I wrote a poem a few years back inspired by a great rebellious American poet named Allen Ginsberg. As a prominent figure in the Beat Generation, his free verse, rant like poems are filled with rich historic and literary references that supported his oppositions to materialism, the military and political biases.
Ginsberg portrays a failing 1950’s American society, but my poem evokes the disconnect of beauty and perfection.
I’m often outraged at the constant pressures women face when it comes to beauty and perfection. For thousands of centuries women have been culturally subjected to some outrageous beauty standards. In lieu of my disposition on beauty here’s my poem: “Within Without”
Within Without
I
I saw the best of my friends, and I too
consumed, devoured
by the hungry images of perfection and beauty.
They starved my soul and they stole my power
none-less like thieves of the night.
I felt scared.
For Demi and Ke$ha and Lindsey and Jessica,
beauties of the camera sparkling
under the blinding limelight
yet, Owl Eyes watching, proved their
vulnerability.
Help! As I have become delusional
believing in the mirage of perfection, seduced
by the sirens of beauty.
Help! I am deafened by the sounds of their slander,
which mutes my inner voice.
And for Marilyn Monroe, World renowned symbol of,
sex, glamour and beauty,
drowned in an overdose of voices.
II
22 for Rimmel and 40 for Bare Minerals and 30 for MAC, geez, do you want me to be broke! Shelling out money, to fake natural perfection!
Is this the late 18th Century? Do I need white powder for alabaster skin
to channel the great Marie Antoinette.
If I remember correctly, this is not the Renaissance!
but then again we give them 20 billion.
They say beauty is pain,
what about deathly lead, arsenic, and mercury,
today plastic surgery tanning beds lasers and botox,
tomorrow an entire new body thanks to technology!
Should I break my feet China? Lighten my face Japan? And burn my hair Brazil?
All for the sake of beauty? perhaps,
I am terrified.
III
Within
and Without I try to turn my cheek upon the face of Perfection,
although a Goddess — you are not real.
You don’t belong in the real world!
You do not understand love, hatred, failure, or compassion —
so why should I try to understand you?
so to my friends of the past of today of the future
I am with you.
