They say I am the pedestal woman
I was crafted by genetic mutation
10,000 years ago when beauty shifted--
oh and if you have brown eyes
that train has bypassed
you-scapel sliced through you--
bleeding heart in hand--
oh, but you know that plain
jane is smarter she has power in
numbers that make the world turn
beneath you-without you--since
you are the pedestal woman.
They say I am the pedestal woman--
But I am not a Pewter Spoon,
I am Jade-- sometimes green,
highly esteemed as an ornamental stone
I am Granite--
great hardness, firmness, or durability,
lifecycles of the depths of the ocean-
They try to knock me down
They try to melt me down
they try to turn me-- to turn
you into molten tears,
But I am Mortar--
I will reduce you to powder.
Glass toenails on which she stands--
Seemingly on her feet--seemingly on her hands.
They say she is the pedestal woman.
Head high above the clouds
Arrows they dart, from the simpish crowds--
They nearly knick the pedestal woman.
She is not the remains of a usurped crown
She's not the institution--don't knock her down
Just steer clear of the pedestal woman.
Dogmatics slide off the backs of toads
Fault-finding cracks in the roads
I see the stones they are rising
I see the dawn is compromising
and the snow it does melt about my toes
With my people's warmth and not their woes-
They say I am the pedestal woman
For now as I rise above the mist
The supple orange they have kissed
The ivy cast about my hip
The earth descends and lessens grip
I am the familiar goddess of lore
I am the answer for those wanting more
I am not known by name
I am still treated with fame-
So they call me "the pedestal woman"
I am Bronze and not pale
Like the golden god's ale
and they suckle from my seeping glands
Sifting through me like hourglass sands
and I give them the pure whiteness of me
As sturdy as the Shorea tree
Something lives inside the stone
And to no known affliction I am prone-
I am the pedestal woman.
Tickle your toes. . .
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