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They Say

"To be a lady of beauty
You must have your
Chin up, shoulders back
Legs Cross, back straight"
What are we their Barbie dolls?
They say we must behave this way
But we are more than a piece in their game.
They say this is the only way to be proper
But what even is proper in today age

"To be a lady of beauty
You must have
Blonde hair, blue eyes, clear skin
You must be
5'8" 130 pounds"
What do they want; no adversity
They say this is what looks best in photos
But we are not just portraits waiting to be drawn
They say this is the perfect body
But everyone is flawed
Nobody meets their standards

"To be a lady of beauty
You must wear
Short shirts and low necks
You must wear
High heels and walk in them well"
What must we be; models 24/7?
They say to wear these clothes
But if we do we are called *****
They say to wear heels
But do they know the pain
That is the price you pay for beauty, they say

"To be a lady of beauty
You must
have perfect bone structure and have no flaws
You must
Always be happy and show no pain."
What do they want; a preprogrammed robot
They say they want 'natural' beauty
But natural isn't good enough for them
They say we must hide our pain
But we just put on a shield
Of waterproof makeup and a fake smile

"To be a lady of beauty"
They say these are our guidelines
But we will never fit them
They say to do these things
But they will never know our pain
They say we are not beautiful
But we know they are wrong
We will not abide and be ladies of beauty
But we will be beautiful ladies.
This is my first poem so please be nice!
Martin Narrod Jun 2014
Most peculiarly of most things was that I thought all of this very fishy, daudry, drab, and boresome. This is where I turn on the second table lamp...

In a muster I arrived to the home of my aunt, where at once she drew me into the back of the house, down a flight of stairs made of tusk and bone into a catacomb where she kept a alive collection of wooly mammoths. She said the upkeep wasn't awfully horrendous as she had an invisible backdrop which led to a lion, a witch, and a wardrobe sort of thing. I stood in the gangway behind 10 foot high thigh bones waiting for one of the monstrous red beasts to come greet me, but what arrived was a very large elephant with longer tusks than usual. None of the red sillyness which I had dreamt of seeing in my previous years.

She could see I was not that impressed, and so I was led to another part of her home. Around the corner walked in my uncle in is superb and luxurious dress, reminiscent of 18th century British military fatigues. He said, "I bought the E.T. ride from Universal Studios, but as bringing the whole ride to my home I had them adapt a more suitable version to fit the property. A hangar opened and inside there were four chariots of orange and blue, diamond shaped school buses with their undersides aimed at withholding a V-shaped street. Then in two and two single file order all the classmates of my K-12 years arrived and took seat into the strappings of this 'ride' we were to take. Music played, John Williams even was produced by hologram, and after the ups and downs for several minutes we arrived to what I thought would inevitably be the forest, but rather was what I perceived was a Finnish town. The chariot I was in was stuck in the street, mud, rain, and soot entrenched us. I unbuckled the polyester straps and when I stood I realized that though the seats had built in urinals and toilets they were utterly noiseome to the senses. I followed a local girl to a food mart where I asked how I could find where I was but no one spoke a drop of English.

I corraled the group and told them to wait for me. I followed this girl who seemed quite younger than I to a small apartment in the uppermost floor of a very unsturdy chapel-like home several suburban blocks from our ride. She immediately removed her pants and I saw with my very own eyes that she was hairless and nubile. She insisted that we have a ****, and after I caressed her and complained too that she was far too young, she insisted that the age of consent in Germany was actually 13 yet she was 16. I remember it clearly. The most gigantuous feelings of pleasure as I mended a studio closet for my dining room furniture inside her ripening channel. Eventually after an hour we finished, she offered me a towel and some biscuits, which I consumed joyously.

Upon leaving her home I remembered that she had said we were in Germany, and so I produced a measure of Deutsch that I had been saving in my repetoir for the right moment. As Finnish is not my strongest language I was pleased of this and became instantly popular among the other candidates of our journey. This  E.T. ride is far different than  I remember it having been. Moments later I awoke quickly, a tuft of her black hair on my eiderdown comforter and a veil of tears from the merriment of glee shrouded over my face. After I rolled and balled into the soft feathers of my bedding, I twisted myself again into a knot, and allowed myself to rejoin the soporific treatice I was aiming for.

This is now where I turn off both lamps and go on watching films of a similar style.

Wishing You The Very Best,

Sir Martin Narrod

I keep my family of conscience
I shred my folly of heir
In case of torment or fondness
I never wear underwear.

— The End —