Trapped inside me is a mother Trapped inside me is a rolly polly girl I’m gonna shake it like no other I’m gonna spread my crazy fingers through the world.
We will always be together child We can get through any weather child.
Mommy sees me in the mirror Mommy runs her crazy fingers through my hair Mommy knows I like her makeup Mommy knows I like those crazy clothes she wears.
We will always be together child We can get through any weather child.
Mommy says I am her angel Mommy says I am her bouncy flouncy boy Mommy sets me on the table Mommy says that when I dance it brings her joy.
We will always be together child We can get through any weather child.
Mommy dances beside me; in the mirror we are one Mommy dances behind me; mommy and me have so much fun.
Trapped inside a woman I dab her makeup when it dribbles down my face Trapped inside me is a lady Watch this lady dance her way to outer space.
We will always be together child We can get through any weather child.
I read somewhere that all serial killers must love two colors- purple and black. Black brings in the violence, and purple leads them to murder for reasons that are fanciful and grandiose.
Not that lovers of purple are more likely to be violent. If anything, they are probably less so. A few days ago, I got a dog named Lavender Slippers. Her favorite color is light purple and she is the most sweet and gentle dog ever. I imagine she has her fanciful side though, because every time she sleeps her legs make strange movements, as though she is dancing in a field of butterflies.
I could probably write a book on the color purple and the people who love it, since it is one of my favorite subjects to think about. But for now, I will just point out that you don’t really want evil and purple to get mixed up, unless you fancy results that are as theatrical as they are horrifying.
Throne of Ice
Throne of ice, throne of snow When you go out Nobody knows where you go On your evening stroll.
Cobblestones and autumn lights Fantasy takes purple flights Nobody knows the beauty you bring There is a world where you are king.
Your eyes are cruel With signs of incipient insanity Butterflies fly fly Through the air you breathe.
Your mouth is water logged Your tongue it swims and swirls in a Purple flood to subsume your love With blood, with blood.
You would wear lace if it weren’t out of place Ruffles and bows, powder on your face Necklaces and stacks of rings There is a world where you are king.
Pain and ice, blood and blade Nobody knows the choices you made They weren’t there when the angel flew To lay his visions over you.
Your eyes are cruel With signs of incipient insanity Butterflies fly fly Through the air you breathe.
Your mouth is water logged Your tongue it swims and swirls in a Purple flood to subsume your love With blood, with blood.
A purple scream, a careful slice Lesser people pay the price But you remember your moment of need The whole world stood to watch you bleed.
They stood and watched on that autumn day When you grew wings and you flew away Away from the sounds of your own screams You found a world where you are king.
Your eyes are cruel With signs of incipient insanity Butterflies fly fly Through the air you breathe.
Your mouth is water logged Your tongue it swims and swirls in a Purple flood to subsume your love With blood, with blood.
Three kings lower their crowns Lift them from their heads and set them on the ground I know I let you down.
I remember you high Gold star in the sky Please try to believe me– I never wanted to lie.
Back then I lived in a cloud, my mind in a daze As I danced like an animal up on the stage And at midnight he carried me back to his home So I could chew on his body like a dog on a bone…
And now I must atone.
Three kings lower their crowns Lift them from their heads and set them on the ground I know I let you down.
I remember you proud and tall Head high on the wall Please try to believe me– I’m sorry that I didn’t call.
But the buttons on his phone were too sticky to touch And the scabs on my wrist started hurting too much Cause at night they would open me up with their tools And then lick at my body till I started to drool…
I disappointed you.
Three kings lower their crowns Lift them from their heads and set them on the ground I know I let you down.
Please accept regret for the things I can’t change For the awkward moments I cannot rearrange I know I don’t deserve your grace.
Cause the chicken they fed me I knew it wasn’t fresh Still I buried my teeth into its withering flesh And I saved up the bones to keep track of the days Till he came into my cage and just swept them away.
Then he walked like a king up the stairs to the light While I was tied by a rope to a permanent night I know I should do something, something other than freeze Cause the sock in my mouth tasted like a disease And I tried to think something, tried to think something smart But the walls would turn wavy and then crumble apart…
I know I broke your heart.
Three kings lower their crowns Lift them from their heads and set them on the ground I know I let you down.
