Leah Ayliffe

Gold Star - 6,163 Points (June 8,1991 / Toronto)

Little Fool - Poem by Leah Ayliffe

I don’t know how to straddle this sphere between here and there
What is here inside my mind
Inside my world
Compared to their ideas on what is good, what is right.
I don’t fit in with right.
I don’t form the shape of good.
I know to be good is just a thought, a notion of the man who makes the rules.
Like Daisy says in Gatsby… the only saving grace to being a girl is to be a beautiful little fool,
Otherwise you walk against the grain.
Forced quiet cause you’re destined to be crazy by anyone who matters.
They’re wrong of course,
Not cause I’m not crazy.. I am fucking insane,
But …. “we’re all mad here” as the hatter announces to the crowd.
I’ll never understand this game we all pretend we’re not playing
Yet so invested in winning.
What’s wrong with just wanting to play?
What’s wrong with indulging in a party nation,
Having fun, dancing about the world in both happiness and sadness
And all things wonderful.
I do not pretend to know the words that escape my mentality
When I let free the truth that screams from inside.
It’s not all that there is.
It’s not.
I’m not as sad as I let on… I’m not as happy either.
What a strange and unusual line to walk,
A show to always be on stage and dazzling in my adorable smile and sad eyes.
I’m either the happiest sad girl you ever saw
Or the saddest happy girl to ever laugh with a diamond mind.
I never knew the way people saw my quiet daze
Until a man in a foreign tongue told me … “some people are artist… others are art… you my dear, are the latter”
I am art.
Like dynamite I ignite with passion and explode with fantasies and die of satisfaction if that’s what the world sees of me..
But its not.
Just a select few see the art that dwells inside.
While the rest feels a protective and weary skepticism in everything I say, in all the things I do.
For me there’s only love.
For me there’s only art.
For me there’s only risk to be anything, anyone, other than what people expect or demand.
So what if I’m a fool.
I’m a girl.
I’m a beautiful little fool.
That’s the only way I know how to survive in this world.

Topic(s) of this poem: fantasy, girls, reality


Comments about Little Fool by Leah Ayliffe

  • Daniel Brick (11/24/2015 11:37:00 PM)


    This is the Poem of Release after suppression, when the very forces of suppression (A NOTION OF THE MAN WHO MAKES THE RULES) cause the explosion of energy that dispels what suppresses. You're free in a micro second. The problem with most explosions is the debris they scatter. I don't find any debris here. From the line - I'LL NEVER UNDERSTAND THIS GAME WE ALL PRETEND WE'RE NOT PLAYING - it is a free voice speaking this poem. You don't spend any time defending your point of view. You assert it, and move on, namely, Why see life experiences as a contest to be won or lost? Just declare everyone to be winner and move on from there. And the notion of happiness is a stumbling block? You rightly see yourself as a union of opposites. The saddest happy girl or the happiest sad girl.Both perceptions are profoundly true, and both are utterly false. Your poem suggests we have to live through experiences and then let go of them. What we need will be internalized, what's stuck to the surface is debris, brush it off. The interior is what matters, the DIAMOND MIND, REALITY and FANTASY exchanging places,
    never stationary, always in flux. YOU = ART. My favorite way to articulate this elusive reality is to say TAKE A SAD SONG AND MAKE IT BETTER.
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  • The chinmay (11/17/2015 9:38:00 PM)


    wonderful poetry.....good one (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, November 17, 2015

Poem Edited: Friday, May 20, 2016


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