Friday, 23 March 2007
01:29:25 AM (GMT)
I've been considering what life's like for Barbie,
The bitch has everything she doesn't need,
A genuine living doll ... with baggage,
Prostituted for K-TEL's greed.
To represent less than five percent of womankind,
Yet still be a role model for the young,
Have a twelve-inch waist, forty two-inch bust,
Be spoilt, indulged and highly strung.
I'd be wanton to be like Barbie,
The pin-up of playful men,
Action figures vying for my affection,
And (after considerable effort) winning it ... now and then,
My company always sought after,
For camping, boating or horse rides,
The recipient of continual expensive gifts,
To ensure my presence at their sides.
I want to be like Barbie,
Accessorised to the hilt,
Handbags ... jewellery... shoes ... makeup ... clothes,
All provided free of guilt,
I want to be more flexible,
A Barbie with bendy elbows and knees,
Because mine are beginning to stiffen with age,
I'm becoming more robotic by increasing degrees.
I want to be a life-size Barbie,
But I've probably left my run too late,
By the time that I've finished with cosmetic surgery,
I will have passed my "use-by" date,
I could have all of the cellulite sucked out of my thighs,
And recycled onto my chest instead,
Lengthen my legs by eight inches,
But what would I do about my bloody head?
Although ... if I really was like Barbie,
I'd never enjoy another hearty meal,
Forfeit pleasures of the flesh,
Maybe I'd forget how wonderful good sex can feel.
I wouldn't have any nipples,
To tease, lick or suck,
I'd have a smooth crotch ... closed smiling mouth,
No luscious warm wet openings to ... fill (hmmm).
And if I truly was like Barbie,
Would you ever hear a word that I'd say?
Overwhelmed by my eye pleasing packaging,
Not renowned as an audio-visual display.
If I talked ... would you listen,
Value my opinions ... cling to my words?
A combination of intellect and beauty,
A disturbing Reality ... Don't be absurd