"marionette" poems
I know you.
Sitting behind a screen in your room,
Sipping in the shadows of a coffee shop.
iPhone, iPad, iAm "Anonymous".
The most dangerous word you can be labeled,
The most double-edged of weapons-
Anonymous.
You're never really as untraceable
As the cleared browser history says you are,
Never as untraceable as the chain of destruction you cause is traceable.
You're never really as invisible
As the checked box lets you think you are,
Never as invisible as the scars you direct a hand to make are visible.
One word can't be all that.
Anonymous can't be so dangerous.
Some clicks on a keyboard can't be so devastating.
There's a reason it used to be difficult to avoid responsibility.
Because responsibility for your words, for what you cause,
Is what allows you to see a few steps ahead.
Your signature is what allows you to learn from mistakes,
To vow after you've learned the hard way to think before you act.
To see that those words have two names attached to them now.
The writer, and the subject.
Two traceable, visible people.
Two hearts beating and breathing, now connected.
Anonymous constructs a wall between action and reaction.
It robs you of responsibility.
Yes, responsibility is a prized possession, there to teach and show.
Anonymous allows you to settle.
It robs you of the greater person you could become.
Yes, your future holds more than this, there beyond the wall of cyber bulling.
I hate that I was once Anonymous like you.
I hate that I unknowingly controlled the strings
Of a self-destructive marionette hand miles away.
But I don't hate you. Because I know you.
I know you are more than the mistakes you've made behind that screen.
I know you are more than Anonymous.
So prove it.
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 7:13 PM UTC
Tell me why it seems like the walls are closing in
Tell me why my hopes they're stretched far and thin
Tell me why my dreams still struggle in this fight
Tell me why every time I draw air but it feels so tight.
Tell me why in this turmoil my heart does wallow
Tell me why lifes' lessons by the heapfuls I choke to swallow
Tell me why I'm somewhat free but then again I am not
Tell me why I really do have but I haven't really got.
Tell me why I try to sleep many a restless night
Tell me why I am so afraid of many a fearful fright
Tell me why I still feel the way I have felt before
Tell me why I ask many questions which leaves me broken and sore.
Tell me why so much emotions run amok within me
Tell me why I look yet I do not really see
Tell me why despondence is back; it's here to haunt
Tell me why such uncertainties always beckons to taunt.
Tell me why I want more but I am quite contented
Tell me why I have to accept the path I've very much resented
Tell me why I already know but I still keep on asking
Tell me why it seems like the reasons are in every way lacking.
Tell me why I feel so happy but in fact I am so sad
Tell me why it all seems unfair but I have to be glad
Tell me why I found love in the most unfortunate circumstance
Tell me why to a mournful tune I am stuck in dance.
Tell me why my heart feels engorged but I can't release it all
Tell me why I am so scared but I would still want to fall
Tell me why I feel you close when you're farther than far
Tell me why it seems incredulous that we share the same star.
Tell me why I long to give you more when I can't this instant
Tell me why I can feel better but I seem so resistant
Tell me why sometimes I look up and curse at my luck
Tell me why I refuse to focus on courage that I really should pluck.
Tell me why I lay in bed dreaming of a place far away
Tell me why I find myself moping more and more each day
Tell me why I chose to be naive and in fate I do give trust
Tell me why time and time again it just gets ground to dust.
Tell me why I feel so beaten and weak when I should be strong
Tell me why I am so familiar in a place I don't belong
Tell me why I have to live with a mask on my face
Tell me why I feel like a marionette strung up by lace.
Tell me why I dug deep when these words make me cry
Tell me why the tears still trickle when my eyes are dry
Tell me why I share this when I know you would feel bad
Tell me why I would even spout the words that make you sad.
Tell me why these painful wounds I didn't choose to lick
Tell me why I didn't let them heal but instead I would pick
Tell me why I feel as though I am quite addicted
Tell me why it seems like I enjoy the dark I've inflicted.
Tell me why sometimes I question, the things you see in me
Tell me why you've said it many times but I don't really see
Tell me why I haven't drifted far when I should've a while ago
The reason is you; because you have chosen to love me.
