I just kind of opened up and said, 'I feel like a rag doll. I have hair and makeup people coming to my house every day and putting me in new, uncomfortable, weird dresses and expensive shoes, and I just shut down and raise my arms up for them to get the dress on, and pout my lips when they need to put the lipstick on.'
quote by Jennifer Lawrence
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Reds
Red dress, red shoes,
A dancing moonlight reflecting from you
A diamond laced necklace, so cheap but expensive
Shining on through,
knowing a charged up essence of you jeweled
Will never escape the memory of you
Red dress, red shoes,
Ripples in the still breeze
Tracing the woods following footsteps made of you
Red dress red shoes,
I remember clearly the day I met you,
The beauty of you, red dress red shoes
Cold day, warm night
That red dress red shoes first entered my sight
Like a demon or devil, delving deeply to my heart, you entered my blood stream
With an evil curderling scream of art,
The ripping then began to start
This lady of red dress and red shoes
Enters the mind
Red dress, red shoes
Trapped in time
its true
poem by Daniel Richards
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shabby Doll
Giving you more of what for
Always worked for me before
Now Im a shabby doll
Whats going on behind the green elevator door
With just a shabby doll
Theres a hit man facing
A compromising situation
With just a shabby doll
And a very neat line in character assassination
Shes just a shabby doll
Shes just a shabby doll
Shes putting him off and putting you on
Shes just the shabby doll
Youre swearing upon you know in your heart
Shes gone you know in your heart
Shes just a shabby doll
Theres a girl in this dress
Theres always a girl in distress
Shes just a shabby doll
Shes so sure shes self-possessed
Then again shes half undressed
Shes just a shabby doll
The boy that I used to be
Showed no sign of sympathy
For just a shabby doll
I have betrayed you and me
And paid for my own bribery
With just a shabby doll
(chorus)
Hes the tired toy that everyone enjoyed
He wants to be a fancy man but hes nothing but a nancy boy
Hes all pride and no joy
And being what you might call a whore
Always worked for me before
Now Im a shabby doll
Untie the gag the cats out of the bag
But wont show his claws
Hes just a shabby doll
She said you must be joking
Some things are left unspoken
Youre just a shabby doll
Hes lying limp and soaking
He was openly broken
By just a shabby doll
(chorus)
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Left-To-Pout
I want to know what you want.
This beating around the bush skit,
Has played out.
From your lips to my ears...
I want to hear what this is about!
Come out with it!
You're gay?
Is that what you want to say?
Or is it,
You are cruiser friendly?
Don't claim you are a freak.
You'd be walking on the wrong turf,
In my territory.
On my streets.
What is it?
You're a lesbian in a borrowed body?
And you want to confess this to Oprah.
While the camera pans the audience...
To zoom and focus upon me,
Exposing my complete humiliation!
Has that been scheduled?
You know I need advance notification.
When is it?
Is that what this is?
And I am NOT delusional.
So don't look at me like that!
As if we are playing 'Jeopardy'...
And I haven't responded with the right question.
To deliver you from your game of 'Hide and Seek'.
Very soon you can STAY 'hidden'.
To play cat and mouse in an empty house.
I want to know what you want.
This beating around the bush skit,
Has played out.
From your lips to my ears...
I want to hear what this is about!
Come out with it!
Or be left to pout.
Come out with it!
Or be left to pout.
Come out with it!
Or be left to pout.
Come out with it!
Or be left to pout.
Come out with it!
Or be left to pout.
You're gay?
Is that what you want to say?
Or is it,
You are cruiser friendly?
Come out with it!
Or be left to pout.
Come out with it!
Or be left to pout.
Don't claim you are a freak.
You'd be walking on the wrong turf,
In my territory.
And on my streets.
And that kind of competition,
Is beyond my seeking.
Come out with it!
Or-be-left-to-pout.
Come out with it!
Or be left to pout.
Come out with it!
Or-be-left-to-pout.
Come out with it!
Or be left to pout.
Come out with it!
OR-BE-LEFT-TO-POUT! .
