a piece of plastic,
containing no originality,
with an unfeasible body,
and isn’t real,
much like yourself.
Stop with the act,
no one wants to be,
around a person,
who is often intoxicated,
narcissistic,
and a ditzy *****
You can be a girly girl,
but be genuine,
stop being a follower,
if everyone jumps off a bridge,
then you’ll be splattered,
upon the ground with them,
no use to anyone.
My words are probably useless,
going right through the holes,
of yours ears,
attached to the plastic head of yours.
Anyways, I tried,
as excruciating as it was,
to reach out to you,
who are living this life,
of alleged greatness,
more like a travesty,
in my eyes.
Hopefully, you’ll change,
wake up from this social stupor,
become yourself,
regain your individuality,
and cease to be,
a Barbie doll.
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 2:54 PM UTC
You know how the Lorax spoke for the trees? I feel the need to speak for my four-year-old niece. Not because she can't speak -- she can and rarely stops once she starts -- but because there are certain concepts time has yet to grant her. So until time does, I got you covered, Lucy.
Mommy,
you call it the "poetry" of a child's sleep,
ohh 'n ahh, she's so, so sweet,
I call it child's "pose." Not the yoga neither.
I'm posing and rolling and cooing
biding time until you're tripping on the
Ambien retreating to a dream.
You're only reprieve.
'Cause when your *** is asleep,
I be mixing up the Play-doh,
red and yellow, black and white,
'till it's 50 shades of brown, alright?
Dirt pies from the backyard,
put 'em by the brownies
in the morning world-weary in your pajamys
Slip-up, slip-up, I smell a slip-up.
Ain't a direct threat, Queen Buttercup
because you'd just say, "I ain't afraid of you, shorty."
Blood flow. Blood slow. Simmering, saucy.
Mommy, looking down skyscraper balcony.
May I remind, a giant ain't bringing down Manhattan,
It's that little, wayward wrecking ball, eh Captain?
Over my shoulder, drinking from a thermos --
stumble in your step mean you gettin' nervous--
hand me piece of paper and two crayons
macaroni orange and swamp water liaisons
these coloring sheets are so bourgeoisie.
These coloring sheets are so bourgeoisie.
"Color outside the lines, eh Lucy?
don't play by the rules," my Mommy say,
but I been around long enough to know dat
'dese rules pay. Outside the lines? Is just uh sloppy.
Been outside the club in front of the line
with my fellow shawties.
Slip-up, slip-up, I smell a slip-up.
Ain't a direct threat, Queen Buttercup
because you'd just say, "I ain't afraid of you, shorty."
Blood flow. Blood slow. Simmering, saucy.
Mommy, looking down skyscraper balcony.
May I remind, a giant ain't bringing down Manhattan,
It's that little, wayward wrecking ball, eh Captain?
Chicken and fries three meals-a-day.
Chocolate milk three meals-a-day.
Tricycle boys three wheels away.
Hands on your hips can't make me stay.
Lego blocks lodged in your skull.
I've hid the Advil. The Dayquil. Drank the Nyquil though.
Alright, alright, time to get confessional.
All my ***** accidents are intentional.
I melt my own Barbies to feel alive.
Snort glue sticks just to get hella high.
Mommy, you've got a messy ketchup face.
Mommy, you've got spiders in your hair.
Mommy, you've got ****** on your pants.
Ha. Ha.
Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Bi-otch.
Blood flow. Blood slow. Simmering, saucy.
Mommy, looking down skyscraper balcony.
May I remind, a giant ain't bringing down Manhattan,
It's that little, wayward wrecking ball, eh Captain?
