The War on Facial Hair

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I met the man

who created Woman.

He was shorter than I expected

and lacked a little hair.

Pygmalion man, who are you

to judge the rights and wrongs

of a pair of breasts ? Who are you

to judge the distance (km, m, cm)

of a pair of nylon-clad legs ?

I ask you, Mr. Ken

what right have you

to engineer my foot size,

to wage war

with tongs and tweezers

against my facial hair ?

What have I done, Mr. Nietzsche

for you to call me less than shallow

when you are the pool in which I bathe ?

Who are you Dr. Dre, to categorize me

into a box of sexual acts, explicit

to tell me I 'ain't worth shit' because

it rhymes with 'suck my dick' ? Witty, bro.

Who are you, Mr. Man

mister Nothing

mister Plastic Surgeon with the anesthesia

laid thick in the air I breathe,

clogging my thought pattern –

apnea of the brain –

to tug the strings above my head

and drop me to my knees ?

I will not live the Plastic Life.

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19/10/11