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 8:30 PM UTC
I could tell you the exact day I became complacent
I can recall the way he parted his hair and the way he touched a steering wheel and the color of his eyes
And how he cared enough about me to make sure I didn't drink and drive
But not enough to stop mixing my drinks all night
And since I can't stand up for myself, he watched as I fell apart
I am a marionette with a broken string but **** he's a master in the art
Constantly moving me; bending my frame and pulling my wires
And keeping me onstage whenever he desires
But it's hard for me to play my part and keep up with my lines
When I come home smelling like a different cologne each night
When I am just an empty canister they keep bringing to their lips
Begging and pleading me to offer them something with purpose
But it's always the same story:
They fabricate me
I break and I bleed under their idea of self discovery
And my selfish idea of recovery
Out of every sweet name or ***** word they've ever called me
I think I've found that "Lonely" is my favorite thing to be
I haven't lit a cigarette in weeks, but tonight I'll light three;
One for him, one for me, and one for the person I swore I would never be
Listen;
My biggest flaw is that when I settled for feeling comfortable,
When I settled for what he told me I was
I never even bothered learning self-love
Jan 6, 2018
Jan 6, 2018 at 2:05 AM UTC
Hands
Eyes
Feet
God
Charade
Pink
King
Dress
Blessed
Make up
Pastels
Ponies
Hearts
Carts
Darts
Future
Born
Torn
Plain
Wrapped
Trapped
Ice
Wings
Strings
Scissors
"Fallen angel"
Silhouette
Marionette
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 9:44 PM UTC
My eyes
Have seen in these fifteen years of mine
More horrors than many in a hundred see.
I have seen grief, and bitterness, and pain.
You have given that to me.
That has been your gift.
My heart
Beats at ten thousand times its normal pace
For fear when I see you walk into the room
I know what’s coming next-
Onto the streets,
And into a stranger’s unforgiving arms.
My skin,
Littered with bruises you left,
Is a canvas for the horrifying picture
You wish to paint me into-
One where you are the puppet master
And I your marionette.
But I am only a child,
Not a vehicle for your twisted pleasure.
My body
Will not pay your bills.
Not after you left me with a child.
I wear loose clothes to hide her- it’s a girl, I think.
And I won’t let you take her away.
My feet
Will carry me far away from here,
As soon as I’ve scrounged up
Enough spare quarters, caught on the ***** concrete
You force me into walking every night,
I'll catch a bus or two away from here.
My dreams
Will not be broken.
I am strong.
On Thursday night, I’ll fly away from here.
And you’ll forget me
I mean nothing to you.
My captor,
Puppet master,
Force of evil,
You’ll find another.
I wish her fast escape.
I will be free.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 11:58 AM UTC
The Mind-Slaves
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking.***
Why do we treat Obedience with more reverence than we do Critical Thinking?
(CONTROL)
***Obedience is not a ******* acceptable substitute for Critical Thinking.***
Obedience is not inherently bad, but unquestioning Obedience is tantamount to Fascism.
To Terrorism. To Americanism. To Consumerism. To Militarism. To Racism. To Sexism.
Obedience can never, ever stand in place of Critical Thinking.
If you want to get immersed
in a true story:
live your own life.
That is, of course,
unless you've allowed it to be set up
in such a way
that it is no longer
a true story.
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not an acceptable ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
Obedience is not so much your friend as is Critical Thinking!
***Obedience is a ******* marionette string for those in power!***
***Obedience ***** up Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* virtue unless you're a Slave!***
***Obedience is not a ******* virtue unless you're a Servant!***
***Obedience is not a ******* virtue unless you're a Tyrant!***
***Obedience is not a ******* virtue unless you're a Fascist!***
***Obedience is not a ******* virtue unless you're a egocentric power-hungry ****
***Your Obedience is not equivalent to your ******* worth, nor is your ******* wealth.***
The number of people who idolize you is not a quantification of how good you are!
Obedience is a way to circumvent Critical Thinking!