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dressing the Doll
THIS is the way we dress the Doll:—
You may make her a shepherdess, the Doll,
If you give her a crook with a pastoral hook,
But this is the way we dress the Doll.
Chorus
Bless the Doll, you may press the Doll,
But do not crumple and mess the Doll!
This is the way we dress the Doll.
First, you observe, her little chemise,
As white as milk, with ruches of silk;
And the little drawers that cover her knees,
As she sits or stands, with golden bands,
And lace in beautiful filagrees.
Chorus
Now these are the bodies: she has two,
One of pink, with rouches of blue,
And sweet white lace; be careful, do!
And one of green, with buttons of sheen,
Buttons and bands of gold, I mean,
With lace on the border in lovely order,
The most expensive we can afford her!
Chorus
Then, with black at the border, jacket
And this—and this—she will not lack it;
Skirts? Why, there are skirts, of course,
And shoes and stockings we shall enforce,
With a proper bodice, in the proper place,
(Stays that lace have had their days
And made their martyrs); likewise garters,
All entire. But our desire
Is to show you her night attire,
At least a part of it. Pray admire
This sweet white thing that she goes to bed in!
It ’s not the one that ’s made for her wedding:
That is special, a new design,
Made with a charm and a countersign,
Three times three and nine times nine:
These are only her usual clothes.
Look, there ’s a wardrobe! gracious knows
It ’s pretty enough, as far as it goes!
So you see the way we dress the Doll:
You might make her a shepherdess, the Doll,
If you gave her a crook with pastoral hook,
With sheep, and a shed, and a shallow brook,
And all that, out of the poetry-book.
Chorus
Bless the Doll, you may press the Doll,
But do not crumple and mess the Doll!
This is the way we dress the Doll;
If you had not seen, could you guess the Doll?
poem by William Brighty Rands
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Red Dress
Im in my red dress, with my red shoes to match when im with you.
Red lipstick and a red hair clip you gave to me i will keep for ever.
Are you walking towards me?
Can i hear you footsteps coming closer as my heart runs like a thousand horse's.
As i look up i cant see your face, ....... its not you.
The stain on my dress is red as i looked down to my heart its seping though, I want you to save me. But you never came.
As i fall to the ground, Like a red apple falling from its bush, i layed down in silents and died.
Because i waited for to long only to find you have a wife, thats why i fell but it only takes a single bullet to hurt someone like me, thats how you can crush a heart and life though lies and greed. And thats how you betrade me, in my red dress............
poem by Nicole Baker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Be Yourself
Kick back your heels.
Let your hair down.
Take off your makeup.
There's no one around
So you can be yourself.
No need to primp,
the weekend's here.
Cotton tees and comfy jeans
All the cozy gear
to let you be yourself.
Unless of course
you don't mind
having to dress
and you can't find
the way to be yourself?
Then put your heels on.
Fix up your hair.
Put on your makeup
for whoever's there
because this is yourself.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Makeup
When you wake up in the morning
And you put the makeup upon your face
Do you try to cover up the age and lines
Or only the sins and deceptions and the disgrace.
Do you try to place on a happy smile
By putting bright lipstick upon your lips
Or do you try to cover up your own hard life
Something that someone like you never forgets.
And as you look into your mirror
Do you powder the many lines upon your face
The lines that has stretched from years ago
Unto the present days of your life and waste.
Do you try to cover up the bags under your eyes
From all the many restless and sleepless nights
The nights when you cared not where you went
As long as you went and held on to someone tight.
Do you place the powder upon your cheeks
To make you look so cheerful and so very nice
But as they say you cant judge a book by its cover
And if they knew you, they need only to think twice.
And as you are preparing yourself for the day
With your makeup in front of you and on the shelf
Does it take you a little longer to put it on each day
As you try to cover yourself up and become someone else.
The makeup you have will you pass it along one day
And then show someone else how to cover up their lines
Maybe your sisters or even maybe your daughters
That is though if they need to cover up their lying.
And do you ever step back away from your mirror
Do you ever try to look at yourself as a whole
Does it ever bring tears into your heart and eyes
Do you ever wish that you still had a soul.
