Yes, I am Proud of My Dolls
She lined up the family of life-like dolls on an afghan covered sofa and stood back to admire her work. There was the Mama dressed up in her ‘going to church’ outfit wearing her ugly comfort shoes. Papa was scowling, holding his briefcase in front of him as if to ward off bothersome children. The little flaxen haired doll, Benny, was holding his arm back as if to throw a baseball. Beautiful little Jenny was wearing her pink smocked party dress and black patent leather shoes.
She noticed their clothes were getting a little rumpled, so she’d have to wash and iron them. Their heads were beginning to loll on their chests so she planned to reinforce them with rods to stand straight.
Oh yes, she was proud of her little tableau of dolls. But what was she going to do about that rotten smell emanating from their bodies?
Up
Up, up and away I go
To this heavenly world I say hello
Floating amongst the stars and the sky
Sprinkled with silver, swirling with dye
When is it not a sight for sore eyes?
These beautiful, blended, blueberry skies
They look like gleaming, widespread smiles
Welcoming me back they heave a sigh,
‘You’re back!’ they say
‘No need to be shy!’
But even though its all a pretty lie
That I just can’t help but buy,
I’m still lost in that incredible high,
Far from the world, away for tonight.
Caught
The sun may hide, but she no longer has this luxury. She pulls herself up, muscles trembling. The rocky cliff has left her fingers raw. Below roar the billowing waves, each rise a memory, each fall a forgotten hurt. She leaves them behind, as she promised herself, she would. At last, she spreads her tired arms, her wish reaching for the blind skies above. The sky remains closed, as her shackles tear her down.
up
i blow up,
dynamite lit by
a dry match.
why
do i explode
at the tiniest hair
of a trigger
and yet stay
so painfully numb
the rest of the time?
why do i pile it on
and feel nothing
then explode when
the tiniest comment is made.
why can't i choose one,
feel or not feel?
why do i have to be stuck
in this painful inbetween?
why can't i go up
instead of
blowing up?
To go up
I want to go up.
To where, I don't know
but I know that it'll be
somewhere I've never been before
Maybe if I try hard enough
I could float into the sky
and never come back down
no matter how hard people call
And when they think
of me in the future they'll just say
oh she's the girl who went where
no one else could ever find her
And I would just be watching
from wherever I am, and maybe
If you're lucky enough
You could join me too
To keep your spirits up ...
If you’re down in the mouth, something’s missing.
When your day’s heading south, just look up.
When your spring lacks its pounce, for you’re weary;
troubles all seem to mount. Then buck up.
Keep your head ever high. Meet those gazes.
With your head thus held high, your head’s up.
Keep your chin in line, too. No digressing;
fight that pout. You must keep your chin up.
If the weeds start to choke, grab your pruners.
Where the ground is all clogged, just dig up.
If your head starts to cloud, clear your vision.
Dig down deep to the roots of your soul.