ms. Plath stuck her head in the oven,
ms. Woolf drowned herself in the sea.
with the fate of these mad girls all laid out
i wonder what will become of me?
i think i’m mad.
i’m a mad girl.
i’ve been bad.
i’ve been a bad, bad girl.
ms. Sexton was just a touch like me
the way she wrote right from her heart strings
she started her car, wouldn’t let it go free
‘twas carbon monoxide poisoning!
i think i’m mad.
i’m a mad girl.
i’ve been bad.
i’ve been a bad, bad girl.
my substance abusers,
my famous cohorts,
the suicide seducers
who’ve cut their thread short
they write a word,
then take a breath.
love&lies&life&death.
they write a word,
then take a drink
&taketake in that nicotine.
i think i’m mad.
i’m a mad girl.
i’ve been bad.
i’ve been a bad, bad girl.
Sylvia Plath
was under The Bell Jar
and wouldn’t let herself out.
Virginia Woolf
couldn’t swim To The Lighthouse
but she gave me something to write about.
Anne Sexton
went through a Transformation
and was encased in glass, no doubt.
i think i’m mad.
i’m a mad girl.
i’ve been bad.
i’ve been a bad, bad girl.
i think i’m bad.
i’m a bad girl.
i’m going mad.
and it’s the end of the world.
Monday, July 18, 2011
you're not over the rainbow (a sad "somewhere over the rainbow" parody).
you’re not over the rainbow
but babe, she died
four or five years ago,
four or five years ago,
and i’m paying for her lost life.
you’re not over the rainbow
because she died
and when you’re looking at me,
it’s into a dead girl’s eyes.
someday i’ll wish upon a star
and find myself inside a bar to drink you away.
drinking 20 lemondrops and
smoking like a chimney top
that's where you'll find me.
“somewhere over the fucking rainbow,”
you’re kidding me, right?
with a song titled like that
with a song titled like that
i’m guessing that you’re not fine.
someday i’ll wish upon a star
and find myself inside a bar to drink you away.
drinking 20 lemondrops and
smoking like a chimney top
that's where you'll find me because
you’re not over the rainbow
and so, we’re through.
just stop thinking of her
why oh why can't you?
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
sailing song.
i've loosened my lips to sink your ship
that seemed to be sailing so smoothly.
the rough waters that were my words
tumbled about and thrashed and crashed
and your poor ship, so carefully tended,
was upended, not to be mended.
darling, you're no yellow bird.
of anchor and ships,
of ankles and slips
tangled together and thrown on the floor
(to think, i'd become your paper-back whore!)
of anchors and ships,
of ankles and slips
tangled together no more.
i've untied my tongue
and your sails you've hung
but freedom is not without consequences
so we build up our fences
you pull up your anchor,
i tuck in my ankles
and away we go, off to the sea
me without you
and you without me.
of anchor and ships,
of ankles and slips
tangled together and thrown on the floor
(to think, i'd become your paper-back whore!)
of anchors and ships,
of ankles and slips
tangled together no more.
i think you'll drown out there at sea.
i'm drowning myself in peppermint tea
so i'll document everything that went wrong
dear, we just didn't belong.
wind to your sails, darling,
dead men tell no tales.
of anchor and ships,
of ankles and slips
tangled together and thrown on the floor
(to think, i'd become your paper-back whore!)
of anchors and ships,
of ankles and slips
waving goodbye at the door.
of anchors and ships,
of ankles and slips
tangled together,
they tangle together,
we'll tangle together no more.
that seemed to be sailing so smoothly.
the rough waters that were my words
tumbled about and thrashed and crashed
and your poor ship, so carefully tended,
was upended, not to be mended.
darling, you're no yellow bird.
of anchor and ships,
of ankles and slips
tangled together and thrown on the floor
(to think, i'd become your paper-back whore!)
of anchors and ships,
of ankles and slips
tangled together no more.
i've untied my tongue
and your sails you've hung
but freedom is not without consequences
so we build up our fences
you pull up your anchor,
i tuck in my ankles
and away we go, off to the sea
me without you
and you without me.
of anchor and ships,
of ankles and slips
tangled together and thrown on the floor
(to think, i'd become your paper-back whore!)
of anchors and ships,
of ankles and slips
tangled together no more.
i think you'll drown out there at sea.
i'm drowning myself in peppermint tea
so i'll document everything that went wrong
dear, we just didn't belong.
wind to your sails, darling,
dead men tell no tales.
of anchor and ships,
of ankles and slips
tangled together and thrown on the floor
(to think, i'd become your paper-back whore!)
of anchors and ships,
of ankles and slips
waving goodbye at the door.
of anchors and ships,
of ankles and slips
tangled together,
they tangle together,
we'll tangle together no more.
imperfection.
