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Emotions Collected in Tranquility
I was Cinderella.
With trembling hands, you fixed
glass slippers to my feet
and so I knew
I was queen of bedlam's damned,
robed in my stained nightie.
Lithium had not dethroned me.
I was free to stalk regally
the lipstick dipstick cauliflowers
with wandering minds.
"Do not go gentle into the good night," (1)
Go hump a tree.
when my mind was wandering,
I was plath, a stunted tulip,
a damaged eternal child, exiled
from my fancy, garnished with snot.
I ate myself. A Snickers wrapper,
I found myself adrift on wet salt
as black as your heart,
you were the woody underneath my bum,
I overturned you
a mermaid atrophied.
"My heart aches and a drowsy numbness pains" (2)
Keats, who never made
friends with Guinness
and died sucking his dick.
The Little Matchstick Girl saw
doggerel eat Schrodinger's cat.
I was a Mermaid cresting flaccid white
Starbucks lovers are Swift boyfriends. They
raped the shit out of me.
It was a fatal enema. Fartless, I danced down
into the muttering retreats (3)
of the cigarette-ashen street.
You were passing by.
You cut me.
And lit a wilting cigarette.
My phallic images are so overdone.
I cut myself today.
I wanted to feel
more than your silence.
Blood is Thin Mint. It runs
with no enthusiasm. Sorry, skanky bitch, insincere,
unlike me. I ran and ran and ran,
fire in my feet.
Pain and joy were my beautiful black wings.
You thought I was a butterfly.
Or your eyes did. They tried
to fix me.
I flew away, laughing, atropine
in my leaking veins. Were I a cunt poem,
I live not
in profuse strains of unpremeditated art. (4)
I am MDMA,
Daydreams made me a Sleeping Beauty.
I was never awake to feel
Mummy's acid tongue rip
my peroxide porcelain perfection, once Marilyn-ed,
I am no longer Daddy's little princess.
I am a big girlie now.
So fuck me and wank for me
and tell me you'll strip for me.
Don't fuck with me.
You sucked on country pleasures, childishly. (5)
The mirror is cracked.
I only have the room till one.
All my bags are packed.
I am ready to go.
I am leaving on a jetplane. (6)
1. Dylan Thomas' Do Not Go Gentle Into the Good Night which is, like c'mon, a totally amazing poem. Seriously. # awesome.
2. The maudlin Keat's Ode to a Nightingale, about a seriously ugly bird that doesn't deserve it's high-falutin name. Good meat though.
3. Eliot's poem about some bald dude. Bald dudes are scary in prison. It must be the baldness.
4. Shelleys ode to another seriously ugly bird. Won't someone write a poem about a Boeing airbus for a change? They're birds too, right? Am I right?
5. From one of John Donne's randy poems. Cool dude. Serious street cred. Totally awesome.
6. Written by a dude, repossessed by a chick and rendered sublime, this is from Leaving on a Jetplane which tries to induce pathos (SAT word, you won't get it) into a mundane activity. My poems about the lawnmower in the backyard are more awesome. My poetry teacher agrees and he went to Puck Frinceton. Yeah, and he wants to get into my pants.
#Unreal #Poem #Disney #Princesses #Tranquility
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