Poem: Free Verse – “The Writings On The Wall Reveal You” #amwriting #poetry #relationships 


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———–

Am I real?

When you look at me,

Do you see me for me?

Do you care what you see?

I’ve only questions,

While you play your cards close.

I’m not going to cheat,

Peer at your hand because —

I’m afraid what I’ll see.

Such truths, I don’t want to gaze upon —

Unfaithfulness,

Only physicality, sexuality;

No emotion or affection,

No conversation in person,

No Voice stroking voice.

—–

Hands speak with our words,

Eyes glint and reveal,

Secrets you’d rather hide,

With sunglasses.

Staring at your hand,

Trying to beat my cards.

Poker face silent, emotionless;

All bets are off.

Time to show me your cards,

What the river dealt you —

Matters not; but for now,

Play how you like.

Fold if you’re scared,

Of falling into deep,

Of feeling emotion.

Your heart picking-up,

Thumping a beat.

——

But, perhaps, I’m a woman for fodder,

For a lonely night at home.

Perhaps, I’m not pretty enough,

Not thin enough for you.

Maybe, you know I’ll ask questions?

Questions you have trouble answering.

Maybe, you know —

I’ll turn the wanderer in your soul home,

And welcome you in my arms.

Maybe you’re not ready,

Perhaps, your only an ass.

A nice way of saying,

Other words I want to shout.

Perhaps, I’m only a date —

And one night.

Is this how you treat women?

I’m too strong for your tricks.

——-

You may forget my face,

My name, my body.

You may let me do the walk of shame,

Thinking I’m fooled by you,

The man I liked all along;

You may believe —

Finally, you wore me down.

And now I’m flattened,

Nothing left to sculpt,

Nothing left to shatter.

Smithereens, glass embedded.

You may have led me astray,

Made me consider:

I no longer think,

Some guys are good,

And some guys do care.

——

But when I chose you,

Maybe I didn’t realize,

I was choosing all wrong.

Maybe, I should’ve gazed above me —

Seen the ‘writings on the wall.’

Seen the woman in her glory,

Waiting for her own life,

On wings to rise and fly;

From your lies and tricks;

You didn’t shatter me,

I saw all the writings,

Every word on that damn wall,

I know all your horrific secrets;

And I read them all.

——-

©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

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Poem: David Bowie’s Obituary


  

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 ——

David Bowie’s gone away, who knew it was going to be today.

Actually, it happened yesterday, when he passed away.

Surrounded by his loved ones, having lost the fight that many lose.

The battle with Cancer, a battle that took the man David Jones whose,

—–

 

Better known as David Bowie, a legend, who took “music, sexuality, fashion,”

And used them as his “playthings.” When he sang, he performed — it was his passion.

And if you remember Bowie’s  second album, and the song “Space Oddity.”

You’ll think of the story of a Major Tom abandoned in space, a bit of a morbidity.

—–

Bowie followed up his hit with: The Man Who Sold The World.

“Life on Mars” and “Oh You Pretty Things,” defined music in the 1970’s and Bowie was awhirl.

The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars had many well played songs.

“Starman,” “Suffragette City,” and “Rock’n’Roll Suicide, “people sang with Bowie in throngs.

—–

 

Looking at Bowie’s personal life there’s his first wife, Angie Barnett and a talented Hollywood producer son; he divorced Angie in nineteen-eighty.

Bowie was also enthralled with the Rock’n’roll lifestyle: “drink, drugs” and a “vigorous bisexuality.”

His first character was the “sexually ambiguous” Ziggy from his album in nineteen-seventy-two.

But he killed him off and became Aladdin Sane; became an American ‘whose who.’

—-

 

“Cracked Actor” and ” Jean Genie” were also major music hits; Bowie became more,

Not only a singer and songwriter but a producer for Lou Reed whose album soared.

Then came The Apocalyptic Diamond Dogs; an album for Bowie was usually a win,

And the songs, “Golden Years,” “Knock on Wood,” and especially “Fame,” brought him to the USA and fan’s grins.

—–

 

Mixing “electronic soul and avant-guard” Bowie changed direction in Berlin.