You aren’t perfect
And even as I write,
I wish that I would stop.
I can’t go on and on and
Think of how you are just so...
Wrong.
And so I’ll stop for now.
Tuck away my thoughts
Of guiding this sinking ship
Down to the depths of my
Personal graveyard
Because I’m afraid of what it means.
And even as I write,
I wish that I would stop.
I can’t go on and on and
Think of how you are just so...
Wrong.
And so I’ll stop for now.
Tuck away my thoughts
Of guiding this sinking ship
Down to the depths of my
Personal graveyard
Because I’m afraid of what it means.
smoking poem (imissyou)
if i could light you up,
i would.
i'd inhale you,
and hold you in my lungs
until my throat began to burn
and then i'd let your sweet smoke
flow out of my mouth,
thick and a perfect, toxic white.
my smoking sweater would smell of you,
and i'd never wash it.
i'd tuck it under my pillow for safe-keeping
and when i was done with you,
i'd place what little of you
i haven't greedily consumed
in my ashtray,
a forever home for my forever boy,
until my groping fingers reach for you again,
only to find that i've over-used you,
and all that's left is ash.
now i want a cigarette.
and i miss you.
i would.
i'd inhale you,
and hold you in my lungs
until my throat began to burn
and then i'd let your sweet smoke
flow out of my mouth,
thick and a perfect, toxic white.
my smoking sweater would smell of you,
and i'd never wash it.
i'd tuck it under my pillow for safe-keeping
and when i was done with you,
i'd place what little of you
i haven't greedily consumed
in my ashtray,
a forever home for my forever boy,
until my groping fingers reach for you again,
only to find that i've over-used you,
and all that's left is ash.
now i want a cigarette.
and i miss you.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
(You Make Me Feel Like) The Supremes
oh, you.
yeah, i'm talkin' 'bout you.
yeah, you're wonderful
all shiny and new
but night after night,
i'm singing backup for my life.
baby, you're Diana Ross
and you make me feel like The Supremes.
your name is up in lights,
sweetheart, you're the biggest star
but you can't see who i really am
and i see you for who you are
but night after night,
i'm singing backup for my life.
baby, you're Diana Ross
and you make me feel like The Supremes.
oh, you are the greatest
greatest man who ever lived,
so Lady Diana, won't you look right beside you
and see what i would give
to have you look at me
the way you look at yourself
when you see your own face in the mirror?
night after night,
i'm singing backup for my life.
baby, you're Diana Ross
and you make me feel like The Supremes.
night after night,
it's backup for my life,
playing Diana Ross and The Supremes.
night after night,
i'm singing backup for my life.
baby, you're Diana Ross
and you make me feel like The Supremes.
yeah, i'm talkin' 'bout you.
yeah, you're wonderful
all shiny and new
but night after night,
i'm singing backup for my life.
baby, you're Diana Ross
and you make me feel like The Supremes.
your name is up in lights,
sweetheart, you're the biggest star
but you can't see who i really am
and i see you for who you are
but night after night,
i'm singing backup for my life.
baby, you're Diana Ross
and you make me feel like The Supremes.
oh, you are the greatest
greatest man who ever lived,
so Lady Diana, won't you look right beside you
and see what i would give
to have you look at me
the way you look at yourself
when you see your own face in the mirror?
night after night,
i'm singing backup for my life.
baby, you're Diana Ross
and you make me feel like The Supremes.
night after night,
it's backup for my life,
playing Diana Ross and The Supremes.
night after night,
i'm singing backup for my life.
baby, you're Diana Ross
and you make me feel like The Supremes.
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