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 7:29 PM UTC
She always burned her
Barbie dolls after she cut
All the hair of that plastic,
Magic perfect blonde ****
She was 11 and had just
Always hated how all
Her family and friends kept
On giving her a doll
That was perfect and had all
And she just couldn't see
The relevance and the elephant
In the room is insecurity
So at 11 she Cant see what she is
but what she is not
her imperfections made her check
If Barbies got what she got
But Barbie did not barbies
perky with both ***** and ****
Her legs don't grow hair
And she don't need cover up
And her short legs look
Nothing like barbies do
Even her *** and
Thighs are all proportioned too
Fit her spectacular body's frame
that frames her reflexion
with the blame to detain
what remained as complexion
Of her oily pimpled skin that
Is too fair and needs a tan
And living up to all that not to
Mention a corvette and a man
That's why Barbie hangs across
Her closet where her mom
Saw the Barbie dolls She hung
by the neck yelling what's wrong
butShe just masks how she
felt so a head doctor was
a psychiatrist who sighed
A bit but had sided with her cause
She was an ugly duckling herself
That Never grew to be pretty
But the city has no pitty for no
Pretty so best you be witty
And told her to keep with the
hate she now held for Barbie
and before She left the doctor said
**** a corvette get a Ferrari
So She left happy but hardly
Cured of her obsession
Over beauty and style,
With a classy shoe collection
But she is now only 11
And reassures herself that she
Is no barbie and would repeat
barbies not prettier than me, and
Til she believes it she still burns them
To hang them soar
Shows a mirror to the bald barbie so
She knows she's not pretty no more
See what its like to feel too short
as She cuts at the knee
She says" i can be more
like Barbie if she's more like me"
Wheres obese Barbie,
or Immigrant Barbie from far
Black haired or short haired Barbie
Who's bus pass is her car
How about welfare Barbie or
realistic Barbie anything but
A smooth long haired long legged
Perfect shaped ***** and ****
With Friggin hips child birth was
Not made for and why
She asks Can't barbie have flaws so
I can pause the feeling that I
Will fail before I try if I
Am expected to be
So beautiful and Barbie never talks
No wonder kens easy to please
the message seems look pretty and
Dont talks all u need
So she hangs them violently
but quietly wishing they would bleed
But as she gets older shell
Like herself more and won't dwell
That god didn't make her a Barbie
maybe hes not as good as matel.
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 11:20 PM UTC
Maybe we should sympathize
with the tiny waisted girls
that cake their face with a layer of colorful protection
that wear jeans tighter than the sealed bottle of meds
they take to stay skinny.
They cheat their way to the idea of beauty its true.
Pills to take away the fat,
painting their face to attract the opposite ***
Cloths that might as well be a thinner second layer of skin.
Its disgusting, what we consider beautiful
It's sad that girls aspire to achieve it.
Its sad that some do.
I envy maybe, their happiness, but
what if its not real?
What if secretly they feel as we do
the "average" crowd they are "forced" to coexist with
I do wonder, but then and ice cold snarl
from perfect straight white teeth hits me in the face
burns my retina and forces me give an equally evil shot from my
painfully normal features.
And I am reminded of the god awful truth.
They do not wonder what we think,
as if we were a separate species,
they look more alien than we.
God made man in his image
and I'm almost positive
he didn't look like plastic.
They desire to look like the air brushed figures seen in magazines
Something only wishes can achieve.
Something only paper thin models on paper can look like.
Something only a computer can achieve.
Its sad.
I do not envy them.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 9:16 PM UTC
Bouncing down the tall stairs
Hazel eyes and short blonde hair
Daughter, the first of two
She looked up to you
Mama’s girl was so small
Not like her dad at all
Daddy liked to fish, hunt and hike
Kayak, canoe and mountain bike
She liked all the little girl things
Barbies, crayons and trampolines
Today I sit in your old kayak and gear
And think about us as if you were still here
I wish we could do all these things together
Now we’re the same, but you never got better
In and out of hospitals all the time
Still we all thought that you would be just fine
No answers, no cure and little treatment
But you had hope in the discouragement
Time has passed and you’ve been missed greatly
I realize now just how much you gave me
Your stubbornness, determination and drive
Your deep love and passion of all things outside
Dad, so many things we could do
I want to be back there with you
On the water with that kayak
But nothing will bring those days back
So many things you’ll miss
Stories of my first kiss
Frightening my prom date
Seeing me graduate
Walking me down the aisle
Tearing up all the while
Dad, you are loved and you are missed.
