mannequin dummy has a maniacal smile
as if he knows more than I
I take him to a resale shop
his grin staring at me in my car
I feel guilty relief handing him over
but he is a plotter
he one-ups me
a relative purchases him
my birthday surprise
he cannot stop grinning
The fear I feel is real
The pain I have to hide
Frozen in a silent scream
All motion is denied
A suit to cloak my cuts
This sacrificial goat
A belt across my back
A tie around my throat
Behind this pane of glass
No one can see me cry
Each day drones on and on
While the crowd passes by
So come a little closer
You'll see just who I am
I'm both your whipping boy
And your Mannequin Man
She speaks in camouflage
Concealing feelings and responses
A perfect porcelain face
Stiff, peachy and straight
Her eyes and chin give away nothing
She is a great poker player
No tells
Her complexion is nearly plastic
She is more mannequin than woman
Mannequin Man
Very sadly, a cleaner in
Kerry & Peter Department
Store in
Elmwood Mall, that asleep
Mannequin Man displayed clothes in,
remembered he was half man hours after she’d stuffed him in the big incinerator bin.
A Fantasy
There was I, forgotten in the attic.
Mannequin discarded, ready for demolition.
Cracks everywhere with some rags thrown on
Haphazardly over me like a scarecrow.
Suddenly all lights went out, an outage.
Immediately the generators went off but failed.
In the attic, the air went into a trembling atmosphere
Thunder boomed and lightning filled the room.
An electrical power surge lit everywhere.
Suddenly I felt alive and began to walk, rags and all.
There were other mannequins, so completely ruined,
Some in good shape. But one caught my attention
As she walked towards me. The static turned into music.
May the last waltz last forever. I took her in my embrace,
The dance began, not a word was spoken just gestures.
Mentally I counted one, two. three, around the attic.
Occasionally I twirled her around on her toes,
Suddenly the lights went on and we all went back
To where we were initially, rags and all.
Some people came to inspect the attic and said:
We must get rid of these mannequins once and for all.
She was movie star quality
Put on plenty of airs
He was more down to earth
into sports
They were forced to share a window
They are looking at me! She said gleefully.
He knew they were watching him.
But he kept this to himself.
Careful to not lose his temper
For that is when he transmogrified
And ghosts are always supposed to stay a bit elusive
right?
She was prancing around now.
Highly emotional.
There was a scream.
That’s on you, he told her.
Divas are never careful.
The mannequins put on skin
pretending to be human
feigning familiarity
with lives they’ve never lived
performing a pantomime
of proficiency in poverty
the wisdom won from doing without
playing the part of people
they consider inconsequential
believe are below them
with whom it would be unsuitable
to be seen socializing
unworthy of a welcoming word
as they parade about
before the cameras and crowds
bedecked in diamonds and gold
silk gowns and Armani suits
whose value would feed
more than a few struggling families
Contemptible creatures
Heinous and hollow
I envy the stylish model
her styrofoam perfect breasts
those legs that never need shaving
the sweet smile that needs no rest
the hair that’s always behaving
the pose that teasingly arrests
she’s a icon of current fashion
a flower neatly pressed
but no love will ever find her
no one cares if she’s undressed
she’ll never accomplish anything
never mind - I’m not impressed
MUSE OF MY PAIN
you are who
you are, and I
love you so...
Thousand times i
said
at your feet
crouched... in
your impassivity
you didn't hear,
you didn't speak, neither
complained...
nor
laugh...
You are woman, that
it caused amazement!
listen, quiet now...
How did you do so much...
occasionally
I remember that you
did not listen
no song,
no pain, no
crying...
you only live
thus...
your live
as mannequin...
at your showcase...!
Words will flood like torrents raging,
Deep immersed in waters wild;
Languishing in languages
Of liquid pools of prose,
Each time a laughing mannequin
Would somehow dare suppose.
They walk along with voice on leash,
Leading the park with cannibalistic eyes,
Bending over benches waiting,
For the next remark.
Together sharing repartee
For all they may experience
Between their cups of tea.
And when the tea is gone
And day is done
They read each other's tea leaves
Just for fun.
And words will flood like torrents raging
Deep immersed in waters wild,
Bragging their experience;
Their late night, early morning laughter
Left uncaging.
They will stop with you,
Exchanging dreams,
Amidst the clattering of the glasses;
Voice unpacked, and weakly fumbling,
For their answers;
Never knowing that the question
May go yet unasked,
And they be left at shallows end,
Naked and unmasked.
And words will flood like torrents raging
Deep immersed in waters wild.
mannequin
more I look away
not do ever have to say
the stillness so stocks
alas my resistance starts
you who are dead to me, move
11/23/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
Virtue is to have excellent morality;
An admirable quality or property.
Holy Angels are virtues of order.
Like, Samson, a man of excellent valor.
Virtue is to clothe oneself with Jesus Christ;
Like, Arnor on a hero or royal knight.
God's righteousness is virtuous light;
Like, stars shining very bright.
A Jesus freak is a control freak;
A dummy that knows nothing of being meek.
A dummy has no sight;
A dummy can't even fight.
A dummy might say "Jesus is Satan";
Wearing nothing or just satin.
A dummy is worse than dead;
That walks like a zombie with no head.
True virtue is doing God's will and answering his call;
Mannequin virtue is fake, not having a life at all.
Dreams leak out of my mannequin head
My twisted plastic limbs are sprawled out on my bed
My expression ever frozen, in a dramatic pose
I'm not biodegradable but I want to decompose
A glue drop on my cheek to emulate a tear
I've been here 10 minutes or maybe 10 years
Kind-hearted displays never was
part of her intrinsic, fashionable support view
Genuine concern often got the facial window dressing ...
Feelings dismissively expressed
with distant half-smiles of plastic disaffection
In sad times of other people’s tragedy,
the principal thing
was to show some synthetic sympathy
Walk into a somber room,
and with vacant, steely eyes
support the teary-cheek weak knees
Giving the smallest comfort measure of
a little false posing empathy
In someone else’s vulnerable moments of need,
her self-interest
was simply to deliver lip-service compassion usury
Talk like a mannequin ...
sealed lips don’t ever open up to share,
expressing minimal, wooden emotions over the telephone
Walk like a mannequin ...
confessing to be moved enough to care,
she only gives the slightest effort to help someone move on
Never wanting to get too involved personally,
or let the on-lookers see too deep intimately
Mannequin skin feelings,
possessing a harden body of plastic emotions
Synthetic thoughts hidden —
seen only on display,
when her exit doors of naked truth are closing
Oh, once again! A cry!
Two-legged creatures
Making love under sheets
and that last sigh!
A mannequin releasing
its last plastic breath!
:: 12-15-2017 ::
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