Once upon a time... not too long ago
You told me that you loved me and that you would go and help me grow
I was but a block of wood, you carved delicately
Creating me into a doll ever so elegantly
Painting precise intricate details eloquently
Doe eyes, rosy cheeks, sun-kissed lips; your compassion showed evidently
Sunrise after sundown, my love grew for you genuinely
Months had passed, and seasons followed
Blissful memories, euphoric moments, fleeting hours; borrowed
Left with a barren soul, bone dried driftwood, abandoned; hollowed
Your neglected Marionette, once glowed, now dull with dust
Loveless wooden puppet fading, metal joints rust
Instead of adoration reflected in painted eyes, it’s now mistrust
Yet still bound to you by more than just these strings and rings
I’m chained to you, but not by mere material things
I would have done anything with just a twist of your wrist because you used to adore me
Marionette and her Manipulator; a Stockholm Syndrome-like love story
A classic literary tale that’s lost all its profound romantic glory
A Puppeteer wrenching till I’m dangling upon severed wires
Strung along filthy pavements, dropped into grimy potholes; I’m tired
Blood sweat and tears, love became my biggest fear
When I needed and longed for you; you’d not appear
Every single emotion to the smallest detail; controlled
Each slight movement without exception foretold
A Ventriloquist voicing every word caught in my throat
Your time of day to me you once did devote
With roughened yet soft hands holding my body close
Crooked smile spreading upon lips as you gently tap my nose
Soothing fingers running through my hair; it was me you chose
Your passion drained out like the now dried bouquet of roses; romantic doses
An author of the finest of fictions; poems, and letters to me once composed
Now I hang in your hands upon limp worn out strings, ready to dispose
Time and actions have shown the truth behind your spoken words; exposed
And it blows air kisses of nothingness
And you know what I’m tired of this, Your High-Neglectfulness
What used to be a loving hand became a hateful rod
And you still think you’re some kind of god, but you’re just a facade
I’ve seen the way you caress those other dolls; infidelity not discreet
Honeyed words slip off those lips, drip; a game you cheat
All tricks and no treat, candy wrapped lies that tasted too sweet
Deliciously virulent deception rolling off that tongue of yours
Bending to your wires have given me enough torturous sores
How I wish I had been created with wings instead of decaying strings
And the strife it brings like squeaky swings that just keep squeaking, creaking
A forsaken Marionette who’s every move was to please you
Trapped in this dollhouse zoo, with no appreciation in view
So then I’ll sing, I’ve got no strings to hold me down
To force my smile and push me to the ground
I had strings, but I said no more
I cut these strings and stepped out the door
You’re no longer my master, nor my sky
I’ll fly without you and my oh my
More so than Pinnochio I cannot tell a lie
Even my wooden wings can fly

We who are the dancing, we who are the free
The laughing singing multitude that bears the song of the earth on our tongues,
That bear the soul of the earth with our hearts
And march to the melody of our own invisible song
We whose anthem christens the sky with the fullness of our boldness, of our voices,
The children born of the song of the spheres
That align with the stars and swim in the moonlight of forgotten gods
And pray to the miracle of the clouds, painted and forever traveling
We who are the awakened many
The harbingers of forgiveness
That do not shudder in the glorious face of eternity
And who wash away our tears along with our fathers’ past sins
We who were muted, who were muzzled and mauve
The silenced, shackled dreamers once hooked to the drug of complacency but
That chose to follow fate’s thread out of Asterion’s dwelling
And wander forever onward into the beautiful unknown

• We declare a peace that consumes us, white hot and burning
Without fear of our waxy wings soaring our spirits into the glowing sky
But with the joys of love and voices lifted in song
• We declare an equalness between ourselves, springy and pure
Without angst over our mortal trappings
But with the knowing in our stardust selves
• We declare a justice pure and blind
Without deafness or a commitment to her own fear,
But with a feather-soft understanding to temper her wrath
• We declare a world clean of human spite and neglectfulness
Without revolting sedation or penurious derision
But with the heart-worn life and long-wrinkled smiles of deep-rooted love
• We declare a dedication to truth and knowledge
Without the cowardice of a narrow, a cramped, a self-hurt mind
But with the mantle of honesty;
A mantle of honesty;

it makes us light as the flutters of butterflies

is it something in the water?
or the way they’re taught to win?
“if she tells you no, keep trying.”
as if love is a door
that needs to be kicked in.
even my father
with his anger
loud, burning, and red.
as well as my brothers
one who inherited my father’s anger
and the other
who thinks **** jokes are funny.
and the boys i grow to love
with gentle hands
and painful ignorance
they are all evil in some way.
not always with cruel intentions
but with neglectfulness.
in making promises like they’re disposable.
in the way they leave
without calling it leaving.
i used to think it was just my bad luck
how they are raised
how they are forgiven
or how they aren’t
how they are never told they’ve hurt someone
until she tells them.
until she weeps before their eyes.
and asks them what she did wrong.