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 4:28 PM UTC
Do we have any idea?
Have we even got a clue?
Can it be that we don't give a ****
what others are going through.
Are we so wrapped up in selfish mode?
So devoted to our own.
That we should sit back and watch
as others are gnawed down to the bone.
Should it be that our own offspring
if they were cast away so far?
Would we worry about that pipeline
bringing fuel to run our car?
Or would we stand aloft in horror
as they were thrown unto the ground?
Or for fuel thats cheap and plentiful,
is it ok to make no sound?
We hear about disasters.
Tsunami strikes upon Japan.
Earthquakes raging out in Haiti
Watch death befall our fellow man.
Throw donations in a bucket
at the supermarket doors,
then forget because of shopping.
but we have paid towards their cause.
Could you ever even fathom?
Your children crying as they play,
not for Barbies or Play-stations
but for the pain to go away.
Never asking for the latest
made by Hamleys or Mattel
rather just an handfull of food
to help beat the starvation battle.
Wash it down with poison water
from a river filled with ****
or collect in rusty tin cans
from a worn and stagnant pit.
If this was the plight of our children
things would surely be said.
We would try to move a mountain
rather than our young be dead.
Could you ever really imagine?
Could you ever really get,
that a million hits on You-Tube
turn endangered species into pets?
What if someone could ask on face-book
about your daughter or your son,
saying"It looks so cute and cuddly,
"go on e-bay and buy me one."
If only we could all be happy,
not feel a need to own the place.
If we could learn to be contented
by a childs smiling face.
Treat the world with awe and wonder.
Treat its creatures with respect.
Treat each other in this same way.
Treat nobody with neglect.
Then perhaps we may push together,
make our Governments do right.
Let's lead the World with people power,
no more starvation or blight.
Let's be less materialistic
let us have a life of worh
Not by owning all we see,
rather sharing this our earth.
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 10:51 AM UTC
6 years old
loves barbies
plays outside
learning to ride a bike
shes getting taller
9 years old
loves chapstick flavors
walks outside
rides her bike everywhere
she is the tallest in her class
14 years old
loves mascara
runs outside to burn off the cupcake
bike sits alone
she is the biggest in her class
16 years old
loves black
runs lines down her arms, she doesnt see the sun
she drives around for hours thinking about everything but nothing
she is shrinking
18 years old
loves loneliness
runs and runs and runs from herself
she drives around hoping that she will be strong enough to make it home
she is breaking
slowly
20 years old
loves skipping meals
goes running until she feels like she's going to pass out, then runs another mile
she drives around thinking about her suicide attempt and thinks about heading home
she doesn't even know if home is a place or a feeling or if its real
lines going up her thigh now because she found out that wrists make people worry
people don't understand the process of self destruction
it started a long time ago
and it will never end
until she does.
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 1:45 AM UTC
When I was younger I was very girly,
I wore dresses and leggings,
But never jeans.
I loved pink and purple,
And I loved sparkles and bows.
I was very girly,
But I hated dolls.
I drew on my sister's baby dolls with ballpoint pens,
Covering their foreheads with my cryptic squiggles.
I would strip my Polly Pockets,
And let them lay naked and ashamed on my bedroom floor.
I would take all the limbs off of my Barbies,
And rearrange them into disfigured beauty queens.
Fake people have always bothered me.
