"dolled" poems
Even the idea was worthy of a fight
and all too much preparation.
We dolled ourselves up for alienation,
even though the faces present
were so familiar and etched into memory.
Who are you Mr.Cool?
If that is your real name.
Whiskey breath and filterless smokes
only impresses the girls in the movies,
with scripts written by clueless men
like you, who can't supply injury
so they bring only insult.
You are a secretary bird,
a mime, and the copycat kid.
Trying to be a bad boy and hide
amongst the spoiled brats you claim.
Keep on burrowing and severing ties,
ravishing resources leads to ruin.
You say you've heard rumors?
Well, I've heard facts.
I've seen facts!
Your parasitic disguise will crumble
under the weight of your genuinely selfish persona.
While the company I keep will only know
the side you wished to reveal
in front of all the pretty boys and girls.
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 12:04 PM UTC
I've been taken advantage of.
I've been lied to a thousand times.
My mind is awfully broken now,
Adn my body is riddled with lines.
I can't believe you did this to me
After you said you loved me.
In the end, it was just a trap,
And the ransom was my sanity.
I made myself pretty for you,
Dolled up with bows and paint.
It was never good enough though.
You stole more of me every day.
I tore myself apart because
I couldn't be enough.
Even then you yelled at me
"Get over it.. Life is tough"
You never believed me when I said
A thing you didn't like.
I told you I hated you in my life
Always feeding me molten lies.
Even then, you pushed me away
And tore me limb from limb.
Everything I did to myself
Was caused by you, mum, not him.
Jul 5, 2021
Jul 5, 2021 at 2:39 PM UTC
I’m sporting this new lipstick
it won’t fade, smudge or smear
I’ll be lucky if it wears off this year.
I’ve got this new eyeliner that’s like
a luxurious, glittering, penciled tattoo
Leong asked, “How do you get it off you?”
I unpacked these chemical wonders
to see if they’ve lost their luster
by being neglected since last summer.
When you study too much, you feel pent-up,
so my compadres and I chose to get dolled-up,
rolling-up to dinner, like beauty queens on parade,
and not just sophomore scrubs trying to make the grade.
Dec 18, 2022
Dec 18, 2022 at 9:07 AM UTC
They say girls like something shiny
And that may very well be true
Bigger is better but I'll take tiny
No matter the size I'll make do
Of course I have my favorites
Or those meant for special occasions
Getting dolled up I want to savor it
Adorning myself prematurely for my sins
Perhaps they get jealous of each other
So maybe I'll take them all out for display
They sparkle perfectly making me stutter
Stroking each longingly before we play
Sep 14, 2021
Sep 14, 2021 at 12:38 AM UTC
Ghost Relics
Downtown,
where Main intersects Main
you'll see the last living tissue
of a breathing bazaar.
They weighed down her chest with bricks and girders.
It's a wonder she breathes at all.
-
Wander too far in any direction
and you're sure to see the husks
of once proud and bustling businesses.
Abandoned sanctums of mortar and majesty.
Scars of the Midwest etched as constants in our mind.
Dusty and silent since the cradle.
-
The theaters are bedeviled with dolled up haunts
who just wandered over from Greenwood to catch the matinee.
Management still leaves the lights on for kicks after hours
to throw off their sleep schedules while they wait for the feature to start.
Up all night, sleep all day; they read by neon and slumber under Sol.
Here I am, left lounging in The Devil's Chair. Crickets keep quavering.
-
Underneath the Franklin Street overpass sleeps a family bound by naught.
They watch in dawn's light as the few pedestrian that traverse Cerro Gordo
advert their eyes as some sort of silent symbol of respect for their situation.
It's as if the very stare of a privileged man could drain 'til depleted.
They never ask for anything, they just wade it out and listen to
the cars overhead, the train-clock's trumpet, and the heartbeats in between.
-
Leaks are patched, potholes filled, and yet
we're still loosing blood; becoming beguiled.
So many stray cats in the civilian savanna,
aimlessly seeking names and second chances.
"This premises is under police video surveillance" -
hanging like ornaments from streetlamp poles.
-
Guarding the gates
of a dwindling dominion,
as the armies of Union and Grand
wait in their camps
for the rust to take hold
of her iron veins.