He acted in The Man Who Fell From Earth and updated Major Tom’s story in,

“Ashes to Ashes;” but Bowie also came into the nineteen-eighties with pulsing electronic dance.

“China girl,” “Modern Girl,” and  — a duet with Mick Jagger  –“Dancin’ in the Streets,” were popular songs by more than only chance.

——

 

Bowie’s band Tin Machine was into heavy metal and Bowie re-examined his,

Rock’n’Roll roots, producing two “questionable” albums and brought out this,

Heathen album in two-thousand-and-two; he acted as Nikola Tesla, as an illusionist, and in the movie The Prestige Bowie lived,

Sadly, we come near the end — Bowie released The Next Day, album in two-thousand-thirteen; it was wonderful music to give.

——

 

Bowie’s last album came, a beautiful present, Black Star, on his sixty-ninth Birthday, shortly before his death.

Now the performer has passed; an enigma gone to sleep; the actor, producer, performer, and writer at rest.

——

Based on David Bowie’s Obituary online at the BBC:

(http://www.bbc.com/news/entertainment-arts-12494821)

——

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poem: ” Objectified”


 

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It comes to me in pieces. I wasn’t good enough for you. I was only one of many. I didn’t realize, I wasn’t important.

I didn’t have that special vibe, that made you feel alive. The attraction I felt, only my imagination acting out.

Your piercing look of blue seeing me, trying to devise a way to know me. At least you tried a bit. I miss it.

And I miss the arms of someone who loved me much. But something wasn’t right. It’s how some relationships go. I wasn’t aware how much he saw in me, until he was gone.

Some men don’t try at all. They think you are only a release of the pent up need to mate. The desire of a guy for a pretty woman is tireless and unforgiving. He’s sure you’ll answer his libido’s call.

Why did I never see. I was always a number. I was always an object of sexuality. When I was young and so pretty , my worth was my beauty. Somethings don’t change, only the younger women are hotter.

I think of a song: “But Beautiful is empty / Beautiful is free / Beautiful loves no one / Beautiful stripped me.” (Creed) 

Beautiful is empty. Those girls who giggle freely and don’t mind being objectified. But some of them are hiding a world of color and art beneath their facades. A library of knowledge and experiences.

I realize how much we base on looks, our society is based on youth. Those who are the shiny pretty people. But no one can measure up, after your twenties or even then.

You tell me all the hot girls you can get. You tell me how easy they are to find. You make me feel no different then those you have defined merely for sex. What do you want with me, I am not so vapid. 

I thought I saw something in you. A softening of a man’s heart. Maybe I thought, you could sympathize with my life and make more of an effort. But I’m merely cute. I am not beautiful.

I’m not the ‘void’ that made me small when collage boys looked at me. I have learned from my experiences and I have always been more then my face or body. 

You say we should wait and see. Let the way things go, make the decision. I don’t mind going that way. But I see now I’m a number, a prized pet begging for attention with all the other women. A number.

There is an entire women’s movement of equality and their begging their men and trying to teach their sons to see women differently. I don’t think we’re succeeding. 

Woman are valuable because we are a ‘person’equal to men in every way. We are valuable because we are as smart as men and at times, much wiser. 

We are not our looks or our ability to bear a certain amount of children. We are not all the same. Each woman is unique and valuable for being herself. Stop numbering us on your head board. 

Ladies, stop chasing the men who are only after your tail. Stop letting them win when they characterize you as that easy girl they slept with. Make it hard, so they see your worth. Make them work.

And if they can’t see how wonderful you are. Throw them to the curb. Teach them a lesson. Tell them to stop objectifying women. To stop only seeing bleach-blond hair, big breasts,  and a lady whose got back — as the epitome of womanhood.

All of this is special and may make you who you are. The right men will adore your body, and it’s unique proportions. But they’ll adore your mind and your soul equally. They’ll treat you — what a word — specially.

And your man will try his hardest, to ensure you see you are valuable to him. All of you, from your hair to your toes. From your thoughts to your soul. 

Don’t do the walk of shame again and be ashamed for expressing your sexuality. If it’s what you desire you should know, you better make him a number before he turns you into one.

You best believe me lady. You are falling for a con. And you’re pushing back the women’s movement when you give into his charm. When he hasn’t put the work into, seeing you for who you are.