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 9:43 PM UTC
We paint over the things we dont think are normal and expect the bumps from the truth hidden beneath this temporary solution to quickly disappear as if every fault we hold inside of who we are can simply be ignored. I remember watching the paint dry but i was never able to identify if it dried from top to bottom or bottom to top, and that may never truly matter to anyone but me. That paint mau dry and harden and make us all god **** statues but for me it was always knowing that once i got home id have to hide and i can only hide for so long. When i was born they painted pink over the already blue walls trying to desguise who they were hoping id be, or at least what my father wanted. As i grew up the paint began to chip and the patches of blue were so beautiful compared to the bright pink. Pink. Pink bows pink tutus, learn to do ballet tory. Pink barbies, pink lipstick, pink earrings. The color pink just sends shivers down my spine, they said pink is how you identify if you are born female. Blue. Blue eyes, Blue shoes, blue chest binder. Blue the color of my freedom. I remember painting over my words as soon as i told you that i no longer belong under the category of being your daughter. Blue laughter, blue skies, pink cheeks, pink dresses. Painting over the walls of who we are and how we identify is our greatest weapon, too bad my paint ran out a long time ago.
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 3:56 PM UTC
1.
People say you can tell a lot about a woman's style by what her nails look like.
For my mother, acrylics with baby pink sparkly french-tips.
For the blonde sitting at the nail dryer, coral.
Something about the color
looks strange with her new engagement ring.
She talks about how the second time she hung out with her fiancé
she asked him to paint her nails.
Her mother, who she insists she'll pay for, gets french tips.
They look new and fresh in contrast to her tarnished wedding ring.
The little girl with skinned knees and bug bites sitting in the chair across from me asks for blue polish on her toe nails.
Her mother tells her she should get pink.
2.
The act of women getting their nails done reminds me of warriors being armed for a fight.
long acrylics,
pointed,
rounded,
squared,
all fit for different types of battle.
Pointed for the woman who has to walk home alone at night,
rounded for the woman in the workplace who must work harder than her male co-workers,
and square for the woman at home raising her kids to know that strength and kindness
are the same thing.
3.
The women who work here speak better English than most high school students.
And their accents tell stories that I will never know.
An older woman speaks loudly and slowly,
she treats them as if they do not understand.
She will not speak to anyone but the owner; she wants him to translate what she wants to the salon workers.
What she doesn't realize is
that she is the only person here who doesn't understand.
4.
The little girl's doll is named Tessa.
She tells me that she likes my hair and shoes,
even though she has been told not to talk to strangers
twice in the last hour she has been here.
She asked her mother for change,
we all assume it's for the gumball machine in the corner.
She puts all of it in the charity jar.
I hope this girl never changes.
5. Having bare nails in a nail salon
feels the same as being naked in public.
6.
I feel terrible for laughing at the women trying to walk in those little salon flip-flops.
Some look like ducks,
others look like trained Barbies;
marching
newly polished,
ready for the world to chip away their coating
over,
and over,
and over again.
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 5:04 PM UTC
Shadows on walls
Voices with no mouths
Faces that don't exist
Yet I can see them clear as day
I want to go out
Party the night away
Get drunk on laughter
Get high on the friendships
But where are they
These fake friends I have
Hallucinations in the night sky
Illusions I conjured up
While playing with Tonka toys
Ripping poor Barbies head off
I need friends
I need people willing to listen
I'm tired of wiping
Tears from the eyes of shadows
I want my tears to flow now
I want real friends
I never will though
Because these shadow knives
Hurt like hell
When plunged deep into my back
Guess it's time to move on
Rid my mind of fake friends
And play with guns and blades
Plunge my own knife
Into the pulsating demon
That lays deep in this echoing cavern
I'm tired of dealing with lies
And fake ******** drama
I need real friends
Willing to carry me through my struggles
Quick to dial 911
When I cut a little too deep
Or when foam starts bubbling at my mouth
Because I didn't mind the warning label
That clearly stated "Don't drink alcoholic beverages with medication"
Fake *** friends
**** them
Hi I'm Robert
Anybody want to be my friend?