thick and gray, blobby and wet turn your eyes away, don’t ruin this precious day– shame, shame
sky of blue, tree of green can’t you find happiness in the simple things– shame, shame
you know you’re fat, you know you’re soft it hurts to move, it hurts to walk you feel your pus, you feel your slime when they recoil from you, you know the reason why– shame
people smile what good does it do when you reach out your hand and they recoil from you– shame
they don’t want to touch, they don’t want to play you must find happiness in another way- shame, shame
everyone smiles, everyone’s a saint they all pay taxes, they all control their weight you lurk around in the corners of your mind dark friends are the only ones you can find- shame
slip and slide, it’s dark inside everything is too wet, reach for a cigarette– shame, shame
maybe some fun could chase it away but you’re too tired to run, reach for a honey bun– shame, shame
stick out your hand, when no one is around plugging your fingers into the silent sounds you know that evil could throw you a line clear the cobwebs out of your mind– shame
you know you’ve failed, you know you won’t try again you know you won’t be happy when the others win– shame, shame
a star of black, a pearl of gray your ears are open to learn about another way– shame, shame
evil shines, evil frees it’s the only friend you have when you’re down on your knees evil flies, as thin as a bone never overlooked, never left all alone– shame
thin and stern, cloaked in gray turn your eyes away, don’t waste this precious day– shame, shame
cloaked in gray, cold and lean now you find happiness in the simple things– shame, shame
I don’t like microbes; please don’t touch my arm with your fingernails I’ve already thrown up in my own mouth three times today I twist and spin, still the world presses in like a gauzy veil Covers my eyes, lies, fuzzy, and white Voices smile, laugh, holding me tight to the ground I’ll survive Let me be- I’m not going outside Where the butterflies fly too far away to be seen Over the green.
I don’t like good people, they don’t feel what they say feel They’ll never give up their candy for children to eat They flit and shine as the world crumbles down to obey their will Buries me down, brown under their feet Hear me beg, cry, I know defeat- it’s alright I’ll survive Let me be- I’m not going outside Where the butterflies fly too far away to be seen Over the green.
Stick to the underside, shrug it off for the final time Spit out the silk line and follow it home.
I don’t like feeling that your brain is in this same building I’ll blank my my mind as I stare at a big empty screen A bag of chips and a diet coke; that’s all I need now You can poke, prod, urge me to live You can stare, scratch tell that that I must forgive I’ll survive Let me be, I’m not going alive
I will fight, bite, leave me alone Here to die, fly, I’m going home- it’s alright I’ll survive In a way, I’m already outside Where the butterflies fly too far away to be seen Over the green.
Tell me that you like my hat, walking through the garden path, filtered sun
Flowers sway in golden heat, smiling every time we meet, like we are one
But I know that you’re hard
And I know that you’re full of rain
And the ones you discard
I know they never walk again
Then I see you driving by, almost shy, black man against the sky, and my throat begins to shrink
Though everybody says you’re fine, benign, always smiling all the time, till I don’t know what to think
You gotta learn how to die
So why not look in your eyes
Polishing the silver bright, sparkle in the evening light, catch a smile
Hear a knock upon my door,should I answer it before you go wild
Cause I know you’ve been hard
And I know you’ve been full of rain
Standing there in my yard
Your eyes are soft and wandering
But then you catch me by surprise, oversize, black lightning from your eyes and I tell myself to run
But instead I turn and smile, denial, conversate with you a while till it starts to feel like fun
I know that everyone dies
So why not look in your eyes
Life is like an angry man, best to follow his command, don’t run and hide
See you standing hesitantly, why not have a cup of tea, come inside
Though I know that you’re hard
and I know that you’re full of rain
Still it lowers my guard
to see your brown hands trembling
But then you get me on the ground, hold me down, black spirits all around, till I don’t know what will break
And I try to spin my mind through a rhyme to another place in time, till my brain begins to shake
And then you say let’s have some fun, sticky bun, and you’re reaching for your gun, but I cannot feel your weight
Cause in my mind I’m out the door, zombie whore, shopping at the grocery store till you break my crazy eight.
I see feminism as being the natural, inflammatory response of a society that needs to flush out an excess of fashion designers.
Officially, feminism is about wage discrepancies and political power, yet it only seems to arise in places where women are made to feel neurotic about their physical appearance. Eventually, they reach a fork in the road where they either have to become a feminist or have that extra rib removed. By nature, women are designed to be sensitive towards what men think and feel about them. It hurts to feel that you aren’t perfectly beautiful and lovable the way god made you. And- even if you are a celebrated beauty- it hurts to feel beautiful only because you match certain objective standards that could be met by anyone. It makes you interchangeable, a commodity. I think people become feminists from the perception that men are shallow and incapable of true love, therefore it is dangerous to risk being dependent on them.
Here in West Virginia, there is really no feminism to speak of, but no need for it either. Thin or fat, old or young, neatly dressed or wild looking, the women seem unselfconscious about their appearance. They are confident that simply being alive and female will suffice to attract men to them. Judging by the number of children they have, it seems they are right. It is strange, but, while living here I have yet to hear a single man or woman praise or critique anyone’s appearance, including their own.
Of course this may stem from the fact that hillbillies devote less of their brain to imagining how other people see them in general, probably a necessary trait for thriving in secluded areas where admirers and applause are hard to come by. From what I can tell, they derive less pleasure from making a good impression, and less pain from making a bad one. Hence, the classic Appalachian front yard, filled with sofas, rusted pieces of metal, and semi-broken toys. Once I asked a neighbor about her landscaping style. She explained that storing junk in your front yard creates more space inside your house, and keeps the backyard free for games and picnics.