So as your prepare to start your brand new morning
With your lipstick and powders and so much more
Do you ever wish that you could just wash your face clean
And never have to cover up your ways and lies from the nights before.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Leave off the Agony in Style
Come all ye good people, listen to me, pray,
While I speak of fashion and style of today;
If you will notice, kind hearts it will beguile,
To keep in fashion and putting on style.
Chorus --
Leave off the agony, leave off style,
Unless you've got money by you all the while,
If you'll look about you you'll often have to smile,
To see so many people putting on style.
People in this country they think it is the best;
They work hard for money and lay it out in dress;
They think of the future with a pleasant smile,
And lay by no money while putting on style.
Chorus --
Some of the people will dress up so fine,
Will go out in company and have a pleasant time.
Will rob themselves of food, perhaps, all the while,
Sake of following fashions and putting on style.
Chorus --
I love to see the people dress neat and clean,
Likewise follow fashions, but not extremes;
Some friends will find it better in future awhile,
To lay by some money while putting on style.
Chorus --
Gentlemen on the jury decides the criminal's fate;
I pray you turn from wickedness before it is too late;
Sad, indeed, would be your friends to hear your name reviled,
Better be truly honest though putting on style.
Chorus --
Leave off the agony, leave off style,
Unless you've got money by you all the while.
If you look about you you'll often have to smile,
To see so many poor people putting on style.
poem by Julia A Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Magic At My House
In the closet there is a pair of shoes
The stay in the box kind of shoes.
The gray leather open toed high heeled shoes.
The fancy night on the town shoes.
The make you taller shoes.
The makeup wearing time shoes.
The too big but a perfect fit shoes.
The magic make you grown up shoes.
In the jewelry box there is a necklace.
The aquamarine and pearl and gold necklace.
The this is older than you or I necklace.
The shiny rainbow making necklace.
The color and feel of the ocean necklace.
The mother’s mother necklace.
The too nice for any day necklace.
The magic make you an elegant lady necklace.
In the bathroom there is a bag.
The painting for ladies bag.
The filled with vials and potions bag.
The put your face on bag.
The make your lips redder bag.
The give you doe eyes bag.
The not in public until your 16 bag.
The magic make you look beautiful bag.
In the bed there is a woman.
The wears the magic shoes woman.
The keeps the magic necklace woman.
The use the magic bag woman.
The lets me put on the shoes woman.
The tells me the story of the necklace woman.
The wipes off the magic of the bag woman.
The magic I want to be just like her woman.
poem by Gabrielle Shutt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tearing Off Your Own Head
Who dries your eyes when you cry real tears?
Who knows or cares what an imitation is?
(only you do)
You can paint his nails
Make him wear high heels
Why waste time altering the hemline
(only you do)
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
Its a doll revolution
You can bat your lashes
You can cut your strings
Pull out his hair with your moveable fingers
(it looks so real)
But one wont do it so collect the set
Dress him up in pink ribbons
Put him in a kitchenette
(how does this feel? )
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
Its a doll revolution
Itll turn you around
Its a doll revolution
Theyre taking over
And theyre tearing it down
Its a doll revolution
Its a doll revolution
song performed by by Bangles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Lying In My Arms, Day In Day Out
Baby(Shady) ,
I must say you the only one
You can Charm, charm a damsel in distress;
not hitting the right notes, leaving melodies undone
can make her feel, feel pageant queen in weird dress
Baby(Shady) ,
The way you ran your fingertips
through my hair, with tender loving care;
wishing your lips on my lips
don't know if this is love affair, or I'm building castle in the air.