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 11:58 AM UTC
sometimes we wonder why bad things happen
when we forget our blessings and count our tragedies
we mourn and grieve and hug and pray
and hug and cry and hug and say
I love you
we spread our fingers to hold numb hands
and we look each other in the eyes and let tears fall
we hold each other and don’t let go
for fear of life disappearing
before and our damp and betraying eyes
we watch in awe as others stand strong
laughing and smiling and honoring her spirit
unbroken unfazed and unforgettable
“Batman and barbies” he reminisces and shares
as composure escapes for a moment
the best daughter, sister, friend and teacher
above in the heavens for all to share
Allison, we love you and miss you dearly
and as we try to go on living in your honor
please forgive us if we break down and cry
You are beautiful and we’ll see you soon
it won’t be long
Feb 20, 2012
Feb 20, 2012 at 8:28 PM UTC
Fat
A word created by the devil to make others feel ugly
Ugly
A word created by the devil to lower self esteem
Our society lets the devil rule it by creating anorexic models
Wearing caked on make up
Telling little girls they need to look like Barbie
That make up will solve all your problems
The biggest lie the devil ever told was convincing girls they look better with make up on
Society tells girls there ugly unless they have the perfect waist
The biggest *****
The best butts
Why so magazines will sell
Why because men only want anorexic fake barbies for wives
Well it's just a bunch of lies by the devil
Believed by the little girls who want barbies
Believed by the girl that u call fat and ugly
The girl u make fun of for her pimples
So they turn to the devil and listen to him and starve themselves for guys who will never care
Cake their face with make up so u will call them pretty one day
But it's all just a bunch of lies
God makes no mistakes
Your beautiful just the way you are
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 11:48 PM UTC
Working at the amusement park is a grand old time.
There’s nothing like having to hide
In the ticket booth when you wanna smoke a joint
So your boss doesn’t find out and fire you.
Every ride has bright, multicolored lights
And this is how I waste my time away.
The closest bathroom is half a mile away,
Those Porta-Johns are full all the time
And always smell like Marlboro Lights
It’s where those teen brats like to hide.
A kid always asks for another toy gun from you
And immediately bends it all out of joint.
Jocks, barbies and snotty kids mill around this joint,
Throwing all their money away
Buying more and more tickets from you
Screaming, complaining, cheating all the time
And there’s no good place to hide
With all these obnoxious lights.
They’re poor substitute for big city lights,
They only illuminate this cheesy joint,
Don’t even let ***** gutters hide—
I’m surprised they don’t want to look away.
Cotton candy disappears in your mouth every time,
But you think it’s worth it, don’t you?
The only boy who ever liked you
Works across the park, beyond the lights,
But you miss him waving at you every time
Because some skeez is yelling, “Let’s blow this joint!”
And a mom drags her eight kids away
Screaming, “One more word and I’ll tan your hide!”
Why do the five-year-olds always play hide
And seek in the Fun House? “Hey, you!”
Where the hell are your parents? Go away!”
Finally Anna, who manages mini golf, lights
A gloriously white-papered little joint
And we smoke until closing time.
This is where I hide, and yet these lights
Are poor substitutes you know, for home, the joint
You tried to get away from, before you wasted your time.
Apr 19, 2011
Apr 19, 2011 at 7:19 PM UTC
*before you start reading, please not that the Barbie in this poem is not the registered trademark that is the Barbie doll (all is revealed in the notes)*
When Barbie wakes up in the morning
Even the birds stop chirping in fright
She makes her way to the wardrobe knowing
What is inside will start the day right
First to be donned is her barbarian bra
It takes quite a task to fill
She really is ever so grateful for her bra
It keeps all the best bits subdued and still
The bras must always go on first
Without it she would be in trouble
If the briefs went on first without the bra
To this day she’d still be bent over double
Next on are the bountiful bootylicious briefs
She worries that they may have shrunk
Mayhap she should stop putting them in the dryer
They are essential to keep all her junk in her trunk
Over the top of the barbarian bra
Goes a sweater with the deepest V neck you’ll find
The cleavage that is on display is important
It keeps the focus from straying to her behind
On go the boots and laced up tight
These babies were made for walking
But most days they are just for comfort
Unless she’s up for some stalking
Last of all on her perfectly coiffed head
She settles her beautiful hat
It looks a little like a large table umbrella
In fact, once upon a time, it was actually that!