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 12:52 AM UTC
even teddy said i got the sickest tricks brah.
like my abilities source from some kinda legendary liquid
/ praise the lord /
monster energy should sponsor me.
a kickflip over the king’s *** hole
& a halfcab for the looky-loos.
i feel so tall when i climb that heap of asphalt trimmings
& see clear from the water tower to the bluffs.
gimme a good day, any day at the bluffs,
bottlerockets & girly birds.
her body brings a swarm of worms.
decomp,
said the f.b.i. men one by one with tweezers.
not quite the homecoming queen, still
wrapped in plastic.
look up.
see that great mess of wires, nest of powerlines and owl bones?
it crackles and croons its electro-spectral purr
all night and day.
new neck tat &
cody spends his paycheck on a crossbow.
we target practice on a bull skull.
wet cigarettes and turpentine-soaked socks for a good huff
in the dry of the roofline as it dumps.
there’s that little boy in a ghost mask again, tap-dancing
in puddles below the streetlamp,
& oversized shoes.
his grandmoms always be watchin’ from the window.
[whispers] she’s teaching him magic.
lucky unit 19: where our young dead damsel once dolled
herself up, you see
men and headlights would roll thru thrice nightly,
maybe more.
& i remember her punch red lips &
big whicker hat; while she weeded and watered her garden of begonias.
the sheriff’s deputy, hart? hicks? hogan? well he loved her a bunch.
stole her clothes in the middle of the night,
& sat beside the river sobbing into clumped fists
of bra and blouse.
i bought ******* from that guy once or twice.
harold? howard?
guess who showed his face today?
josiah, from unit 08.
since the incident with molly’s beagle, he’s been rarely seen.
took a bee line straight for the mailbox.
a package. a prize. a decoder ring/secret map sweepstakes
to be seen and deciphered.
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 1:44 AM UTC
“You’re single because you’re single. It’s not because you texted too much or too little or waited 33 minutes to respond because he took 23. It’s not because you met up with your ex that night at 5 a.m. that no one knows about, or because you kissed another boy after a date with a loser.
You’re not single because you spit food on that date or tripped coming out the the movie theatre. You’re not single because you hurt your first boyfriend really badly when you were 15 or because you have yet, to this day, to apologize. It’s not because you were secretly jealous when your friend got a boyfriend or that a guy you dated for two months now has a really cute girlfriend and looks really happy. And you’re happy for him. But still ill that he found someone before you.
You’re not single because you slept with your ex boyfriend. You’re not single because half the world found out when you didn’t even want to remember it yourself. You’re not single because you think the guy your friend wants to hook you up with is ugly or not tall enough. It’s not because you’re not willing to put up with someone who doesn’t brush their teeth on a regular basis.
You’re not single because your standards are too high. Good for you for having standards. It’s not because you didn’t like that really, really good guy who wanted to take you on a date and you just weren’t feeling it. And it’s not because you like to wear pajama pants as soon as you get home and wash all the makeup off your face. You’re not single because you didn’t learn enough from the past or would rather chill on a Friday night with your blanket and a cold beer than shower, get ready, and go out. You’re not single because something is wrong with you.
You are single because you are single. It’s really as simple as that. You haven’t made the connection with another heart yet. You can get dolled up, dress cute, cut your hair, dye your hair, tweeze your eyebrows, put on lipstick and you may still. be. single. You can go out to a bar hoping to meet the love of your life and not find a **** one in the place attractive. And it’s going to remain that way until it’s time for you to find one. Stop hoping for it. Start living the life that you do have instead of wishing for things that you don’t have. There will come a time you’ll meet a boy and you’ll have to give up some of this single freedom you currently have. Start being more thankful. Start doing that now.”
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 12:29 PM UTC
-arriving at eglington west station-
there's the fragrance drifting off
of her shoulders
as she checks her reflection
on smartphone mirror app,
floral pattern matching the
bright of her nails,
the sun shining onto sequined flats
that show no wear.
-glencairn, glencairn station-
there's her youth indicated by
backpack, baseball cap,
and conversation subject matter
discussing video game system merit,
there's the hand me down excitement
of muddy knees and torn jeans,
-arriving at lawrence west station-
each millimetre contributing to grimace,
beard whisker, wrinkle stationed
to the sides of each of his eyes,
weary traveller, seemingly ignoring
everyone with grocery bag
occupying chair like child,
-Yorkdale, Yorkdale station-
we used to weave through these crowds
and people watch together,
and the people would watch us,
young love, so simple,
oblivious to stage,
fingers interlocked, blocking
crowds from passing by,
there was the taste of strawberry
banana smoothie, freshly squeezed,
on your lips, we'd race up
escalators, only to circle
back down, we'd find the nook
of book store, to steal a moment,
you'd ignite, ignoring the clatter
of barrista, starbucks adjacent,
and there would walk by or sit
dolled up princess,
adolescent tomboy,
aging cantankerous senior,
these faces haven't changed
as much as ours have.
