Plastic Molding

Dear Barbie
Won’t you teach me how it’s done?
Your naturally long bouncy blonde hair,
Your shinning flat plastic blue eyes,
Thump think waist,
Your perfectly pasted mouth,
And your already-made-for-heels feet.
Teach me how to get a
Perfect plastic sculpted six pack boy
With his blonde slicked back perfect hair,
And bright emotionless blue eyes
Who can do everything but bend his arms and knees.
Teach me how to have that perfect
Hands don’t fit together,
Beating heartless,
Never closer never farther,
Can’t hold me
Relationship.
Teach me to have
The same faced,
Different colored hair,
Almost as perfect as you
Friends.
Teach me to
Leave my life,
And my millions of clones lives,
To some fashion challenged
Eleven year old girl
Who thinks perfect ends come with the words
Barbie and Ken.

Colored Walls

It's ticking away
In red lines
On my Whinnie the Pooh alarm clock.
Something dear to me next to it.
Everything in this room is driving me crazy.
All reminding me of who I am.
Even these periods I can't stand.
I know I should be asleep right now
But I can still hear the foot steps up stairs.
The night light refusing to turn on
It's not dark enough for it.
My umbrella from two days ago
Sitting open in the corner.
It blocks my access to my bulcky dresser
Which I filled with everything but the kitchen sink
And clothes.
Then there's the window.
Making escaping so easy to do
But never bringing myself too close.
Open and run
Nothing as simple.
Run, faster, faster, faster
Away from all these things
That define who I am.
From the pink and purple monkeys on my bed,
To my hammy down mirrors.
From the new backpack i got at the beganning of the year
And still haven't used because I'm afraid I'll look weird
To the stacks of art supplies in my closet
Next to my too small pants that I still strive to fit in to.
From the stacks of books that cover my floor,
half of which I haven't even read
To the glasses on my bathroom sink
That make me look smarter when I don't have the brain to match.
From this very laptop on my lap
To the cell phone laying next to it.
I'll push the save button
And hope it works in more ways than one.

There It Is

So there's this funny thing called love
That comes with a boy or girl
It's tucked away in your back pocket
Till it slips out
It's at the very bottom of your soul
in those beat up converses
It's the bookmark in your favorite book
Wth the worn edges
It's the rainbow umbrella
That you smile at everytime you see it
It's in the sun block
You smack on as you run out the door
It's in the used tires of your bike
That keep you rolling
It's in the smoot edges of you iPod
That never leaves your side
It's in you're very presence
Even when you're not there.

This is today

I want to know
what's this world coming to
when the head line is
'octuplets born' or
'What you should wear to the oscars'
what happened to
'War in Iraq' or
'Genocide everywhere but here'
we're lucky that there's an ocean
between us and the rest of the world
cause we couldn't handle it anywhere else.
here it seems it's all about the green
there it's about culture and conflict
I guess we'll have to wait
for the ocean to become sand.

How Well a Clock Can Tell

Tick tock.
I hear it threw my bedroom door.
Tick tock.
I’m counting down the minutes till I fall asleep.
Tick tock.
It won’t let me sleep.
Tick tock.
It’s determined to keep me up.
Tick tock.
Why won’t you stop?
Tick tock.
Do you have a question?
Tick tock.
Please stop.
Tick tock.
I can feel the bags growing around my eyes.
Tick tock.
I turn to my silent clock.
Tick tock.
It tells me no accurate time.
Tick tock.
I’m back.
Tick tock.
Listening to your whining.
Tick tock.
Reaching out to find someone.
Tick tock.
Anyone.
Tick tock.
Me.

Don't Cry For Her

Dear World,
This is the story of a woman.
She was not extraordinary, she was not a savior.
She was a person, one of the six billion
Passing you in a crowd.
She did not stand out, she did not blend in.
But she was.

She had a happy childhood,
And like most she had one.
With parents, and friends
That came around occasionally.
A walk from school, a walk back.
Birthday cakes and balloons.

In her Tween years
She dreamed of princess,
And her happily ever after.
Her blond haired, blue eyed prince.
Though to her surprise, but none other,
He didn’t come.

She had a sad teen hood,
She turned to the dark.
It slowly consumed her
As people passed her by.
No one reaching out a hand,
No one to know how.

And now she lays seventeen,
For forty years.

Come Back to Us

As our troops return home
Carrying the scars of war
The hardship unknown to us

We welcome them
Giving out our hearts
Unknown of how they feel

As they tell their story
Of all their glory
We’ll never forget
As the war rages on

And so many lost
Over seas they lie
With no face
And no name
Unknown to those around them

Do we know what they left behind?
Do we know what they lost?

We’re all thankful
When the one we love
Comes home safe

Thinking how lucky we are
Not to have to be the one
The one who lost a love