She’s now ready to start her day
And the birds resume chirping like a choir
Barbie is ready to face the world dressed in her
Barbarian Bra and Bountiful Bootylicious Briefs and
Other Amazing Attire
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 2:03 AM UTC
The Lego castles I built when I was little
Aren't strong enough to keep you safe
But they are the best I can do.
And I promise
The collapsed dollhouse in the garage
Is not a fair representation of me.
Though it might be a bit too close to the truth.
And I've never been good at Jacks
But I promise to pick up all your pieces
Every time you get thrown around.
And I got good practice
Taking care of people
Through all the stories I made up when I was five
And the rubber heads of my Barbies
We're always still connected to the plastic bodies
At the end.
So I think I have good experience
On how to stay alive in the real world
So maybe we could live in Lego houses forever
Please?
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 12:49 AM UTC
Born He,
Discovered She within,
Express her, teased, laughed at, pain,
Hide, act like the other little boys,
Smile, battle the pain, just be happy.
She moves within the shadows.
A shimmer of light, home alone,
A chance to grow, express her,
Caught, rejected, pain,
Hide, act like the other young men,
Smile, battle the pain, just be happy.
She moves within the shadows.
Married, wife, children, life is wonderful,
Baseball, Barbies, basketball, XOXO
Hide, act like the other husbands/dads,
Smile, battle the pain, just be happy.
She moves within the shadows.
Marriage issues, stress, depression,
Open up, wife confused, sad, sicken,
Rejected, pain, world collapsing,
Hide, act like the other husbands/dads,
Smile, battle the pain, just be happy.
She moves within the shadows.
Divorce on the horizon, feels like death,
Pain, hide, be strong in front of kids,
Smile, battle the pain, just be happy.
She moves within the shadows.
Seek help, Jesus, therapy, Trinity UMC,
Strong growing support, acceptance,
Others with pain, be Her,
Smile, battle the pain together, finding happiness.
She moves slightly out of the shadows.
Divorce still on the horizon, still feels like death,
Kids all young adults, happy, healthy, informed,
Out to them, accepted, love I've only dreamed of,
Smile, battle the pain together, finding happiness.
She moves out of the shadows a little more.
To Be Continued . . .
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 4:28 PM UTC
All I want for my Birthday is...
Went shopping with my daughter
To find a present for her niece.
And My Granddaughter...
What to get?
Checking out dolls,
So many pretty Barbies
In beautiful ball gowns
What about a game I ask...
Finally my daughter called
To ask her what she would like.
Let me add she is 6 years old
Her reply was
Mascara, an iPhone,
Monster High doll
And
Coffee....
WHAT!
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 7:14 PM UTC
We share blood you and I,
and have shared
golden pocketed memories, sticky ice-creamed fingers
back seats,smelly packs of cheese and onions crisps
and jokes about the two in the front arguing over directions,money- us.
Yet we couldn't be more polarized,
Your a young soul but your older,
you used to whisper scandalous grown -up things
and I would swallow your information as gospel.
Under sapphire skies,
I'd follow you around just wanting your attention
and I know now how annoying it must have been
to have a whiny little sister wanting you to play Barbies.
And I won't lie,
I love you most days and hate you the rest
for all those times you'd beat me up(really just a punch)
and pronounce me the Loch-ness monster and call me fat.
It'll always be Love/Hate with you and I
I'm the chalk and your the cheese
but you make me laugh until my sides ache
and I know you love telling me the news of your latest exploit.
There's a camaraderie well that implied,
I've got your back and you've got mine.
we table tennis tease but we both draw a line
and we won't cross it.
because we share blood you and I,
despite nurture over nature
or blood is thicker than water
know this big brother
I love you as a person.
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 5:28 PM UTC
On our knees, working the naked Ken
to mount the clueless Barbie, making
them moan, screaming, "O! O! O! O!"