Obedience is a way to usurp Critical Thinking!
Obedience stifles Critical Thinking!
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
***Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!***
Feb 2, 2013
Feb 2, 2013 at 4:29 PM UTC
photograph One:
i see you, and the first things i see are your dark eyes
you sit beside me with open hands and make me laugh over coffee.
photograph Two:
one night i notice your mouth. you haven't drank but i have.
still all i see are your eyes when you first lean in.
i'm aroused and utterly haunted.
photograph Three:
you're so pale i want to colour you in. i want to make you alive.
you're dancing so frenetically, my marionette man
and i can't tell who tugs the strings.
photograph Four:
It's after midnight and you've stormed from my house snarling
like a wolf waiting to die.
"i'm poison" you spit. "i'll poison you, too".
"you and me." i plead. "i won't run".
photograph Five:
it's a cloudy day. you tell me you love me without looking me in the eye.
photograph Six:
you're standing in the open doorway against winter wind
dragging a half-quit cigarette and i am hugging my knees on your couch
waiting for you to calm
our eyelashes smeared chilly with tears.
photograph Seven:
you are lying on the floor, heaving with sobs.
i am holding you as tight as i can because i don't know what to do
and i'm afraid if i let you go you will cremate in the heat of your darkness
already we are both husks.
photograph Eight:
we lie awake in your cold bed and we are strangers
you will not touch me and i feel naked.
photograph Nine:
i awoke at 4am from a dream of you that was a lie
many months after i fled from your ghost
and like an infected wound
it still throbs hotly that i could not save you
and that for so long i could not save myself from you
the dark-eyed boy with the angel tattoo
Mar 2, 2012
Mar 2, 2012 at 11:54 AM UTC
Marionette
She'll declare you lovely
And she'll clasp your hand and run you down the street
To the little coffee shop no one really sees
You will have coffee over a little chat
About how much she hates coffee
And she'll talk too much, and then none at all
She'll giggle and brush her 60s pin curls behind her ear
And her glistening eyes will watch you fall in love with her
And she'll have no idea
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 11:45 PM UTC
Snapped marionette
clings to the ceiling, watching.
Ragdoll under man.
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 3:27 PM UTC
Heavy head.
Heavy hands.
Heavy heart.
Through my worries it slinks in.
My hopes are beaten
To a thick dry pulp in my heart.
Dully, I sit heavy heavy.
Movement is all impossible.
I am a marionette with cut strings.
Rough and tattered curls.
Ripped and torn dress.
Stoic, so so stoic, yet searching.
Where is the light that once was?
Alone in this mire, I shed my tears.
Secluded and rotting in self pity.
There are no maps, no decisions.
I am lost without guidance
In this game of life limbo.
I don't know when I'll leave.
This is my own prison.
Dec 25, 2010
Dec 25, 2010 at 11:31 PM UTC
Time moves on and people revert back to their old ways leaving chaos in their wake.
Spoiling memories, past and future.
I am not a toy.
I can't be tossed about the room. I don't work on demand.
I am Pinocchio.
A Marionette without the strings.
Free to walk the world.
Free to sing.
Free to dance and move to the pace of my own drum.
I spoil no one.
I am me.
I am independent.
Stop trying to tug at non-existent Nylon strings because I will not be controlled.
I don't like to be ordered about.
Left feeling lonely and sad.
Used.
I do what I don't really want to do.
We fight on new levels each time we are together.
I cover up my tears and woes.
Put on a happy face.
Im sick of the stormy weather.
I break promises and I lie to protect crimes and sorrow.
I am a Monster.
Dec 31, 2009
Dec 31, 2009 at 6:11 AM UTC
Have you considered being a *** worker?
You have a body.
I know you never sleep there,
spend less time breathing than associating with your own ribcage.
You're an actress
no script, just a character summary.
Limp, age 12, non-verbal marionette.
*Snaps her strings when forced to dance.
Clings to the ceiling tiles, like the shadows she hallucinates.
Let's the puppet fall numb under strangers.