Baby(Shady)
You lying in my arms, day in day out;
yes, yes...this is what I thought about
Baby(Shady)
You lying in my arms, day in day out;
yes, yes...this is what I thought about
(catch me or caress me,
Baby(Shady) like this keep loving me,
loving me, loving me, loving me
catchchchch.........or caress me)
Baby(Shady)
Getting someone like you, I'm blessed
being with you is all fun, even when things are messed;
I've gone so freak for you, I openly confess
you are best thing my heart possess;
Baby(Shady)
The way you talks about desired look of our first kid?
seating secretely on darker side of studio stair;
sometime asking myself 'what else in you I need? '
this makes me walk in the air, certainly This is Love affair;
Baby(Shady)
You lying in my arms, day in day out;
yes, yes...this is what I thought about
Baby(Shady)
You lying in my arms, day in day out;
yes, yes...this is what I thought about
(catch me or caress me,
Baby(Shady) like this keep loving me,
loving me, loving me, loving me
catchchchch.........or caress me)
Baby(Shady)
You lying in my arms, day in day out.
poem by Anuj Raj Singh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Young Man Who Refused To Take Off His Shoes
A young man
wandering in the dark
with his heart bleeding
found himself
infront of the house
that was fully lighted.
A woman
who seemed to be
an upright person
opened the door
and pityingly lead the young man
to enter the house
but then stopped him
when she saw the young man entering
with his shoes on his feet.
The woman told the young man
to take off his shoes
but the young man refused
to do so.
'I'm sorry,
I cannot let you in
if you won't take off your shoes
it is my policy
that everyone must take off the shoes
when entering the house.'
But the young man
still refused
so the woman pushed
the young man away
from the door and told him,
'I cannot help you
if you won't follow my policy! '
and the woman shut the door.
The young man
who refused to take off his shoes
back in the dark
wandering
with his heart bleeding
...alone.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tear Off Your Own Head (It's A Doll Revolution)
Who dries your eyes when you cry real tears?
Who knows or cares what imitation is?
Only you do
You can paint his nails
Make him wear high heels
Why waste time altering the hemline?
Or do you?
Tear of your own head
Tear of your own head
It's a doll revolution
You can bat your lashes
You can cut your strings
Pull out his hair with your moveable fingers
It looks so real
But one won't do, so collect the set
Dress him in pink ribbons
Put him in a kitchenette
How does this feel?
Tear of your own head
Tear of your own head
It's a doll revolution
What's that sound?
It'll turn you around
It's a doll revolution
They're taking over
And they're tearing it down
It's a doll revolution
You can pull and pinch him
'Til he cries and squeals
You can twist his body
'Til it faces backwards
Plastic features
Could make somebody a pretty little wife
But don't let anybody tell you
How to live your life
Broken pieces
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
It's a doll revolution
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
It's a doll revolution
What's that sound?
It'll turn you around
It's a doll revolution
They're taking over
And they're tearing it down
It's a doll revolution
It's a doll revolution
Revolution (revolution)
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head (revolution)
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
song performed by by Bangles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shoot From The Hip
If you want to get it quick.
I shoot from the hip.
Not a mumble do I grumbled,
Nor backstabbing gossiped hits.
I'm not one to leave you wondering...
What's on my mind,
Not a bit.
I don't hide my words,
When I choose to be heard.
If you want to get it straight.
I shoot from the hip.
Without a moment of delay.
I say it I don't spit.
If it's not liked how it is,
That's your business...
I'm not pissed.
Nor will you leave me in a fit.
To quiver with shut lips.
If you want to get it quick.
I shoot from the hip.
Not a mumble do I grumbled,
Nor pout and sit.
I'm not the kind to leave you wondering,
What's on my mind to admit!
Or suggest you see a psychic...
To tell you what you want and like it!
If you want to get it quick.
I shoot from the hip.
I'm not the kind to leave you wondering,
What's on my mind to admit!
If it's not liked as it is...
I'm not the kind to get pissed.
I'll deliver what I give you,
And that is it!
'So you're sayin' you do what? '
I shoot from the hip.
'What about the ears of others?
I shoot from the hip.
'What if they should have druthers? '
I said I shoot from the hip.
If they don't want to hear it,
Like it is from my lips...
They can turn around and I will kick them,
Where they are split!
Not a mumble do I grumbled.
I shoot from the hip.
No stumble do I fumble on...
I shoot from the hip!
If it's not liked how it is,
I will not get pissed.
Nor will I leave you quietly,
To quiver with shut lips.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Little Doll
I once had a sweet little doll, dears,
The prettiest doll in the world;
Her cheeks were so red and so white, dears,
And her hair was so charmingly curled.
