girl

Tea Parties

This little girl has a story:
She grew up in a dark world,
But was surrounded by pinks
And soft pastel colours,
Barbie dolls and tea cup sets,
Clothes for princesses,
A tiara to top it off.
It was the perfect facade…
Pink reminded her of blood –
And pastel was the colour of happiness she hated…
Barbies were her mother,
And tea cups symbols of oppression.
Princess clothing – a mocking gesture to the world,
And a tiara – the final broken halo of goodness.

She cast her spells
(curses – that sort of thing)
And sprinkled her glitter.
(cyanide – looked like weird snow!)
She baked everyone cookies
(filled with rat poison)
and even gave her neighbours gifts!
(bombs – strong enough to damage, but not kill)

She was the sweetest girl,
She was happy too!
Can we blame her then
For living happily?

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One Night Deal

Beauty Princess smile –
pretend the scars don’t exist.
Let the water wash over you;
let it cleanse,
bleach the dark –
make everything blonde.
Let the diamonds drip,
walk with strut,
strut with style.
Hold his hand:
be okay…
Just for tonight,
Beauty Princess,
just for tonight.

The act of growing up?

She just wants to be touched,
have someone reach out and grab her…
Make her feel like she’s worth the pain…
Let her know she can make someone
feel that way.
She puts herself out there;
she knows one thing:
she isn’t ready.
But everyone else is doing it!
Maybe this is what it means to grow up…
She doesn’t know but she will,
she will because she’ll be hurt:
and she will be scarred;
and she will be damaged;
and she will be broken;
But that’s the only way
someone like her will learn.

Baby Girl

A father to one;
but a father he is none.
Caring for a little child
whose mother is wild.
He really loves to do this,
and to him, she is his goddess.
But his wife is sad:
she had no child – makes her mad.
Well, she had a baby,
might make contact one day… maybe.
For now the three struggle
because they keep it legal.
When girly grows tall
she might fall
like her mother did –
left nothing but an empty cupboard.
Hence life is tough;
all just try to bluff.

Enigma Girl

We all see her walk into the room –
her head held high and her smile
as radiant as the sun.
She swirls around the room
like a sweet addictive scent
and everyone is drawn to her,
birds to nectar.
We feed off her radiance and get
high off her fumes of fun
and swoon all the way to
the land of fantasy and
please-be-with-me.
She’s worse than cocaine
and sweeter than sugared honey drops.
She holds her own and makes even
the biggest of us feel
minute.

But when it comes to love
she seems to be careful who
to let into her world…
Because she has been hurt
by the one before
(who was the first).
She’s an enigma gypsy
running away from the feelings
that unlock the doors of that pain
and she refuses to be vulnerable again.

She frustrates all of us because
we cannot get into her life as
deeply as we all want to.
And it seems like she wants us
to come to that place but then
she slams the door in our faces
and we stand with broken noses,
shattered hearts but somewhere
I realise it’s not her fault.

And so they keep running after her
and she doesn’t understand why…
She breaks her mirror in fury and
cries a river of confusion to wash
away her insecurity which always
return in showers.

She is blessed, however, and she knows,
she knows that she is special in some way.
One day she will receive the package
she ordered in her dreams and she’ll be

free of her chains!

The Girl Who Lived

Both hands slip down and pick the purple rose from the green bush;
Sun shining, reflecting the light back at the world it warms.
Soft hands retract, sparkling eyes glint like stars;
Fingers twirl it, arms bring beauty closer.
Soft lips form a curve of satisfaction;
Eyelids slide gently over sight.
Nose drinks sweet air of life;
Skin dances and glints.
Heart beats lovingly;
Life slows.
Bliss.