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Literature Text
Scion of the Cinderella generation
Raised in the shadow of a warm 50s Eden,
Where Father knew best and Mom was well dressed
And the world was as God had made it.
Latchkey kid,
Daughter of the weekend dad -
Or every other weekend, in my case -
Raised in the age of steps and halves.
A step away from mother or father,
Half a brother, half a sister.
Fractured, we were told.
Our world was given to us broken,
Like the worst of Christmas toys.
And no refunds.
Destined to be broken, bruised.
How could we be real people
When we were reared by the "boob tube"?
We wanted our MTV
And our Nintendos and our Walkmans
To hide the sounds of parents screaming,
To cover the signs of our own weeping.
In glitter and makeup we covered them -
The bruises -
In Day Glo and Swatches we stalked
The neon Valhalla.
Spoiled little princes of the computer age,
So lucky to have our gizmos and gadgets,
So ungrateful for the clothes on our backs
(Made, as they were, in Taiwan).
Growing twisted in the radiation
Of Hollywood and Judas Priest,
Until we knew too soon
How hard the glass slipper was going to be
Once our turn came to be on bended knee.
We weren't "Like a Virgin," and we couldn't be
In the days when the beds were burning,
During the nights when our fears were tucking us in
And turning out the lights.
Hunted across streets and alleys,
In our back yards and our bedrooms,
And most of our faces never graced the news.
Chased from the ball by the ones who set the rules,
By the generations raised with God and Mom and apple pie -
And we were supposed to end up like you?
Yeah, Dad, tell me another one,
When you get done complaining about forking out cash
For the daughters and sons you left behind.
My LA Gears were as good as rags,
My teachers and shrinks as good as mice and rats,
While you couldn't take the time to so much as play catch.
I'll show you a Fairy Godmother
Spinning gold out of cinders and ash,
Weaving magic out of terror and panic,
Taking the mirror of Snow White's evil stepmom
And reflecting the hollow myth of your own greatness.
If your age was the last bastion of saneness,
Then we were as lost as Alice well before
Reagan was ever in office.
And the only way we'll dance is by breaking through
The delicate, shiny prisons woven around us
In metal and concrete and fiberglass.
For our own good, of course.
For our own good.
Raised in the shadow of a warm 50s Eden,
Where Father knew best and Mom was well dressed
And the world was as God had made it.
Latchkey kid,
Daughter of the weekend dad -
Or every other weekend, in my case -
Raised in the age of steps and halves.
A step away from mother or father,
Half a brother, half a sister.
Fractured, we were told.
Our world was given to us broken,
Like the worst of Christmas toys.
And no refunds.
Destined to be broken, bruised.
How could we be real people
When we were reared by the "boob tube"?
We wanted our MTV
And our Nintendos and our Walkmans
To hide the sounds of parents screaming,
To cover the signs of our own weeping.
In glitter and makeup we covered them -
The bruises -
In Day Glo and Swatches we stalked
The neon Valhalla.
Spoiled little princes of the computer age,
So lucky to have our gizmos and gadgets,
So ungrateful for the clothes on our backs
(Made, as they were, in Taiwan).
Growing twisted in the radiation
Of Hollywood and Judas Priest,
Until we knew too soon
How hard the glass slipper was going to be
Once our turn came to be on bended knee.
We weren't "Like a Virgin," and we couldn't be
In the days when the beds were burning,
During the nights when our fears were tucking us in
And turning out the lights.
Hunted across streets and alleys,
In our back yards and our bedrooms,
And most of our faces never graced the news.
Chased from the ball by the ones who set the rules,
By the generations raised with God and Mom and apple pie -
And we were supposed to end up like you?
Yeah, Dad, tell me another one,
When you get done complaining about forking out cash
For the daughters and sons you left behind.
My LA Gears were as good as rags,
My teachers and shrinks as good as mice and rats,
While you couldn't take the time to so much as play catch.
I'll show you a Fairy Godmother
Spinning gold out of cinders and ash,
Weaving magic out of terror and panic,
Taking the mirror of Snow White's evil stepmom
And reflecting the hollow myth of your own greatness.
If your age was the last bastion of saneness,
Then we were as lost as Alice well before
Reagan was ever in office.
And the only way we'll dance is by breaking through
The delicate, shiny prisons woven around us
In metal and concrete and fiberglass.
For our own good, of course.
For our own good.
Literature
Unseen Redemption
Atested to time,
void's embrace.
Inside what may be,
time's limitless pace.
Abundance renowned,
a singular vision.
Distance presence,
united division.
Instinct abound,
abundant love.
In distant sounds,
of a white dove.
Resounding silence,
a touch of fate.
Instant redundance,
lucrative state.
A timeless honor,
in desperation astounds.
Vague whispers,
of void abounds.
Literature
Listen
The forest grew weary in the night. The mist rested upon the ground as dew and not even the crickets chirped, and if one looked closely enough at the trees, no ants crawled across them. And it was for one reason only. One man only.
I woke in that night, in the silence so unbearable and so oppressive that not even the wind gave off a whisper. I woke far from my bed on the cold, damp ground, naked.
As I raised my eyes and cautiously stood, I laid gaze upon a silhouette that stood not ten feet from me. He stood still and he stood silent. Whether he was looking at me or away from me, I couldn't tell. Not a breath passed his lips, not a waver we
Literature
Tell me how
Tell me how
you can cause me
to turn red at a single phrase
Tell me how
you can cause me
to even forget my name.
Tell me how
you can cause me
to trip over my words
Tell me how
you can cause my
heart to be stirred.
Tell me how.
Because m'dear
Suggested Collections
Whew! I don't remember the last time I was inclined to this much poetry!
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