Open Poetry #11 |
Deconstructing Eve (Re-posted and Revised) |
Honeybee Member Ascendant
since 1999-12-26
Posts 5372Ontario, CANADA |
It's still true to the original, but I have re-written and added lines, it is now polished and finished! < !signature-->~DECONSTRUCTING EVE~ She bruises easily: the price to pay for the precious flesh that she wears, she has herself a degree on the wall that hangs in a cherry-wood frame embossed with gold, she was the top of her class with her parents proud of her - a kind and caring sprit, talented and intelligent with all her curves and femininity and a lovely name of Eve, perfect in God's eyes, but, not in society's, socializing her to conform to a certain image, deconstructing her confidence, for, gone are the blessed years of carefree days and pig-tailed innocence where her mother raised her as a sweet little girl, while her plastic dolls taught her anorexia and bulimia as she held in her memory their ideals of beauty, carrying on into adulthood, haunting her mind She wears a state of the art push-up bra to lift her silicone breasts - the best that money can buy, taught early on about the importance of clevage for a man's pleasure and her acceptance as a woman, dyed her hair a honey blonde shade, wearing stilettos and a black mini skirt, little miss wannabe sex symbol with her Marilyn Monroe laugh, her Betty Boop charms and her fluttering, curled to perfection eyelashes complimenting her eyes of blue, a magic trick created with contact lenses concealing the dull brown hue She, in envy, consults diagrams and Playboy mags full of pictures of exploited naked beauties that the Adams of the world use to masturbate on, she longs to be just like those lost souls, "sex kittens" that men gaze upon and compare their girlfriends and wives to, not happy with the real thing fantasizing about a false beauty, a false happiness where underlying is a moral ugliness She worships fashion magazines thumbing through ads that promise the key to superhuman beauty, an illusion selling the hope and the hype and like a charm they appeal to her impressionable heart leading her to believe that it will be filled with love at last if only she spend hundreds of dollars each year to be their creation, she buys the cause, but not the cure, a vicious cycle, she purchases revolutionary products and cosmetics galore - powder and concealor in one that now covers the hurt she tries to hide the fatal flaw of daring to be herself She holds in her hands, pills in a bottle, guaranteed to shed unwanted pounds of her money back, pounds that her body cannot spare, for, she is already too thin, still, she is convinced that she is fat, compared to her on the cover of a magazine and her walking down the runway and that one on the movie screen Tonight she starves herself: the sacrifice to be wanted in their eyes, the need to please to feel safe in her own skin, where superficiality is next to godliness when it's the lastest fad She, a weed blowing in the harsh, relentless wind of society's laughter opens the door to her soul, a sellout, and becomes their manequin in a department store window, and they, without hesitation alienate the sacredness of her individuality by dismantling her lonely heart, breaking down each body part, bit by bit, agonizingly slow in a mocking manner and disect the very essence of her while they examine her uniqueness, hold it in the palm of their hands and tease it for a while then strip it away from her, she, now numb to the shallowness and empty promises embraces them blindly, they, aware that she is even more powerless and insecure skillfully manipulate her and drain her of her dreams and innocence, for, she is going to look beautiful at all costs, for, when you control a woman's body you can control her mind as they mold her into what they want her to be, once satisfied, but, never completely, they carelessly re-create her, rebuild her soul and hide the scars that now live within She, more fragile than ever has bloomed into that desired red rose that she has always dreamed of becoming, yet also lives with the deeply embedded thorns that come with the territory, left with the sour taste of the bitter woman she has become: confused, an imitation of all the masks that woman wear, she no longer walks with dignity, her eyes now swim in tears, hollow they race in a trance down her sunken, pale cheeks, streams of emptiness for belying her own intelligence and worth, for selling her soul, the price to pay when reconstructing Eve By Melissa Honeybee The beauty of poetry gives my soul wings to fly free within dreams [This message has been edited by Melissa Honeybee (edited 11-25-2000).] |
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© Copyright 2000 Melissa P. Long-Monette - All Rights Reserved | |||
Startime Member Ascendant
since 2000-10-03
Posts 5918Canada |
Oh my gosh the power and sadness in this poem broke my heart. Some of everything mentioned here effects every woman as we try to become the beauties the world tells us we have to be. This poem makes me think, my friend. My heart goes out to the character written of. *sigh* it is so very sad that we live in such a plastic world. Thank you so much for the read and the message. Love I leave with you my friend whether it be in your life or of yet the essense of your dreams. [URL=http://path2riches.com]http://path2riches.com |
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Sven
since 1999-11-23
Posts 14937East Lansing, MI USA |
Melissa, I remember when you first posted this. . . it still rings true. . . Brilliant. . . ------------------------------------------------------ That which gives light must endure burning --Victor Frankl |
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