Ragdoll to be used for kindling.*
When you play your part
You'll inherit enough money to afford a studio apartment
in Washington, or Las Vegas; anywhere with men paid large enough salary to afford your vacant body,
three phone plans,
a hotel room for you to stay awake in
Listening to dull thuds against your wrongfully warm corpse
Invited hoping the stinging could form tendons
adhere together like rubber bands
Snap you back into your skin.
You cling helpless to the ceiling tiles
Watch the ragdoll make mistakes.
*"Have you considered being a *** worker?"*
A homeless woman asked me,
*"Unoccupied bodies should start charging rent.
Let a man who can afford it pay for utilities.
You might be homeless
but you won't be wasted space".*
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 1:56 PM UTC
Come one, come all,
To the strong mans downfall.
Cut the strings on the marionette,
Believe me, you won't soon forget
The haunting sound of the carousel
Or the staggering heights of the citadel.
A red balloon dancing perfectly in the pale gray sky.
A small child lets out a remorseful cry.
The clowns with their agonizing smiles,
Grab hold of your soul and change its style.
You've waited along time for this.
This frightening bliss of a midnight kiss,
And the familiarity of the moonlights whisper.
You've lost control of your juggling act
Prepare yourself for impact.
Watch out for where the sidewalk cracks,
Because everyone knows how that will end.
Come one, come all,
I've done it all
for you.
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 5:19 PM UTC
It's a heart on world with my sleeve steadily exposed
A life line on a call line, dial 888 to be controlled
Puppets on a string to compose this household
The happier we'll be the more we're enclosed
Smaller spaces to lengthen the gap
Encircling our inner self control
Consuming what's left of the demons
Trying to get a refund on our soul
Love changes colors like a rhyme
Smooth and easy
Eyes like the darkness of time
Slow and steady
Yet we're still not ready for the fight
Insanity walks through the door
And just when the time is right
Our beliefs slowly melt into the floor
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 3:42 AM UTC
Blackened tides crash down upon my shores
And I'm swept away by an opaque shape
Taking a form that I can see less and more
With each passing wave
The sun becoming a distended silhouette
Obscured by the disembodied figure
Taking me deeper
Tugging my heart strings like a marionette
I feel lighter and less real,
Then a surreal glow engulfs me
And I'm suddenly pulled from my puppetry
I feel the sun finally
And it's you
A beacon of light from the depths
An exquisite view
A soul with all the shattered pieces
That align perfectly with mine
Now that I've discovered what peace is
I'm enamored as our hearts intertwine
By some grand design you've made me better
Together we will shine, now and forever
Aug 10, 2021
Aug 10, 2021 at 4:53 AM UTC
Realizing this isn't a dream is what breaks my heart.
These things should only happen in nightmares -
Where I suddenly wake up with a start
and say 'Thank God it's only a Dream.'
But it's not. Fate is too cruel.
I was given a void that ***** my entire being.
A pawn fighting a queen. Am I that of a fool?
Or should I hope for another Spring?
A marionette by day and a ragged doll by night
Empty soul, cool eyes, a heart that stings,
Under the sun, A smile to make it all right,
At the end of the tunnel, will I ever see the light?
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 9:31 PM UTC
punk music playing in the basement
heavy bass vibrating the walls
bacardi in a coffee mug
******* on a tiny mirror
hands on my thighs, *******
the rush sets
hands in my hair
eyes rolling back
he ***** on my neck
i light a cigarette
"my room."
he pulls my strings like
a marionette.
i know this
exchange of goods
very well.
i take another
bump,
eyes widening,
i can finally bear to
see the world.
he eats my ***** and
i feel N O T H I N G.
i gag on his **** and cry.
he strangles me
punches my ****
my *** cheeks
my stomach
he's getting his money's worth
he starts ******* me
drunken noise outside the bedroom door
in perfect rhythm
with the bass
and the headboard
against the wall,
every stroke hurts
my whole body
a wound.
i think about
a distant city
skyscrapers towering
above me like
mountaintops,
somewhere under
lights and stars
where i am happy
to be alive,
anywhere
but here,
this place
where death lives
and waits to catch
it's prey.
he moans
thrusts
shivers
it's over
i wipe mascara tears
take another bump
take another swig
i light another cigarette
he leaves the room
without a word
i follow
two steps behind him
covered in bruises
hickies
marked used
marked invaluable
a group of men
shout names at me
i block it out,
i really don't care
anymore.
this body
was meant for this
this body
doesnt matter
this body
is for getting what
i want
this body
is tired
and sore.
