I'm not an 'ingénue' anymore - that’s been vitiated.
I'm not innocent, pure, naive or vulnerable -
which are technically, 'ingénue' requirements
(I don’t make the rules).
That being said, if no one has an objection,
in terms of narrative trajectory, I'd like to be
considered a 'fémme fatale' until further notice.
.
.
Songs for this:
HEATED by Beyoncé
Hysterical Us by Magdalena Bay
Categories:
ingenues, humor, student, truth,
Form: Free verse
The me that you see’s just a face that I wear.
You have no idea what’s really on my mind.
The me of my soul regards you over there
As sly and elusive, your intentions undefined.
The me that you see stands a distance apart
From you coyly playing the role of a shrew.
The I of my mind steers a sensible course
By sidestepping driftwood and hazards like you.
You’ve been casting incantations
With your coven of dark ingenues.
I've been busy myself, pounding down my intentions,
Hammering a hard wrought point of view;
I don't need any more you.
As it is, it’s just grist for the mill.
But it leaves me with one thing I know,
We made as fine a couple
As Mr. Miller and Ms. Monroe.
Now take me off your mailing list.
I'll gladly burn your cards and letters, too.
We gave our torrid fling a New York minute.
It’s sad, but I can’t deal with any more you.
THIS SPACE REVERVED FOR
JOLTIN' JOE
Categories:
ingenues, allegory, romance,
Form: Burlesque
The Chestnut observed man
as he bent the Figs boughs
and pulled off her fruit
as nature allows
He opened his mouth
in order to feast
and tore at the fruit
with his hard stony teeth
“Less protected than I”
The Chestnut exclaimed
“See how my offspring hold close to my frame.
Outside they’re protected with a fortress spines
while inside of their carp they are soft linen lined.
To the hand of the man, we do not fall prey
and end up his banquet, his food or buffet.”
The Fig and her young started to laugh
Man is ingenues, you stupid old sod
He’ll have you fruit and he wont spare the rod
He’ll throw stakes and stones into you crown
and all of your children will come tumbling down,
to be broken and trampled and maimed my man’s feet
and emerge from their armor in total defeat.
You think your nipes better?
Better than mine?
Simply because they carry a spin?
While gently we’re touched by the harvester’s hand
Your saps will know nothing but the violence of man.
Categories:
ingenues, anger, angst, best friend,
Form: ABC
Shannon,
I knew her in
middle school
friends caught
somewhere between
being children, pre-teen
adults.
We jumped with
a wooden handled rope
across the stage
in Tom Sawyer.
1890's leather
and petticoats
galloping and swishing
against exposed
pale thin knobbed
ankles.
Crossed stage right
to stage left,
cued when Tom and
Becky kissed.
Growing shannon
learned to kiss dangerous
exciting men.
Coccaine and Vodka
replaced petticoats
and plays. I heard
years later of the haunted
whispers of such a childs
fate.
Death stole her at the
age of twenty after
nightly slaps - screams
from one of her
immoral un-ingenues.
Shannon Stopped.
Stopped skipping,
laughing, playing,
acting.
She hung herself from a
rusty fire escape in a
little city alley with the
same wooden handled
jump rope at midnight
in march's icy rain.
Categories:
ingenues, angst, childhood, death, life,
Form: Free verse