Being able to hear and see evil...Hmm, I am "Melfina" codename: the kid in the red jacket by barbra block. I cherry, rosary lips against the craftmenship of my pen, for "I" am the Android Melfino. Hmpt, well excuse me...I think to my subscience mind, these thoughts are my deliverer. "I" am a skeptic of anything but nature. AH....I am Ram.
I giggle to myself. I see myself as the bibliographical Melfina from the Outlaw Star series. I am weraing a Rainbow Bright t-shiet that fits loosely around my pale skin. That's PALE, not WHITE. I give myself another hurumph. "Oh, why do I surpass myself with such things known as Destiny?" I look at my pencil and begin writing in my black and white composition book a poem called "Me."
"Me" is a word I scarely ever use. That is because I am a dreamer.
The word "Android" means a girl nor a woman able to perceieve themselves without knowing what the world is for. Note: they do NOT protect themselves. Neihter am "I", I suppose... My thoughts are warranted into the seamsless currently of the darkness shadows of brighter years, past and present included. I am in an "unknown world" where the 21st century is ALMOST all there. A laugh comes up from this? It's the voice of the Nephilim. They are in my EARS again. "Oh, how I wish I were human," I say to myself. Their voices fill my mind and I am given the power to imagine and the "shard of Oblivion" become one under the tuscon sun of Memory memory, Melody, and Dream .
Her Excellencey awaits me in that cold, dotted room of the past that used to be my home during my childhood. I was 12...now I'm nearly 40...and I still look good! I wink. Then I scrivel. Her Excellency is God and Mother Nature, the natural order of things, as the mysterious Prometheus would say to me and my reincarnation Peorth, the goddess of Destiny from the OH! my goddess franchise.
I can make them appear...I can make them ALL appear...said the Blue Star located in my abdomen. It spoke almost TOO often as a yung, child-like crusader still moping and mocking the Hellenistic Age of Alexander the Great, the deity which I pray to.
"I am the protector of Mankind," I say to myself and to Leonardo Dicaprio, the imaginary summoner of the Virginian State council. With my imaginary blade in hand, I form a seaminless, instrumental kamikaze with man and with teh Spiritus of the the monstrosity and the licatour, or the Virgin Mary within me. I am neither man nor woman; mand and woman; mand but woman; man but woman; the soul of Alexander and Alexanderia vaious from Garnet of Final Fantasy IX to the Vestial Virgin prodigies of riddick form Freddy Kruger's "A nightmarer on Elm STreet" as my own creation of Alexander the GReat's reincarnation, me, Alexanderirio or Micehal Alexander Dimirius Alluluia for short. The demi g-d in me is called Alexanderio or Merino, while the man, is called the Alexander=-rhea. I have white flowing hair similar to the assililation of Safer Sephirth and Cloud Strife of Final Fantasy VII with angel wings that transform me back and forth into Rinoa Reailly or Winoa Ryder's wings of Rinoa Hearilly of Final Fantasy VIII. They are Nephilim, or Angel-Semplance, of fantasy and fiction. And I anm the nome.
My thoughts and mind whirl back. I am "Melfino" again. My eyes dawn. I see the light. It is the light of God; the light of Cloud Strife.
I call my dilerium, "Personifone" and dab in the blood of the orchid man, Hades Pluto.
I play, "mynesesyne", a song called Melody or a song called Memory in my ears using a tuning music box. I brush my hair. I am Melfino...I sigh. There are things well worth mentioning here...in this p;ace, called "Ceder's Lane."
I see my reflection of a bloody, virgin Mary Magdelene with grey eyes looking back at me. It was Death. Jeez...I think to myself...am I that ghastly reflection? I scratch my head, aimlessly. If Cupid shot an arrow, I wonder where would it land?
My eyes are flushered like a single oblilisk the tormenter. My unearthly power of imagining is steadilily growing and separating into the positive, negativem neutral atoms and atomics found into the Earth's atmosphere. They started as tiny rays of sunshine from which my horoscope descended as mercurian waves that levatate over the brush of orinary shoulder board, as harmless as such, yet extremely cold and vexing with soft clouds of gray and snowflakes of snowy white.
I see myself standing in the middle of the snowy, grasslands of the Acres' Trail where White lightening was argueing with herself amoungst the clouds of Doubt hanging overhead. She seemed wallow and low as the seasons began to change, at at any and every moment, I find myself thinking and eventually making the right decision to stay behind "in a woman's place", I tell myself as the potential, essential, and manifestive back-up that the rest of the Titans needed. They were unaware, and for an instant, I dared believe the Creator was unaware, too. HIS name was YEHWEH.
