Rough Copy
Living on a concrete slab of fake ideals
A mesh of corrupted ideologies run by plastic mannequins.
‘Excessive’ waists restrained by cosmetic straight jackets.
Hairless private parts slid into candy flossed magazines.
Hairlines untraceable, the strenuous duty of interwoven thoughts run by a dead ringer.
“Keep your legs closed!” They say “Why are you so frigid?!” They say…
Prejudiced based on the perceived monthly ‘curse’
Misguided…
“Miss?…Here…Take This Once a Day…Please Control Your Birth!”
Baby mother? Fashionista? Hoe? Tomboy? Superwoman?
Why so many boxes to fall into?
Long and thin? Fat and short? Masculine status decided by notches on a measuring stick.
Who owns that stick? Who owns that fictional fantasy?
Father figures, figures of speech as the ideal man is within reach, but often the student has no one to teach him.
Shooting in the gym.
“Ay! Are you listening? Cool. Here…take this…shoot…HIM!”
Sponge twists and beards. Consciousness or copycat mirror images?
Breadwinners? Emasculation? Effeminate? Roadman? Crisis of masculinity?
Why so many boxes to fall into?
Young men and women imprinting on a carbon copy.
Lost notes in bottles all giving the same message.
Social media…the stomping ground for adopted personas.
The face behind the mask is afraid of being socially inferior.
Socially awkward, socially stunted, socially incomplete, socially replaceable…
Trying to find identity, seeking indemnity for emotions and energy lost in the costly battle of self discovery.
Constantly being told…
“You’re so late!”
“That was so last year…”
“I use those shoes to walk my dog!”
Playing a game of kiss chase with a foggy ideology.
All running towards the goal. Wearing different colours of the same brand.
Are we really all that different? Are we really that complex?
Surely not, with all the pic stitches and “out with my bitches!”
The “With the team” and “I look too clean” headlines
Subtle cues of progress of a fluid ideal.
What has been gained? What will have to be lost?
What has been improved? What will have to deteriorate?
You have the latest yes…
But you’re interpersonal skills aren’t the greatest…stress…
We don’t connect with each other, because we are too busy being vex with each other.
Jealousy a hidden melody in our sing-song re-affirmations of self.
“I’m doing better than you”
These are competitions with no award.
Are we who we say we are? Maybe we don’t know ourselves at all…the depths more complex…
Afraid to engage in deep digging.
So we evade, occupy mind space with magazine cut outs and idle thinking…
I think it’s safe to say we are a first draft, walking different paths with similar pit stops….
We are yet to submit the final form.
Efé
Latest posts by Efé (see all)
- Review: THE LAST POETS Supported by Poetic Pilgrimage (@PoeticPilgrim) — August 29, 2017
- Poetry: ‘Rough Copy’ By Efé — August 3, 2017