-please stand clear of the doors-
Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 1:12 AM UTC
He's the dagger
twisted in my gut,
all the pretty words
dolled up with a
smile that is anything
but pure or true.
He's a spicy treat,
when all I'm looking for
is something sweet.
Perhaps it's wrong of
me, to search for love
in eyes that wander so
far I have to make
maps of their journey.
He has me falling
from the tallest crevices
with promises to catch
me with arms that are
already holding another.
He's a lost cause,
a candle blown out,
the stolen kiss that
was never returned.
But I'd bet all my
money on him within
a heartbeat if he said
he felt even a mere
shadow of what I did.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 3:36 PM UTC
Baby-dolled eyes,
and glamor velvet
encircles
with a cruel femininity;
the darkest pin-up
of your
diamond-dazzled
dreams always takes
it up a notch!
It’s all burlesque
and whispers
when you come into her
world of mirrored
desire that
plays just behind
her lips;
that dances just behind
her rhinestone mask.
The vampiress of
merlot, cigarettes,
and lace
always remembers
her prey;
a black-widow’s
striptease, cold
and calculated.
Again, she delights
in the fact
that she has broken
another man
she invited
in to her ruthless
masquerade.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 1:05 PM UTC
We mill around
Just walk and talk
Meet and greet
And "I miss you!"
Hugged each other
for much too long
Overlooking the elephant in the room.
Pictures shared
Hellos, goodbyes
"Oh dear, I love you so!"
We laugh and cry
Avoid closed eyes
And ignore the elephant in the room.
Groups together
Sharing, staring
Forgetting why they came
Push it back
And out of their minds
Just forget the elephant in the room.
The reunion goes
Just well as planned
Cards and flowers
All dolled out
Show your respect
And pay your dues
All because of the elephant in the room.
Walk out in step
A pretty little line
With tissues and people in tow
A reality check
For the comfortable ones
By yours truly, the elephant in the room.
Sick of flowers
Of hugs and sorry,
Don't forget the pity, too
A little reunion
For the ignorant ones
Who are too scared of the elephant in the room.
Come home sick
Empty and shallow
Shaken and rocked to the core
Left too soon
Well- you did, not them
It's just that dead body in the room.
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 3:42 PM UTC
I get dolled up
For no good reason.
Hair and makeup
It's that season.
To get dolled up
With no where to go.
No one wants to party or hang out.
So I'm stuck, dolled up, alone.
What a doll face I have
So pale with light freckling.
Pursed lips, pink tint
Bright eyes, sparkling.
A cute curvy doll.
With dark chestnut above
Graced with a pretty face
That no one will love
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 11:27 AM UTC
I wrote you a love letter
It was all dolled up
Pretty words to
make you fall in love
Some parts dangled
With the charm of
golden bling
Then another part
you could smell
the lather of my skin
But I didn't stop there
I conjured up cupid
Then wrote your name
in blood and burnt it
Placed the ashes in a honey jar
with lavender and rose
Whispered your name 69 times
under a blue red moon
Now
I watch you in my crystal ball
and wait for you to come to me
Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 8:20 PM UTC
I'll be at the ball in my tutu and fishnets
While I idolize the girls with the long hair and dresses
The money thrown at them by loving parents
While my outfit is made up of spare change and short tresses
But I'll wear my mohawk high because even though
I look out of place and not as royal as you
I am me and true to my name
While you are just the same ******* dolled up
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 5:57 AM UTC
Forgive me father for I have sinned.
This here is my confession...
Today a man left home,
spent countless hours on the road,
and wound up where he meant to go.
A life of service is what he chose.
A respectable career is what we're told.
But father,
this man of honor,
is out romancing dolled up daughters,
while his girlfriend at home is left to wonder,
if distance really makes the heart grow fonder.
He doesn't worry, he'll always have her.
His back up option, his second choice.
He calls, but not to hear her voice.
She's something to play with, just one of his toys.
Something to brag about back home with his boys.
A good time to be had before he deploys.
They both knew that it wasn't wise,
to sneak her out and pick her up for 2am rides,
all their time spent in-between her thighs,
and so they made a compromise.
He'd have her for dessert, while his girlfriend ate lies.
And this girl, she thought she knew,
the extent to which she was being used,
thought she was just using him too,
but since he's been gone, she's just been confused.
These feelings she has can't be refused,
but now she has nothing left to lose.
She's coming clean, no secrets.
What's done is done, no more regrets.
Has a lot on her conscience she needs to confess.
She's not religious, doesn't believe in that,
but she prays after this,
his girlfriend won't love him any less.