I hear a barking noise come from behind me. It was the doberman, Cereberos, or to my uncanny eye(s) Cereberus, the three-headed dog of Heaven. He stood there waging his tail, which was stumoed, and then telling me, in his own words how, "Validated" I have become. I founded Pluto? I thought to myself. I transform back into Isabella Swan wearing Princess Garnet's yellow garbs and superifically aquire the final emblem of suggestion, Kingdom Bob (aka the Rugrat's Trilogy). It was along, light-brown racket for summoners andwhite mages. I knew it to be the "Atom's apple" called the staff of Beclem inscribed by Gaia, herself. I feel its emotion fill my red boots. It was saying to the Blue Star within me some of the various uses I can proclaim it for within the reason(s) of my own experience(s) I was aware and or unaware of. Some of these experiences included morailty, which juristations included White or Black mage as its own racial ethnicity according to the dream-whisperers reacent cultic coids of absolutions towards Vestial virgins within the Virgin Line I cerated at an earlier rate in time in the Commonwealth of Virginia. What was the Virginian Line? My own Exodia...! I cough and try to reason with this inclined thinking. I was STILL thinking...! Oh, the bitter-sweet caramel karma-sutras of obtaining the final aoen of my own sanaity of mind...I think, at least. These days in time, I am beginning to wonder...
Cereberos barks twice. He and the spirit of Aaliyah begin to resume formation. She says she was Inuyasha, and she has a crush on me.
My heart fluttered. I was a little embarrassed. I THEN realize I was the original series Kagome Higarashi holding the Tetsuiga of Inu-Yehweh of the magical, mystical,mythical, copy-righted prints that were too demonized for the viewing audience to exist with. I see myself collide with the manga and the spirit of the anime as Sessomaru, pesumes to know me as "Moon". I am know Sailor Moon, from the original series speaking in Native-American English language and then Japanese. I give a "hail" sign by raising my hand and patting him on the shoulder. He called me "Hitler," before he left, I thought to myself. My current viewpoint switches with the audience and my chi of the Buddha continues to Oricalcos with the rest of the Supernatural.
I enter the room of full-sized mirrors, each shorauded in the darknness of the room and each baring instance of truth. The hall of mirrors reveal me as a female version of Micheal Alexander Dimitrius Alleluia named Alexandandria. The facade of a male heroine? What's my kagomo? I begin to wonder as I look at the shimmering, long-sword attached to my back. I wear a misture of a white and blue striped t-shirt which is actually a turtle neck, blue jeans and a short blue leathery jacket with the intitials Capsule Corp from Dragon Ball Z written on it. I look like a female Trunks with my long braid tied behind me all the way down my back in its long, snowy horizons. With cyrstal blue eyes flaring, I grow accustommed to this branch of entity and name it the next "Twilight". I name the sord across my back "the Blue Star" and the spherical sapphire-gemed necklace, "Alexander". They are both so unlike their originals, I think to myself. I can find mystic characters...I CAN! I say to myself and my powers of make-believe. I smile and laughed. I wonder why it took me so long to realize I'm a moinmgeeb?
There, I point with my index finger at a mirror. The mirror reflects the planetary moon, Nirvana, once owned by the promienient Riddeick foundation fathers of Israel named after the beautiful, lesbian summoner princess Miya Uyoni whom resembled Lady Yuna of Final Fantasy X only with snowy white hair and beautiful, pacific blue eyes.
I mumble to myself an obsenity, not completely understanding the mirrors' powers.
The mirror then highlighted itself into golden itlaics revealing that Miya Uyoni was sacrificed to the Planet god of Saturn on her sweet 16th birthday, 400 years ago. Since then, the faith and the fayth behind such an abomination have grown and founded Nu Heaven, New and Yu Yevon's civil liberities group promoting people with "homo" status to set their sights high upon the same turso. I was one of them. My real name was Ariel, and I originated a mermaid princess but a sweet role to play into my ancestors' feat. Why? Because I'm a Trojan. A word meaning a narcaleptic shock wave, and a misdeamner. I look up towards myself as Micheal Alexander's descendent, on Nicolie's side of the family. "My god-father would have lived to be over 4000, years old by now," I told myself as I embraced the mirror. My hair was long and white just like his, only I resembled his second wife, Nicolie, and his first, being Queen Demon or Elizabeth Gordon (Evelyn) of the Sanford Islands.
