Like men, from dust and clay she is born.
By men, her face and delicate form is made,
Through heat and glaze and Water she’ll soon scorn.
A fine novelty, A porcelain maid.
On her crown are luscious locks of mohair,
Adorned with rosettes, by masters no doubt!
And glass eyes tell the secrets she can’t share
For her lips are in an eternal pout.
Velvet and lace conceals her nakedness
Away from a stranger’s unwelcome gaze.
And this Belle who looks alive, is lifeless.
A sleeping beauty born by the fire’s blaze.
Yet a doll is not unlike a real man.
Both are puppets, Each to a different hand
Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 3:48 PM UTC
Dress them fabulous!
Line their eyes black, dramatic;
Teach the young mermaids to walk in cigarettes
with eyes of starved predators (like they are)
unflinching at the flashes as they sashay
To let ***** sons imagine what’s under the bespoke.
Make their tresses wet for greater effects
Let my mermaids walk with pearl-choked necks!
Cut off the ducklings! Matrons like swans
--nymphs that glide on runway as if on ice
Have the witches lust for the sea green dress
Even if it makes them look like fat caterpillars
Make them forget that they’re no longer young
And that these girls are the newest brand of beautiful.
For the sequin-scales, have the crones battle with cheques.
Let my mermaids walk with pearl-choked necks!
Jun 25, 2017
Jun 25, 2017 at 10:02 AM UTC