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 3:55 PM UTC
heaven reflected
face to face
molten with light
and the heat of all living things
evening gulls
gathering, scattering, chatter-sing
lifted marionette wings
caught in the sway
resting in the rock
fly, fly away, fly away
Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 11:27 PM UTC
I wish it was easier for
people to forget, if things left their
mind as easy as they let
them in, tough skin
wouldn’t wear thin
as easy as it is right now,
my past is full of imperfections
and bad decisions, leaving unstitched
incisions beneath the brink of sanity,
but who’s isn’t? every time falsities
start, my mind races
with my heart to contemplations on
when to finish, they tattoo the past
of others on their insecurities,
fuelling the fire that burns a hole
into respect and reputation,
creating a vicious cycle
of revenge and envy,
each gossip verbally vomited
into naive ears pulls the marionette
strings of perception into the road normally
taken, two roads may have diverged
at a yellow wood, but when the ignorance
burns yellow to ash, the road less taken
seems blocked, so the next time you hear
something about another, don’t be too quick
spread the word, the game of
telephone can get a little distorted when
the next phone call
you get is that they
were found hanging from
a rope.
MJB
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 1:37 AM UTC
Ah, Pinocchio--povero burattino°--
Always in a scrape; always in a jam.
The irresponsible, wooden-headed numbskull
Couldn't help but fall for every scam.
A walking, talking stringless marionette,
Pinocchio really would have had it made
In a modest home with babbo°° Gepetto.
But, instead, the foolish youngster strayed.
Ignoring the advice of the talking cricket,
Pinocchio EVEN smashed it with a hammer.
That right there should have been a reason
To throw the little rascal in the slammer.
The Fox and the Cat had no trouble
Dissuading the puppet from going to school,
Thus involving him in a series of adventures
Which often made him look like a fool.
The Fairy tried to be a good influence,
But Pinocchio's lies caused his nose to grow.
Constantly ignoring responsibilities,
The misguided boy, suffered constant woe.
(Swindled of his money, hanged on a tree,
And saved just in the nick of time
From being eaten, Pinocchio had
Too many adventures to fit into this rhyme.)
Fleeing with his lazy school chum Lucignolo
To the Paese dei balocchi,°°° there Pinocc
Turned into a donkey. Of all his follies,
This one had to be a masterstroke.
Once again a puppet, Pinocchio was swallowed
By a giant Pesce-cane,°°°° and then guess what!
The foolish boy was finally reunited
With babbo Gepetto in the fish's huge gut.
NOT until Pinocchio thought about others
And proved he was an honest and caring boy
Did his fortune start to change for the better,
And the stringless puppet became the real McCoy.
Does Pinocchio by any chance remind you
Of any politicians out there at all
Who fail to listen to expert advice
And thumb their noses at common protocol?
And speaking of noses, we can also see
Politicians' noses grow as they tell lies.
Lying to themselves and to others as well
And ignoring our best interests and flouting compromise.
Such politicians--unlike Pinocchio--
Have strings to pull when performing for the masses.
The more they avoid solving REAL issues,
The more they end up looking like *****
They also love--these clever burattini--
To sell a bill of goods and promise many things.
But someone out there--or some corporation--
Is slyly and cleverly pulling their strings.
Do you ever wonder if these same politicians
Ever think about or care how you feel?
Will they eventually--as did Pinocchio--
Prove they have what it takes to be real?