That sailor's about to be in distress.
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 5:27 PM UTC
I've always been wary--
and celebrated my potential
Betrayal
and
Certain
death(.) (oh)
At The Juice Joint.
All wet. (incorrrr
--ect.)
Applesauce. (non
sense.)
All dolled up. Showed off my
Gams
And Big Jazz
(eyes).
Wanted to get spifflicated with some
Dolls
and
Jellybeans.
...my fella.
?
Didn't have enough clams.
Any of us.
We
're the new
Lost
...generation.
I thought I'd keep the bank open,
but
interest wasn't given
Cash or Check:
didn't really matter.
Might've been
the
cat
's
meeeeeow.
And
how.
Ahhhhh...
we all had our glad rags on.
the Daddies hit on all sixes.
Let's get ZOZZLED on some
jag juice,
dewdropper.
Deeeeeewdropper. ~errrrrrrrr.....
Though giggle juice is more apt
...for me.
Leave the Mrs. Grundys at home...no fire extinguishers allowed.
How ironic.
You were the extinguisher.
Bring Your Own Knife
, we said.
It's a Stabbing Party
, we said.
I didn't want to handcuff you. Didn't want to exchange manacles.
("No, I'm no one's Wife, but OHHHHH, I love my Life.")
I percolate.
I percolate.
I percolate.
I'm not your quiff.
...not your sheba...or a vamp.
Just admire my
chassis
if you will.
they
all
do
The engine'll purr
for you,
~~if you turn the keys just so
Everything was
Copacetic.
Copacetic...
For a time.
(get'hotget'hot!)
Caesar's here.
Hussssshhhhhhhh...
...speak
~~eeeeeaaaaassssyyyyy.
And then I realized.
I'm tired of being Caesar
( . )
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 7:32 PM UTC
I found
black dots of mascara falling off your eyelashes today
you’re still perfect
no matter how many times you take the same picture
in the same room
with the same perfectly dolled
face
no matter how dark the sky is behind you
the beauty rays of light
illuminate
your scrumptious lips
May 20, 2025
May 20, 2025 at 3:56 PM UTC
Words, once obedient servants
Now claim suzerainty over ideas.
The age of meaningful verse has yielded
To gobbledygook.
Poetry, a grey mist half-understood
Through which I stumble blindly,
A mirage I chase through the sands...
The wells of creativity run dry.
Neither outpourings of emotion nor tender murmurs;
Mere craftsmanship remains.
Lines dolled up in ****** baubles
Literary ****** soliciting passing readers,
Fireflies, impotent
In the face of the darkness within.
The autumn harvest of verbosity is ripe
For the scythe of the Grim Reaper
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 1:02 PM UTC
Over the holidays, I was watching Lisa’s sister little Leeza, she’s 14.
She has a rebellious fashion sense and a joyful innocence.
She’s still fearless too, and on-God, I hope she never loses that.
Too soon though—the disco’s coming to town—the world’s coming for her. It’s the same for all of us, I suppose, but in Lisa and my cases, covid shut it all down.
It’s a rite of passage—the shoes, the bodycon dresses and the makeup. Those carry negative connotations, I get it, but there’s an excitement too, about finally getting to dress like an adult—a woman—in one of those bodycon, cut-out dresses.
I know the pressures on women and their bodies, but at her age, it's not all stress, cattiness and comparisons—it’s just innocent teen fun. She and her posse can take hours just dressing and doing their make-up—together. It’s probably the best part of their night.
Leeza’s dad (Michael) saw the little group of teens, all dolled-up and launched, like a SpaceX Starship. Pacing the living room, he quietly opined to Karen (her mom), “I don’t want her going out dressed like that.”
Karen was right there with him to cool things down, “No, *** at her age, it’s about self-expression, learning and girl bonding—these connections are really important in the girl-world.”
I’m not worried about Leeza’s physical safety. These girls are watched over and gently curated. Their every movement is orchestrated and security escorted—hell, Hamas couldn’t get to them—much less some gropey boy.
There’s just this new awareness these days of how unhappy some people are—and a lot of them are teen girls. I wouldn’t want to see Leeza mired in the sad, brain-draining social media pressure and self-esteem traps.
Teenhood is scary—I was feelin’ positively parental.
Then I looked at Lisa, and I was reminded that they’ve done all this before, and she has a big-sister, role-model too.
.
.