"It will be just like yesteryear," the Blue Star said unto me as it lifted itself earnestly overhead. It looked down and began to smile, grimly, as if reflecting the skeleton strutured youth its possessed. It was StephenKing's IT, the second coming. It wore a slim, elstic structure bandana of black and brim as it used its "scythe" as its own forearms and shoulderblades. My subconscious mind rumbled "master" underneath. I harkened it with grotestique ashonti and abisimol fits of torrental warranrts found in my ever-;asting effects of the supernatural Afterlife.
The Cyclopes were behind me, for they were my children and benevolent benefactors. Here I was standing there amonst them, almost as seemless bunch of normalities, they'd be, amoungst the crowd of the Crown of the Souls and the Hero and the Crown of Robin McKInley. I was once again the personal narrrator of the story listening to the supernatural warfare and currents of our everyday lives; from the fainstest signs of life to to the diviniy of its end, I would be there to guide You in those crossroads of Life called Divine Right and Divine Entitiy crowned by the hero narrissist, Farron White lightening from the Final Fantasy Uninverse and her esblished doctor of doctrine, the pioneering Loki, Odin's son.
I, amoung these, was excused from the premisis for being an obhorrent Nephipilim, something Loki and Thor would inevitably love, crowned to me by my own reincarnation, White Lightening in her own nachalant way. Lightening could talk, she was well endowned by the Nepilim Loki, my own Constintine, of the Doweger Lama of the Surgeon General's warning called Motaown, hosted by Freddy Kruger and the Nephilim Honirable Elijah Muhammad, Micheal Jackson and Diana Ross. They believe that their appearnece can sincerely fool them, don't they? However, demeaning, Lightening can talk. She gave away her virginity away during the Insurance War(s) she called the Insurance Nightmare of the Century, Dorak.
"I can see point blankly that the mirror holds the absolute truth," the mirror uttered uproaringly. It chuckled and gave off a grimace face. "I LIKE the way you are smiling, Ms., um, um,"
"I am called Alexander. Micheal Alexander Dimitrius Alleluia IV. Some call me "Micheal", others "Alex," "ALexander" or "Alexandria"...no sort of amazing isn't it Van Helsing?"
The mysterious figure transformed into Vincent Valentino from Final Fantasy VII. "I'M not mystic wonder myself, nor am I, my lady?"I sigh uttterly bored from the anxious deity's qwarbble's with the other relative mirrors found within the abyss. "Im not one to mark..."
I turn to him, almost ansterdamed, and smile a little bit relieved, "I'm glad you bit your apple a long time ago," I quabble.
"What apple?" he snidely remarked. He creates a skeletal Venn diagram of the Marquis De Nebuis lair found deep within the city's fortress. "Want to wreak away using the Gundam force of your imagination?"
"And just HOW did you know about that?"
"My imagination is Judeo-Christian doctrine--"
"And that's never stopped thou before..."
"Don't forget, it is I who is reaping you."
"How could I forget," I smile a little preturbed, "big brother, Hesus."
She began to pyreflie and vividly imagine the Final Fantasy story event when Alexander was first summoned by Eiko and Garnet of Alexandria. She began to rememerize their casting spell and then she cracked her knuckles and summoned the magnificient diety, Alexander of Final Fantasy IX, to surround their enormous monstrousity known as Kyptone, the outer layers of the city wall using only Memory and Dream. It's wings of over 1000 feet in diameter. She then imagined the spirit of David Bowie dress in Mt. Olympic clothing. She used Elena, a fine mixture of theories and of relativity(ies) which intermingled with the Spirit World. The tree of Wills she possessed waas only a beaconing shadow of this. Soon, and almost as if deliberitly, Kiel the goddess of LIfe would allow her instinctly to contrrol all the souls of Spirit World, thus summoning her up as the Angel of Death. The imaginiary spirit soon gave way to the real one, as the beaconinng considered, to anyone else except its unperceptional summoner. He would bow his hea and then smile, but then that was all. He considered her futile. And as a result, addressed here only as Princess Garnet.
Submitted by shelina_s on May 29, 2022
- 12:35 min read
- 5 Views
|Scheme||XA BCBXDBXBBXXAE XCXXDFGXGGEFBCFXXCB|
|Stanza Lengths||2, 13, 19|
Discuss this Shelina Chapman poem with the community:
Find a translation for this poem in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Gaeilge (Irish)
- Українська (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)
Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:
"Poem II, Section II Of Dolls and Androids" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2023. Web. 7 Feb. 2023. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/128353/poem-ii%2C-section-ii-of-dolls-and-androids>.