A Cluster of Poems, Page 2

  And rings punched through my nose

  And studs to decorate my rear,

  And stars where my belly button goes.

  My nipples too could use a lift,

  They’re plain the way they are.

  Maybe as a birthday gift –

  I can live with a tiny scar.

  Collagen to puff my lips.

  Botox for my face.

  Surgery for my sagging hips.

  Scars heal without a trace.

  I want to get some tattoos too

  Of animals and flowers.

  I think that that’s what I might do.

  And signs for super powers.

  My birthday sign – well, that’s two fish.

  Just one upon each knee.

  What more could anybody wish.

  Apart from maybe three.

  And swirly tatts upon my face

  To make me look real tough.

  I have some pictures I could trace.

  Ten swirls should be enough.

  And snakes tattooed upon each arm.

  And swords upon my thighs.

  I really want to cause alarm

  And bulge out people’s eyes.

  I may have all my teeth out

  And sharp false ones instead.

  They’ll look real frightening there’s no doubt.

  Especially if they’re red

  I want to frighten ladies.

  Scare them so much they faint.

  And terrify young babies.

  I’ll use real blood not paint.

  These days it seems they implant things

  Which fit under your skin.

  Like shoulder blades that look like wings

  And studs that spell out SIN.

  They implant horns into your head

  Which fasten to your skull.

  It’s really true I’ve heard it said.

  Believe me, it’s no bull.

  They make you look like you are mean

  Evil and nasty too.

  They are the coolest things I’ve seen.

  Something I’ve got to do.

  Maybe I’ll get my tongue cut

  And look just like a snake.

  And a tail that’s sewn on to my butt.

  It would have to be a fake.

  I probably couldn’t wag it

  Or use it like its real.

  But then I wonder how I’d sit.

  I wonder how it would feel?

  No! Instead I’ll just get lots of tatts.

  Tattoos from head to toe

  Of snakes and fish, spiders and rats

  Yep that’s the way I’ll go.

  They’ll put my face on TV

  In books and mags as well.

  They’ll see I’m a celebrity.

  I’ll live in a posh hotel.

  Yes, I’ll be rich and famous

  With more cash than I can spend.

  I’ll live a life luxurious

  Until the very end.

  And when I die they won’t bury me

  Won’t put me in a grave

  Because I’ll be a celebrity

  So important my body they’ll save

  To a taxidermist I’ll be sent

  Cleaned up and lips all puffed

  On show for museums, I’ll be lent

  Because I’ll be thoroughly stuffed.

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  ***~~~***

  7. Dress Code

  I hate the way Mum makes me dress

  When I go off to school.

  Each day I just wear less and less

  She makes me feel a fool.

  My skirts are just so tiny

  That everybody snickers.

  And if I bend just slightly

  Everyone can see my knickers.

  The tee-shirts that she makes me wear

  All have a silly slogan

  Like – OK LET’S PLAY KISS OR DARE.

  I feel like such a bogan

  And bangles, earrings, sparkly shoes

  With bows stuck in my hair.

  I’m dressed in clothes I wouldn’t choose

  But she doesn’t seem to care.

  And multi-coloured stockings,

  Bright red and blue and green.

  Designed to be so shocking

  The worst you’ve ever seen.

  My belts are so tight fitting

  I’m almost cut in two

  Especially when I’m sitting

  Makes me feel I need the loo.

  She made me wear a G string!

  She did! – My rotten Mum!

  I went to music, tried to sing

  It went right up my bum.

  I’d like to have some different clothes

  To fit in with the others

  But Mum says, “That’s the way it goes,

  And choice is left to mothers.”

  Mum says I’ll be a celebrity

  And so I dress unique.

  I’ll have my own show on TV

  Appearing every week

  So she’ll decide what I will wear.

  I’m dressed to get attention.

  Now she wants me to dye my hair.

  I’ll probably get detention.

  And how can I play basketball

  When I’m wearing huge high heels?

  She says they make me slim and tall.

  That’s not the way it feels.

  Last week I wore a sequin covered tee-shirt with no bra

  I’d change it on the way to school but she took me in the car.

  So when I got to school I turned the tee-shirt inside out

  The outside on the inside looked much better there’s no doubt.

  But sequins they are hard and sharp and when I had to cough

  The damn things cut into my skin and chopped my nipples off!

  She plasters on my make-up,

  And lipstick on so thick,

  It’s a wonder I don’t spew up.

  The thought makes me sick.

  Legs shaved and a bikini wax

  False nails upon my fingers

  And pours on perfume to the max.

  The stuff with smell that lingers.

  And before I leave for school

  She looks me up and down.

  She tells me how I look ‘real cool’

  But I look like a clown

  With rainbow coloured pantyhose

  With sparkly varnish on my toes

  With diamond stud stuck through my nose.

  Then, Mum asks me to strike a pose.

  Then click and so the camera goes.

  Another photo for her book

  To show the world just how I look.

  The millionth picture that she’s took.

  One day in time just froze.

  I wish my Dad would tell her.

  Tell her to her face.

  But he’s such a pleasant feller,

  Won’t say I’m a disgrace.

  I wish he’d once stand up for me,

  Say I’m not a dress up toy.

  Tell her plainly so she’ll see,

  I’m an average teenage boy.

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