Songs for this:
Good Time Girl (feat. Charlie Barker) by Sofi Tukker
Dance To This (feat. Ariana Grande) by Troye Sivan
Jan 23, 2025
Jan 23, 2025 at 11:12 AM UTC
THE FINE cloth of your love might be a fabric of Egypt,
Something Sinbad, the sailor, took away from robbers,
Something a traveler with plenty of money might pick up
And bring home and stick on the walls and say:
"There's a little thing made a hit with me
When I was in Cairo-I think I must see Cairo again some day."
So there are cornice manufacturers, chewing gum kings,
Young Napoleons who corner eggs or corner cheese,
Phenoms looking for more worlds to corner,
And still other phenoms who lard themselves in
And make a killing in steel, copper, permanganese,
And they say to random friends in for a call:
"Have you had a look at my wife? Here she is.
Haven't I got her dolled up for fair?"
O-ee! the fine cloth of your love might be a fabric of Egypt.
1.6k
I wanted to give you my all
But whats the point if im just gana fall
Thers a side of me you'll probably never know
Maybe its best it we take it slow
Because theres things you leave unsaid
Leading to ******** in my head
Why does everything feel so wrong
**** it ill take a couple of hits from this ****
On weekends ill take a night off with my ladys
Now im all dolled up and suddently im your baby
But when i needed my man you werent around
No time for sorry sssh i dont want to hear a sound
Cuz you keep feeding me these lies
Same old **** like all these other guys
Ever heard you cant play a player
This game is too easy you ****** make me gayer
Jun 7, 2012
Jun 7, 2012 at 11:27 AM UTC
after 1 or (two) drinks and one (2) many glances into your eyes
kissing my neck feels less like
a compromise; feels less like an uncorked
bottle of half-priced lies, feels less
grimy, no longer a cheap disguise
for a dolled-up girl with one (2) many drinks
who can't stop looking
in your eyes.
Nov 24, 2017
Nov 24, 2017 at 11:40 PM UTC
I think I found myself lost, maybe.
You're just a girl...yes a lady.
You just were around me and
I felt the hairs stand on end.
Heart beating quickly.
I the pretty dolled up one,
I lost all my self control
I said I loved you and...
Why? You for such a simple cute girl, a lady,
"Not in blue-dressed in pink,"
Could have such huge boyish brown eyes,
Yours was short raven hair, "or like a wildcat" I think,
It grows now full all around your sweater.
I am of the impression that I could fall
Into them all, and be swept away a feather.
Yes I fell, I was "mad idiot" and I lost,
Just to a simple short girl,
With colorful beads in lace,
You could hold me in your embrace,
So much where my heart belongs.
And one like lightning could strike me,
Just you...being so very wild...so strong...
May 19, 2022
May 19, 2022 at 3:00 AM UTC
It’s been two decades and I’m still sweating out this fever
My eyes haven’t stopped watering since my family tree fell over,
branch by branch we collapsed into the river,
rushing faster and faster to mutually assured destruction,
no one is getting out alive here
No one is getting out alive here in this world,
so we might as well get it while the going is going because one day the going is going to stop and we’ll be left holding on to as much as we can,
We’ll feel so sorry for ourselves then
I’ve walked with snakes on my shoulders for as long as I can remember,
All my hearing has amounted to hisses,
and all of my bones have broken to bend and expand to hold all of the feelings I’ve eaten
Made love with the ****** and prayed to every angel I’ve seen in my paralysis,
In my dreams I see flowers,
Red like blood,
but clean like a mended heart,
Slowly but surely I’ll likely tear myself apart
But I like it like this,
It gives me a reason to wonder,
and wander,
So I’ll continue to wonder,
and wander
We all just drink to get drunk,
We’re all just ghosts without a house to haunt,
I’ve been feeling this sickness creep up into my throat,
and it’s been drying to get out, and I think I’ll let it
I’m still learning what falling in love feels like,
Still coming to grips with realities that don’t involve bruised eyelids and unforgivable I told you so’s,
Sometimes it feels like I’m coming to the end of my rope but then it frays all over again and I’m stuck trying to wind it back up,
How selfish to think I can fix something that’s too broken
Cut to my grandmother getting dolled up for her closeup because the church taught her how to become her own messiah, now she doesn’t know how to love the right way,
I’m starting to think that none of us do
I’m starting to run with the wolves,
The moon speaks in tongues to me,
I keep asking her to take me back where I belong,
Every painting hanging in my room is blank,
Blank and powerful,
but afraid,
I’m starting to think we all are
I’ve been sweating everything out,
It’s taking longer than I want it to
I just hope that by the time I’m laying on my deathbed,
I’ll be as dry as this all bled me
May 7, 2018
May 7, 2018 at 7:30 PM UTC