a song of mine

i am the patron saint of lost souls

you be right and i'll be alone
i only want what i can own
i won't take what's not there
i'm a thief, a thief who's fair

(glory be)

i hit my head, real hard
gave up my home, let down my guard
can't remember how i fell,
or who i love - ah, it's swell

(glory be)

they say i killed seven girls
raped their mates and kept their curls
though i don't feel any guilt
i'm in this cage that they built

(glory be)

i watch them beat me and i wonder why
pride's so important beneath the sky

they put my mistakes on display
in townsquare, in the light of day
they all scoffed in disgust and shock
and taunted me with a key and lock


(glory be)

a pregnant mind, my dreams are wild
i could never guess the father's child
my mind is blank and my heart is full
i can feel it kick, i can taste the pull

(glory be)

"what fools they are", i sigh to the moon
to think their mistakes won't hit them too

and don't pointed fingers know so well
the twists and turns that lead to hell?
"forgive me father for i have sinned"
i whispered with ease as i grinned

(glory be)

my skin, it changed, one moonlit night
slipped through the bars and out of sight
and now i'm free, though pushed away
rejection is a small price to pay

(glory be)

the past seven me's didn't have to die
said they'd redeem me if i could cry
but pretty faces shouldn't pry
and god, oh, god, you should've tried

down there you can't hear my song
singin', "i was truth, to be so wrong"
as i'm floating above the mountain's peak
he tries to joke, tears choking speech

you paid to have me crucified
you thought i'd rise and be your bride
so, you be right and i'll be alone
my back is turned, i found my throne.

(glory be)
(glory be)
(glory be)

© Copyright Miss Carly Marie 2008-2012

that's what i hear

wandering children of rare breeds

that's you, not enough

my broken tooth
you'd think joy
would glide alongside
truth

instead, happiness' bastard child
strolls wild with commerce

and they tell me to move on
and prove i'm gone
they tell me with wide grins,
winks, gestures and pins

drunken, slobbery passes
that lose their molasses in a rush
and you just begin to feel,
taste, smell and gush
ugliness

and oh, the depths
how very unappealing
all that work
revealing
all the sacrifice
all the kneeling

no sorry's,
the only glory that's stuck
with me for weeks
is a line,
whispered by an
old, blind gentleman:
"i was only free
when i was in love."

and that i better be willing
to steal, cheat, lie and deny myself
to hold a man down

that i better catch the light the right way
that i better wake up looking lovely
that i better calm down
that i better not shake the ground
that i better not point out elephants in small rooms
that i better not crawl toward the fever

because then
i will not receive anything
from the weaver

i look in the mirror and neglect the griever
and when my hope is the
only part of me that is awake
i elope with myself on tippy-toes
and i blurt out a stern "no."

no, to your conditions

fuck you to those conditions
fuck sitting around and wishing

and that's me, too much

© Copyright Miss Carly Marie 2008-2012

i'm a girl

my little prayer

i was meant to be loved, inextricably
and without apprehension
i was meant to be held, firmly
more specifically at the hip
and by the hand

i was meant to be paid attention to
without interruption
and i was meant to pay attention in
return
to give and to nurture
heart, pleasure and loyalty

so tell me now,
why am i constantly bombarded
by the Sons of Cowardice?
why do you test me,
if not just to break my spirit?

i am aware that i am
incapable
of being more aware
than my brain allows me to be

it is good for everyone
when i am adored
everyone will win
when i am adored
so don't break my spirit
anymore

© Copyright Miss Carly Marie 2008-2012

"i'm selfish, impatient, and a little insecure. i make mistakes, i am out of control, and at times hard to handle; but if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best."
- marilyn monroe

"if you think i'll let you pull me down to
your third class communication
and bulldoze over all my sensitivities,
you've read me all wrong."
-bjork

the plague of beauty and people who act like their shit don't stink

the butcher's fairytale

i lash myself when there's no one else around
guilt like a herd pounding on the gorge's ground
dug up a tombstone with a dynamite stick
blew up the flowers and did a magic trick

i could peel her cosmetics off like a layer of fur
she buys things she loves 'cause no one loves her
a cheese grater scraped her face, she didn't even bleed
a broken shield, crumbling, from a rose to a weed

judgment is a tidal wave with a strict protocol
we follow what is false, now its engraved in our skulls
deep distortion, an old religion, slithering into the Agenda
el carnicero escribió nuestras oraciones en su trastienda

the real ugliness is not in your wrinkles or your scars
but it may be in the twinkle in the eyes of the stars
for the envy it extracts and the delusions it does cause
morale goes deaf quickly, drowning in loud applause

approval from the masses has rarely been quite right
so, why do you feel pressure to be accepted in their light?
fashion got greedy, you're not yourself but you belong
to a Majority of Emptiness without loyalty or song

and still, no one swoons over the disfigured face of a boy
whose father beat him 'til there was nothing left to destroy
or the girl who was raped and therefore without purity
is she dirtier than you, watching celebrities in obscurity?

how will your clan recognize you if you mute your true tones
and water down the words humans crafted out of moans?
our brains took gibberish and made language out of clutter
and your main concern is your consumption of butter

so, bring me the disfigured boy and the girl who was violated
send me the broken, the hated, the sad and sedated
the fat and the ugly and the gassy pimple-popper
the disregarded, the unwanted and the delightfully improper

we'll start an army of truth; their products, we'll steal
weakness revealed when they lose the power to conceal
we can gather their perfumes and use it as fuel for flame
to burn their fancy shoes and their airbrushed shame

and think of all the resources we'll be able to save
when the demand for supply digs it's own grave
animal testing would end and silence the protestors
farmers would be kings, not slaves or mad jesters

the vain running to reclaim what they so desperately need
only to find their monstrosities unveiled as they plead
"we are our obsessions; give us back our possessions!"
but there will be nothing left to nourish their deceptions

just a big jumble of bodies, all bare and revealed
a mess of confusion in a dewy green field
beauty will then be judged by the way a soul glows
and the luminosity of justice will prevail and expose

as it were intended, we'd be barefoot and nude
no worries of being rejected, no reason to be rude
we'd see each other and realize we're birds of a feather
laughing around the fire, just us and the weather

© Copyright Miss Carly Marie 2008-2012