°(burattino/i) - poor little puppet
°°(babbo) - dad(dy)
°°°(Paese dei balocchi) - Playland
°°°°(Pesce-cane) - shark
- by Bob B
Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 2:39 PM UTC
Alright Jezebel is that not who you are? How much of your soul are you going to sell? With your chest pushed high and your **** in the air. With the smile you bare and the wink you blink. The fruit for the trick to get their fix behind blind eyes. Your secrets hidden away through your faults beauty and enticement. A walk that attracts nothing but the **** You put your self on the proverbial block. Though on the outside you converted and claim outwardly to the king of kings God and Christ. Though believe like a Pharisee. A marionette innocents for all to see.
Yet even a Pharisee doesn't hold the many lies you've told. For even they are the best known hypocrites that Christ warned and spoke against. Telling everyone your married, or so you say with a bold face. Yet you go out at night to collect your lies by spreading your thighs for material and lust. Helping to destroy families to commit adultery with theirs and your own. You lost your Grace and the Holy Spirit depart. Now you gain worldly excitement and shame. Living your life amongst the dogs. In a fad life style fed to you. Taking it as wholesome, knowing better. So it is to be said your like a lost little Lam on your way to self destruction. Without a care of the afflictions. You allow yourself to be used like a Devils tool, yet tell yourself your not a toy.. May it go to show you are becoming Lucifer's proprietary embodiment. Only to think you have the upper hand.
Shown by your eyes that is a window to the soul exposing wickedness!
Though on the deep inside is there not yet another cloak?? Do you not cry at night with heavy sorrow when you look in the mirror for the truth to be whole and despise the girl you have yet let blossom to become the ultimate woman that is there. Pretending to be some one your not. So you are a lantern in need of a new candle wanting to be rekindled. How cold you must be to have so many layers. But that's what you get when you become a player. A sweet and sour flavor. You say "Don't Hate!" Though to walk up right on the path of truth would attract in your self a better person. Why not accept your self for the real you. The one mistakenly hidden so deep inside. Is that not who you are? Instead you bed with the heartless desires you give your self too to become a trophy. The mold you have created of yourself only mocks at the real you. The inner you fading and becoming transparent. Now with out a care you have become fake, vile and foul. Yes he who has no sin cast the first stone. So it should not be thrown. Heavenly Father I pray for her!!!
Jul 13, 2011
Jul 13, 2011 at 2:17 PM UTC
*I've been waiting
For a great comeback.
But you cannot supply me
With the truth I deserve.
Therefore, I
will make you a marionette-
controlled by my hands,
and make you dance
For my entertainment
and for my sake;
Because you cannot
amuse me just by
making yourself look pitiful.
Do not try masking
Things that's true
Because I know
What's been happening.
Do not even try masking
And hiding behind
switching topics and
Frequent lies.
I cannot tolerate
these things that you do.
So, I am here to pull your strings
And make you dance for all the*
Lost trust
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 11:18 PM UTC
Puppet, puppet,
dance to my whim.
Squirm under string,
and bend to my will.
Puppet, puppet,
hear my call.
Listen only to my word,
and never anything more.
Puppet, puppet,
ever breaking.
Your strings will snap,
and you will fall.
Puppet, puppet,
where have you gone?
Who am I
without my marionette?
Puppeteer, puppeteer,
where did you
get your strings?
who do you dance for?
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 8:29 PM UTC
Beware the sour duchess with her cobra tongue,
Come marionette, fall at her feet, the carnal cherry flower maid,
She hides in the devil's gap tooth,
In his pinstriped pockets full of rosary beads and candlewick,
She steals the heart-shaped cosmic superstition,
Demure with dulcet debauchery,
Forged in a grand dalliance of coquettish repulsion with his valiant renegades,
Vagrant of prayer and petrichor,
Buying fancy for the maudlin dolls, the ethereal actresses nursed to betray,
These childish ordeals rosy with youth,
Turn to lilac smitten executioner under the glass of a silver boulevard,
She writes me foolish want in this presence of gods and criminals,
Sell me your kisses and fingertips bruise my aura with your architecture,
Sleeping sound in your dominion the sheets are always warm.
Nov 5, 2016
Nov 5, 2016 at 5:31 PM UTC