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"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.
0
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 7:13 PM UTC
Dear Anonymous, I know you.
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.
Continue reading...
38
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.
0
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 8:30 PM UTC
Digging Deep
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.
Continue reading...
52
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
0
Jan 6, 2018
Jan 6, 2018 at 2:05 AM UTC
to be honest you were always mediocre to me
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
0
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 9:44 PM UTC
Marionette, Part II
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.
0
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 11:58 AM UTC
untitled- child *** trafficking perspective poem
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!***
0
Feb 2, 2013
Feb 2, 2013 at 4:29 PM UTC
Die Sinn-Sklaven
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!***
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67
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
0
Mar 2, 2012
Mar 2, 2012 at 11:54 AM UTC
bipolaroid pictures
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
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38
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
0
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 11:45 PM UTC
Marionette
Snapped marionette clings to the ceiling, watching. Ragdoll under man.
0
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 3:27 PM UTC
Dissociation Haiku
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.
0
Dec 25, 2010
Dec 25, 2010 at 11:31 PM UTC
Selfish Selflessness
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.
0
Dec 31, 2009
Dec 31, 2009 at 6:11 AM UTC
Internal Conflict with External Conflicts.
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".*
0
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 1:56 PM UTC
Have you considered being a *** worker? (Rough Original edit)
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.
0
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 5:19 PM UTC
Carnival
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
0
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 3:42 AM UTC
Marionette Family Portrait
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
0
Aug 10, 2021
Aug 10, 2021 at 4:53 AM UTC
BLOSSOMING **A Birthday Poem For DaSH**
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?
0
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 9:31 PM UTC
Broken Doll
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.
0
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 3:55 PM UTC
2.14.2017 / word salad
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
0
Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 11:27 PM UTC
sunset, high tide
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
0
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 1:37 AM UTC
Bad Decisions Left Unforgotten°
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
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Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 2:39 PM UTC
Ah, Pinocchio!
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
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61
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!!!
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Jul 13, 2011
Jul 13, 2011 at 2:17 PM UTC
Jezebel
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!!!
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4
*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
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May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 11:18 PM UTC
Marionette
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?
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Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 8:29 PM UTC
Puppeteer
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.
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Nov 5, 2016
Nov 5, 2016 at 5:31 PM UTC
LILITH