Dumb toothsome puppets, self-satisfied,
bubble gum Corvette, her small *** huge knockers,
and nothing proven or dared, solving
bodies unlike those we pushed so hard against —
me and my Easy Bake, you and your erector set.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 2:16 AM UTC
I Liked Barbie, I Loved Barbies,
I Was A Little Boy Obsessed.
Barbie & Action Man Kept House,
Lovely Little Nuclear Family & The Teddy Bears Were The Kids.
I Tried To Get Barbie & Action Man To Get Along,
Barbie Was Sad Because Life Was All Wrong,
Action Man Was Mad Because Barbie Wasn't Strong,
The Teddy Bears Cried While Hearing Nighttimes Song.
Action Man Developed Issues With Substance,
Checked Into Rehab At Barbies Insistence,
Action Man Cheated & Formed A New Life With Persistence,
Barbie Took The Kids & There Wasn't Any Resistance.
The Kids Leaked Stuffing In A Crumbling Old Doll House,
Barbie Blamed Herself For Herself For The Actions Of A Mouse.
The Kids Learned To Stop Caring That Rat Man Was Gone,
Barbie Found Hope In Her Heart & Was Strong.
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 10:38 PM UTC
To the boy in my German class who critizised me for picking a male name instead of a female one.
I wonder how your head will ****
When you see your best friend Joey
Become Johanna
I wonder how your jaw will drop
When you see your son
Beg to be bought a dress
I wonder how your ears will suffer
When your daughter
Shows up at your home with her girlfriend
I wonder if you will care
You called me crazy
My name is Dirk
My name is Gender Roles
If you are born a female
I come with
Flowers
I come with
Barbies and pink accessories
I come with pink kitchen sets
and doll hair brushes and fake makeup
I come with pink
I come with pink
I come with pink
I come with pink
I come in fusha
I come in burgandy
I come in lilac
I come in white
For the added package
I come with liposuction
and days without food
I come with too tight clothes
and more labels than you can count
I come with kitchen jokes
I come with being judged if you
had ***
or
Haven't
But wait there's more
If you are male
I come with toy trucks
And remote controls
I come with not crying
I come with blue *****
And Sunday football games
And rough housing and be a man
Be a man
Be a man
Be a man
Be a man
I come in Testosterone black
I come in beaten up blue
I come in Grades don't matter green
I come in what're you looking at white
For the added package
I come with teasing
Required gym time
Peer preasure
Don't cry
I come with straightness
And close minded friends
I come with video games
I come with make the money
Pay for dinner
Pay for movies
Pay for living
Pay for squirming
I come with physical torture
Critizised
For having ***
or
Not having ***
My name is Gender roles and I come in a school room
My name is Izzie and I'm alive
My name is Christy and I'm crying
My name is Dirk and I am satisfied
My name is Gender roles
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 7:52 PM UTC
My childhood was a dream.
Filled with monsters, mayhem, and magic,
And long sunny days
That lasted forever.
Playing cops and robbers,
Barbies,
House,
Playing, playing, playing.
Isn’t it ironic?
Back then we wanted to grow up.
When I was a kid,
My sister was my other half.
Like two peas in a pod,
We were never apart.
We fought,
We fell,
We failed,
We grew up.
Together.
I miss
The playground.
And falling asleep in one place,
Waking up in another.
And splishing, and splashing, and squealing,
Through puddles in the rain.
We were monkeys
Climbing and climbing
But never falling.
Ok.
We fell sometimes.
But at least we knew
That whenever we fell
There was always someone there to catch us.
I hope
My childhood sticks in my brain
Like gum in my hair,
That one time in first grade.
I hope
I never forget that Christmas,
When we made so many gingerbread men,
There was almost a million.
I hope
I never forget my friends.
Imaginary and real life,
My pet fishies,
Or the things that scared me.
They let me know how far I’ve come,
Cause I’m not scared of them anymore.
I hope
That my house doesn’t forget me
Cause I will never forget my home.
I did all my growing up there.
Though I guess
I’m still not done.
I wonder if
I ever will be.
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 1:42 AM UTC