Masks

A man who comes to a realization.

 

The ugliest faces are painted and powdered,

Their cries for attention could be no louder.

 

Once the blush was used by few,

An old withered maid or love found anew,

 

But as waists shortened and legs were shown,

A girl without makeup was no longer known,

 

The singers on the “brilliant” stage,

Became the young girls’ perfection gauge.

 

Glitter glued to pink stained eyes,

Big white smiles full of lies,

Plastered emotions on red pinched cheeks,

Satisfaction that each girl seeks.

 

Books hold no place in this time,

No person will hear of these characters of mine.

 

Formerly I was apart from this age,

Shaking my head like a Taoist sage.

 

But I know that I can no longer laugh.

I must pick up my reining staff,

And drive these villains from the land,

With or without a supporting band.

 

I must do this for a grievous reason,

For one cold night in the winter season,

I was sitting at my desk alone.

The twilight sun and black sky shown.

The smells of dinner carried love and calm,

Giving stillness to any qualms.

 

My pen scratched ink into the page,

My characters danced on a hidden stage.

 

“Daddy?” the voice was light and airy,

I pulled my mind from the land of fairies,

“Yes?”

And then my pencil broke.

She stood a w***e to all decent folk.

Her pale legs reached from a mini skirt,

Her flat chest pressed against her shirt,

Those beautiful cheeks were caked with lies,

Her long thin lashes betrayed her size,

She was not my little girl,

But another flirt in the shallow world.

 

A man can never live with gain,

If he stands back and bashes and blames.

 

Do not abandon the world you see,

Seek to change it, not I but WE.

For some day in the heavenly land,

You have built away from man,

It will take what is most dear,

And kindle every hatred and fear,

Leaving nothing but regret,

The biggest and most destructive threat.

Reviews

[Melissa]

I liked it. I know how you feel when it comes to being horrified by seeing girls plastered in make-up. this world has become way too materialistic.

[Mr. Lopez]

A talented poem still in his youth.
With much to say and all the truth
can find his place among the throng
his words much wiser then his years are long

You continue to impress me with your content, rhyme and rythme.