Call me Pinocchio, if you will.
Going to school gives me no thrill,
and my worst enemy,
a cricket named Jiminy,
I'm about ready to kill.
It's hard to comprehend.
Pinocchio was my best friend.
A little boy so good,
made into firewood.
Such a tragic end.
Like a puppet in a sense, I loosely hang here
Getting images of feelings in color. Bold, timely, revere.
A string from the thought to a brush in hand.
I trace and I move in unison per my command.
Swaying and twisting my wrists with love
Looking for a nod I’ve impressed master above.
Thankful for the gift given to me
To transmute love by design. Tuned harmony.
I don’t always understand the direction
but there’s a knowing in my strings. there’s a connection!
It’s not a game. I’m not playing. Nor am I a toy.
It’s an honor, a badge, a duty.
I’m a real boy.
-Jalaila Hardy
Back in grade school, I played many a game...
with my best friend. Pinocchio was his name.
He was not quite like any other child.
Perhaps, it was the fixed way he smiled.
When he skinned his knee, I saw no blood.
When he fell, I only heard a clack or thud.
He owned a dog - a mallard duck decoy,
and had more soul than any other boy.
~ Reminiscent of 'Where have you gone,
Joe Dimaggio,' from the soundtrack
of the movie, 'The Graduate.' ~
Where have you gone, O Pinocchio
a nation turns its aching heart to you
Fi-fie-phoo…
Though you became a donkey
wooden head, check out Mamdani
~ He’s the stubborn mule
Hey there fella, buy a fella a...(Uhh)...a drink?
I got me somethin' to say...Oh...thank you Pardner...you saved my life!
(AAH!)...(burp!)
You might not believe it...but I used to be...(Yawn!)...FAMOUS!
I helped clean up Tombstone with Wyatt (BURP!)...Scuse me!...EARP!
Once I swapped lead with Wild Bill (HICCUP!)... Bill (HICCUP!)...Wild Bill (HICCUP!)...HICKOCK!!!
I sang for the James Gang like a jailbird sings for...(Uhh!)...Smoke!
Hell, I even...dallied Cala...mity...(YAWN!)...jane...
I road her like Sea (zzzzz!)...like sea (zzzzz!)...bis...quit!
That's right...fella...I done...it all...and I...could tell...you...a...thing...or...(ZZZZZ!)
Promises are shown as silhouettes to the world
even if it's madness - the people have spoken
No one feels guilty for how things turn out
Respect withers
the ears shrink
Black and white perspective
emotionally closed
Remember that hatred is born from the veil of ignorance
- human beings have only temporarily managed to forget it
Pinocchio why do you
Continue to lie all the time
Knowing that when you do
Your nose just grows and grows
Until it gets cut off
Pinnochio dragman brought the circus class
With his painted purple shoes and his bit of sass
He is a fancy one someone was wise to say
I agreed automatically, watching him enjoy his day
Some tried to make fun, but he would have none of that.
He knows himself, and confidently wears a silly hat.
Pinnochio dragman is my hero, he does not get ruffled.
He sent the instigator packing, irritated and truffled.
Life Should Be Like Disneyland
Life should be like Disneyland,
Everyday a little bit of Never Never Land,
Dreams fill your heart,
They give us a new start,
A delightful way to fill the day,
Mickey Mouse and Minnie Mouse,
Spread happiness your way,
And my way,
They lift you out of the doldrums,
Of everyday life,
All the pain and strife,
But then we get swept away
Into something dreamy,
Cinderella, finds her Prince,
Her slipper is the imprint,
She and the Prince,
Will live happily ever after,
The Prince and Cinderella truly matter,
Life for Pinocchio was a bit trying,
He often did a lot of crying,
But Jimminy Cricket
Showed him the way,
And Pinocchio found happiness
In every day,
So, life in Disneyland
It is so grand,
Life should be a Never, Never Land.
Celine Rose Mariotti
Pinocchio spies scissors -
no strings attached or just a mere puppet?
He carried the old man into the woods
to watch the body slowly decay.
The sun, wind and rain
prepared Geppetto's corpse
until it was fit to be new growth
for the soil
Pinocchio watched patiently,
the trees did not mourn, and the puppet could not.
He had seen children cry and wondered why?
A time came when he simply had to be still;
to feel what the trees felt.
Eventually he himself turned tree-ish.
Decades pasts,
a woodsman chopped him down,
for he was much taken by its human form –
a quirk of growth no doubt.
He thought to himself:
I could make a doll for my daughter
out of this four limbed
stump of a thing.
The wood is too seasoned, the grain hoary.
the moppet has grown insane,
its wood now riddled with timeless lies.
A cat in a dark corner will not look at it.
Mice cower under its grim shadow.
In a twilit kitchen an old man mumbles
as he gums a boiled egg
while deranged eyes peer through walls.
Pinocchio is old,
he has been set on a hook.
fibrous sinews dangle
from his notched frame.
knotted veins grind together
inside the oaken cage of his chest.
Made to imitate and deceive
he has become what we dare not look upon:
a hollowness within a dead core.
In the potbellied stove,
logs pray with crackling flames
hope to never become that thing
that hangs and glares,
a wood wormed ruination,
its painted adolescence flaking now
to a crackbrained fantoccini
gone feral.
If politicians were like Pinocchio,
how long would you see their noses grow?
I wanna be a tree
A big ‘ol block of wood
Just swayin’ in the breeze
Suckin’ in the bad air and
Letting out the good
With squirrels climbing all over
My branches tickling me
Birds nesting
Bugs munching
Flowers blooming
Fruits budding
A man snaps a limb that’s in
His face
That’s how I feel pain
I wanna be a tree
I know why leaves leave
Just Nature callin’
Squirrels never turn their back or
Promise the world
Or break your heart
A tree never knows
Crying….
All alone because you’re
All alone
Wood has knots and it’s ok
But a stomach hurts
Not wood
A tree weathers the storm and love
Creates one
God seems to leave
Mother Nature alone yet
Mettle
In the affairs of Man on a daily basis
I wanna be a tree
A big ol’ block of
wood
While Pinocchio wanted to be a boy
He didn’t know how lucky he was
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