The Ballerina #5
I loved your curved little fingers,
But I loved them more on the trigger
And when I was done loving you,
All they found was a canine tooth,
(Drums)
Your hands,
Once elegant and simple,
Are now laying at my feet,
You dance for him,
But you refused to dance for me,
Now those elegant hands,
Are laying at my feet,
You were still beautiful,
While you were crying,
You were still beautiful,
When I was cutting,
I raped you in the woods,
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poem by Abby Kimball
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1348
Biggest insult is ordinary,
Pleasant day off shore,
Pose a threat of irony,
For the rich and their whores,
The silent hum of wanting,
Giant roars of loathing,
The lady wants but shows no proof,
Gentlemen desperately hide their insecurities,
In their youth,
Thigh muscles flex,
A finger tells all,
The nakedness of the opposite sex,
Interrupted by a desperate call,
The man is balding now,
He stoops to low to take a bow,
The woman laughs nervously,
As she takes a final curtsey,
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poem by Abby Kimball
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Bend to Our Will
Society bends you to your will,
But no one said you had to obey,
Corporate predators going for the kill,
Blank checks and missing days,
Don’t worry kids,
We’re all masochists,
And blind narcissists,
Most of us pessimists,
A rare wide eyed optimist,
Understanding concepts of irony,
Young dreams promptly buried,
Finally my wounded eyes can see,
Exactly what you’ve been trying to do to me,
Raping the concepts of reality,
Censorship in place for human behavior,
Technology with intent of nurturing,
Waiting for an invisible savor,
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poem by Abby Kimball
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Canine Youth
When I was young,
I was followed everywhere I would go,
Blamed for advanced thinking,
Rebellion with snow,
Our jeans,
Were washed in the rain,
As dry as our innocence at 16,
Our hearts remained free and untrained,
Judgment remained askew,
We learned to touch lips,
As softly as Queen Anne’s lace blew,
In the wind,
Of course not as beautiful,
I came home,
Some purple skied nights,
On my own,
Simply to be held by my mom,
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poem by Abby Kimball
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