{"id":129301,"date":"2023-09-02T12:03:03","date_gmt":"2023-09-02T16:03:03","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=129301"},"modified":"2023-09-02T12:48:17","modified_gmt":"2023-09-02T16:48:17","slug":"geppetto-upendo","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2023\/09\/geppetto-upendo\/","title":{"rendered":"Geppetto Upendo"},"content":{"rendered":"

Love is a Geppetto, and<\/span><\/p>\n

Wooden-mouthed dummies wish to be real \u2013<\/span><\/p>\n

To smell musk sharp and familiar;<\/span><\/p>\n

To taste the salt of flesh;<\/span><\/p>\n

To hear damp, ragged breath against the ear;<\/span><\/p>\n

To see beads of sweat hanging from the hairline;<\/span><\/p>\n

To drag fingers along solid dreams.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A thousand Pinocchios roam the countryside\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Running from Geppetto<\/span><\/p>\n

Slamming into each other<\/span><\/p>\n

in a mad attempt to finesse Love from its hiding place.<\/span><\/p>\n

Because of contusions, Love evades them.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cI am ready for Love. Why are you hiding from me? I\u2019d quickly give my freedom to be held in your captivity.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

At night, the desperate babbles of loneliness sound\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Cacophonous screams in cotton drift down to the streets.<\/span><\/p>\n

Pinocchios lie to themselves during the day about their deplorable state, and no one knows<\/span><\/p>\n

Except Natalie, who being a night walker, will promptly report the plight of the loveless faction, the pandemic of empty beds.<\/span><\/p>\n

That bitch can never ignore a good scream.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Love hates manipulation.<\/span><\/p>\n

Jina lako nani?<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

Puppets hate to be played with.<\/span><\/p>\n

Jina langu ni Upendo.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

Geppetto sits in the corner carving wood until his fingers bleed.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Love is a Geppetto, and Wooden-mouthed dummies wish to be real \u2013 To smell musk sharp and familiar; To taste the salt of flesh; To hear damp, ragged breath against the ear; To see beads of sweat hanging from the hairline; To drag fingers along…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4411,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[11],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-129301","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-half-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/129301","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4411"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=129301"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/129301\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":129543,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/129301\/revisions\/129543"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=129301"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=129301"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=129301"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}