But I lost my poor little doll, dears,
As I played in the heath one day;
And I cried for more than a week, dears,
But I never could find where she lay.
I found my poor little doll, dears,
As I played in the heath one day:
Folks say she is terribly changed, dears,
For her paint is all washed away,
And her arms trodden off by the cows, dears
And her hair not the least bit curled:
Yet for old sakes' sake she is still, dears,
The prettiest doll in the world.
From The Water-Babies.
Eversley, 1862.
poem by Charles Kingsley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There's nothing self-gratifying about knowing you've played a performance where people may easily dislike the character and associate it with you. There's nothing fun about having people suspicious about why you're making work. I'm clearly not networking or making a bid for popularity. I'm following another motivation, and it's not as a provocateur. It's because I'm blinded, like an idiot, by wanting to preserve and express an insight that I have, or an aesthetic that I believe in. I forget that people react to me personally as the representative of that. Did you see a credit for hair and makeup? How can I be a narcissist? I've never even had hair and makeup done for me on a film. I don't even know what I look like as I'm filming.
quote by Vincent Gallo
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Small Little Rag Doll
The small little rag doll
Made with love
Each stitch sown
By tender loving hands
Places under the tree
Wrapped in Xmas cheer
The little rag doll
A waits to be held
Small young hands
Rips wrappers apart
And smile with delight
At the little rag doll
The gingham dress
The Goldie lock hair
And sown on smile
Make a small child gasp
At a beautiful sight
Loving she holds
The little rag doll
And makes her a bed
In her make believe world
Her mother look’s on
With pride and Joy
That her little baby girl
Loves her little rag doll.
poem by Kaila George
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Santa Claus Is Coming To Town
You better watch out
You better not cry
You better not pout
I'm telling you why
Santa Claus is coming to town
He's making a list,
And checking it twice;
Gonna find out who's naughty and nice
Santa Claus is coming to town
He see you when you're sleeping
He knows when you're awake
He knows if you've been bad or good
So be good for goodness sake!
O! you better watch out!
You better not cry.
You better not pout, I'm telling you why
Santa Claus is coming to town
Santa Claus is coming to town
With little tin horns
And little toy drums
Rooty toot toot and rummy tum tum
Santa Claus is coming to town
The kids and girls and boys land
Will have a jubilee
He's goona build a toy land
All arould the christmas tree
So you better not pout
Better not shout
Better not cry
Better not sigh
Tellin' you why
Santa Claus is coming
Better not pout
Better not shout
Better not cry
Better not sigh
Tellin' you why
Santa Claus is coming
I mean the great big man with the snow white beard
Santa Claus is coming to town
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tear Off Your Own Head
Who dries your eyes when you cry real tears?
Who knows or cares what an imitation is?
Only you do
You can paint his nails
Make him wear high heels
Why waste time altering the hemline?
Or do you?
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
It's a doll revolution
You can bat your lashes
You can cut your strings
You can pull his hair with your moveable fingers
It looks so real
If one won't do it, so collect the set
Dress him in pink ribbons
Put him in a kitchenette
How does this feel?
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
It's a doll revolution
What's that sound?
It will turn you around
It's a doll revolution
They're taking over
And they're tearing it down
It's a doll revolution
You can pull and pinch him
'Til he cries and squeals
You can twist his body 'til it faces backwards
Those plastic features
You could make somebody a pretty little wife
But don't let anybody tell you how to live your life
Broken pieces
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
It's a doll revolution
Tear off your own head
Revolution
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ex-Whore
I'm a miserably predictable
Broken, sticked-up doll.
My dress is torn, my hair matted
And one arm dangles at my side.
My wounded pride, my wounded pride.
I used to be pretty, you know
Before I got so old, before I became disposable.
They used to look at me and smile
I was theirs for a while.
My wounded pride, my wounded pride.
Too old for the job,
No one pays to keep a rag.
I'm a doll, a broken doll,
Wishing I didn't fall.
poem by Ana Podarevska
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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