Thursday, April 26, 2012

Tattooed and Trashy

              Tattooed and trashy,
                You aren’t what you seem.
                Whips and chains
                Every man’s dream.
                Then you claim to have a heart
                Worthless bitch.

                What’s your name?
                Angel, maybe Rachel?
                Close enough, monikers of slutty girls.
                Better than Brittany but worse than Jenna.
                As the boys do their gang bang
                And you smile demeaning my gender!

                Didn’t your mother ever tell you?
                Keep your legs closed.
                Then again, everyone knows-
                When it comes to certain rules-
                They need not apply to the easy woman.
                Easy on the eye and the one the guy picks in the end.

                You come with a Lucite pair of shoes and a stripper pole,
                A terrible assault to those like me who spent their time learning.
                Bettering ourselves, looking for knowledge, yearning-
                Answers in the dark, wanting to treat a man with dignity-
                Wanting to treat him with respect-
                Then we’re the ones he trashes-

                Oh hell oh heck I am the fair haired girl!
                Protesting against all the wrongs in the patriarchal world.
                They call me an angry girl because I speak fact
                Not a Tia Tequila, stupid and stacked.
                (Or willing to please)
                Instead I smash the standards with a hammer.

                I am not tattooed and trashy.
                My makeup not so heavy that it smears in heat.
                Despite all I have to offer I still must compete-
                With beings so worthless they make me rue the life I live.
                Perhaps I will inhale my hairspray hoping to kill a few braincells,
                That way I can be happy.

                That way I will not question.
                Instead I will smile stupidly, society’s suggestion.
                Parting my hair like a vamp, dawn a tramp stamp,
                Stumble in Lucite shoes that I can’t walk in.
                Be commanded around by some man who throws me money
                Like a cheap stripper at a ten cent bar.

                Alas, I am not tattooed and trashy,
                But Angel, you are.

Nice tattoo, how many times did your man slap you around tonight  as you set back the women's movement 30 years. 

CLASSY. Maybe I should take you to meet my friends at the Harvard, Yale, Princeton Club. But first you must pass the counting test. Ooops, to drunk to see. 

It's enough you make me apologize for not being a complete slut you worthless craps, but don't add insult to injury by getting cum on my couch. 

A young artist, trying to keep up with the white, male standard of beauty. So much so that I said fuck it.  You can have your trashy ho. Pleasing you is like sitting through Water World with Kevin Costner. No one deserves that much of your time and energy for something so stupid. 

No comments:

Post a Comment