Putting your worst foot forward also creates a sort of protective psychological coating, similar to the No Tresspassing signs that adorn every property. It tells people upfront that you aren’t going to bend yourself out of shape to put on the ritz for them, and if they want a cup of sugar they should go elsewhere. Which is an important vibe to put off. Living in the same mountain crevice can get rather intimate and you really need to have a bit of a barbed wire feeling about you or your neighbors will be cleaning out your fridge before you know it.
But anyway, back to feminism….
The myth of sexism, I think, is that it flourishes among backwoods country people and square religious Midwesterners. My observations, however, have led me to believe the opposite, that sexism- like many contagious diseases- begins in the largest, most cosmopolitan cities who then export it through movies, music, and fashion to the rest of the country.
Of course, this depends on your definition of sexism. To some, sexism is defined by the genders having complementary roles rather than identical ones. To me, it is a mental disease that causes women to have low self-esteem which they then attempt to fortify through male approval. Sometimes they do this through excessive focus on their physical appearance, and sometimes through trying to adopt masculine traits that they don’t actually possess. The classic movie heroine, gunning people down in a leather bikini, would be doing both. In a non-sexist society, females can be pudgy and have no greater ambition in life than to create an “Under the Sea” theme for their child’s birthday party. And their husbands can feel very, very proud of them for doing this.
Of course, the urban worldview causes psychological stress to men as well. They may no longer feel that being a good husband and providing for their family is enough, but instead feel pressure to worm their way towards the top of the human pyramid. These pressures may also exist in the country, but they are not as strong. It is much less exhilarating to sit atop a tiny pyramid and much less painful to live at its bottom.
Which is why I don’t see sexism as being a problem, in and of itself, in our society. It is just one of the many inevitable side effects that occur when a whole cluster of people try to source their self-esteem from being better than each other. We could start a social movement to make all sexist sentiments go away, but since they would probably be replaced by ideas just as offensive, why bother?
On the other hand, while I don’t recommend trying to wipe it from the planet altogether, I do think there are two little steps we can take to diminish the power of sexism in our own spheres and thus render feminism unnecessary.
1) I think a number of “mental diseases” could be cured just by people expressing themselves more honestly and more frequently. One thing I have noticed with men especially, is that it tends to be the most obnoxious and also the most sexist of them (Donald Trump) who are always running their mouths, while the “better” men tend to remain quiet. This sometimes gives the impression that Trump’s thoughts are representative of men in general. As Edmund Burke said, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”
2) On a personal level, we should relish the poisonous ideas of our group mind to the extent that they spur us on towards greater mental independence. After kicking their babies out of the nest, eagles remove the soft filling to reveal a bed of thorns. When the little birds try to fly back to mommy and daddy, their bodies get cut up and bloodied. Likewise, our group mind is filled with ideas that tend to cut into our self-esteem, and the older you get, the less they seem to flatter you. Perhaps this is by design. These thorns push us, once we are ready, away from the mucoid comfort of conformity, and out into the big blue world to perceive and believe what no one else has before.
Silver rain upon my hand so soft, falling
Silver sky coagulate and cough, falling down
Didn’t you say it would be easier to tell the truth, you were wrong
Didn’t you say there would be somewhere in your world where I could belong
Clouds cry, something’s wrong
You knew I was not strong
I only wanted someone to care, is that wrong?
Silver words dissolve upon my tongue, tasteless
Silver links of love that stretch so long, baseless why?
Didn’t you say you would be one man in the whole wide world who never lies?
Didn’t you say you would be just one man to never cover up his eyes?
You cry, something’s wrong
You knew I was not strong
I only wanted someone to care, is that wrong?
Soft things follow me
Dark words I cannot see
Didn’t you say you would find me?
All the words left hanging in the air, silence
All the words you never need to share, violence, why?
Didn’t you say that in this big blue world, you were the man who never falls?
Didn’t you say that when the clouds fell low, you were the one who would never heed their calls?
I cry, something’s wrong
You knew I was not strong
I only wanted someone to care, is that wrong?
Quilts lined his hallway
his eyes were so kind
he shook your hand, a gentle man
perhaps that was a sign.
You followed him to the patio
there were steaks on the grill
the trees swayed, the clouds flew
the world became still.
Now you awake and you’re the lucky one
you’re alive and they died
twenty white coffins lined up side by side.
They died believing that the universe was good
they died when his eyes were hid by a hood.
A face tan and placid
nothing furrowed his brow,
laying apples in a basket
he glanced over you and how
could his eyes glow like blue lakes
on which the sun shines.
he almost seemed spiritual
perhaps that was a sign.
Now you’re awake and you’re the lucky one
you’re alive and they died
layed out like white stars in boxes of pine.
They reached for goodness they reached for the light
their prayers were answered in boxes of white.
His picture still hangs on the wall by your bed
surrounded by white stars to symbolize the dead
and you gaze in his blue eyes now trying to get
the wisdom that white light would never permit.
In darkness all the stars rise
from their beds hard and plain
if they speak to you, believe in them
they have nothing to gain
And they will speak, cause you’re the lucky one
in a feather soft bed
cottony pillows to comfort your head.
Some say the universe is ruled by the good
Some say it’s ruled by a man in a hood.