Vanishing Act

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Vanishing Act

She could never keep her feet on the ground
she preferred her head above the clouds
daydreams taking her far away
leaving the cruel world behind
to others, just an empty shell
but on the inside…

She could never understand her fate
born free only to become enslaved
told when and how to feel
how to act and what to do and say
a second class citizen with a womb
expected to be a selfless caretaker of others
as if one job that pays less than a man isn’t enough.

She could never find peace in vacations
everywhere she went was the same
people controlling and questioning
lines of strangers greedy and pushing
draining her money and energy
not that any amount could unshackle her.

She could never breakout of her prison
returning to a home that wasn’t hers
“things” that belonged more than she did
a life she couldn’t bear for another instant
the heavy weight of it took her breath away
her heart crushed like so much stardust.

She could never commit suicide
despite her unhappiness with it all
so enthralled by the heavens that night
she made a decision to travel once more
plucking the evening star to wear in her hair
she decorated her robe with the milky way
wearing the rings of Saturn as her crown
a sliver of moon topped her scepter
finally, all the universe was hers alone.

Daydreams taking her far away
never, never to return.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2015/2017

An old poem reworked with my animation from Magpie Tales and shared with Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads. This is about women and some of the thoughts we may share about being born a woman in a man’s world. Some of us may dream of vanishing but we all know that there’s more to life. Going crazy (or suicide) is not the answer but I feel for the women who can’t deal and hope they find the help they need.

Forever In A Dollhouse

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Forever In A Dollhouse

I am lost in my childhood dollhouse
stuck in my dreams
forever waiting for my turn
I wanted a real dollhouse
made of wood with pretty wallpaper
but I got a metal dollhouse
with a plastic family and furniture.

The sky’s a sullen shade of cyan
over the stagnant water
of my metallic pool
the sun burns itself out trying
while rust slowly accumulates
smelling just like blood.

These empty, echoing rooms
scraping by against alloy walls
covered in fake pictures and plants
numb in toxic surroundings
while black mold climbs the stamped stairway
I can’t escape this sinking feeling.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

I really did have a metal dollhouse almost just like this. My artwork and animation unnamed.

Written with Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads for the theme home.

The Harvest

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The Harvest

A lone figure was watching the scene unfold
as a young deer crossed the busy highway
it was a beautiful morning.

The truck swerved and disintegrated
sending shrapnel everywhere
sparks flew from scraping metal
the driver was killed instantly.

His truck slammed into a woman’s car
she barely saw it happen-too fast to react
her windshield breaking glass flying
it was the last thing she saw as she died.

Sticky warm blood leaks, drips, and pools
the smell of gasoline was strong
cooling metal making ticking sounds
dead muscles twitching.

The car was unrecognizable
tangled with the truck
the deer mutilated and decapitated
airbags were deployed but did no good
it seemed like forever sirens in the distance
the ambulance was first but the corner was called
firemen and police were busy trying to pick up the pieces.

Death was chuckling as he watched the spirits rise from the wreck
he swings his sickle wide
gathering up the dead his job done.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

Written for Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads giving an example of incongruity.

Amusement

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Amusement

Strapped in tight
slowly ratcheting uphill
violent accelerations
catapulted about
screaming laughter
G-force jerking
rickety wheels clattering
freefalling
arms flailing
pummeling winds
oscillating heart rates
wildly bobbing heads
sweaty fists grabbing
an emotional roller coaster
juddering…
to an end.

Amusement…
precise mechanical madness.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

Writing about amusement parks with dVerse~Poets Pub. Nothing beats riding rides at a park and the emotions that bubble to the surface.

Bodybuilders’ Ballet

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Bodybuilders’ Ballet 

Feet encased in satin slippers
dancing ‘cross the room on tippy toes
asks for help with the tutus zipper
then steps onstage into the lights
an attitude in perfect form
ripping his tights wide open
exposing reddening cheeks on both ends.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

attitude

In ballet, an attitude has nothing to do with your personality. Actually, an attitude is a pose, a way that a dancer can hold herself. In order to perform an attitude, a dancer must balance herself on one leg while holding the other leg at a 90-degree angle in a curved position. The raised leg can either be held to the back or the front. The arms of the dancer usually remain in fourth position, curved, one arm above the head, and one arm to the side.

source: https://writing.colostate.edu

I picked the title: 1. Bodybuilders in Tutus and 35 Other Obscure Business-Boosting Observations, by Philipp Lomboy, to write my humorous (I hope) micro-poem for Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads.

Loss

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Loss

Stark raving emptiness streams
into the screaming void
I used to recognize,

as me.

My heart’s locked up tight
while loss floods me
under a raging river of uncertainty.

I choke on mouthfuls of regret
gasping for air
while floundering in the inky darkness
my mind squirming like a toad.

Those left behind
prime a minefield of hate and lies
each one taking another limb
my memories are bleeding out.

I can find no closure
leaving me,

lost.

This is about the loss of a parent and what can happen with the siblings/others left behind and how it affects them. The artwork is mine.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

Written with dVerse~Poets Pub.

Too Wrong

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Too Wrong

They wanted something different
a pet that could talk to them
so into the lab the scientist went,
just what the hell did he invent?

They say 2 wrongs don’t make a right
combine them right and you just might
but when the babies came that night
they were not a beauteous sight.

The idea was dogs and humans cloned
the babies were ugly, clean to the bone
when one spoke up in a baritone,
“Which one of you will take me home?”

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

I recycled “Beauty is only skin deep, but ugly goes clean to the bone.” Dorthy Parker and “Two wrongs don’t make a right.”

Written with Saturday’s Image Write and Imaginary Garden With Real Toads.