Look, I’m not getting much sleep lately,
so chalk this up to grumpiness, if you want.
Or the back spasms…
And I’m no prude, believe me.
But I am a man who’s old, so most
of you would’t notice me on the street.
I’m a tad bitter about that, you might say,
but have learned what’s important.
Maybe, you could just listen.
I get it: Sex sells,
fantasy sex sells cars and everything else..
All those selfies of you on FB, Instagram,
You posed coyly just to show your good side,
your amazing boobs or butt, the come-hither look.
(And yes, I notice. )
But you know the ones I mean,
The strategic ones that let you pretend you’re
Scarlett Johansen or any of thousands
other real and pretend celebrities
selling their bodies.
If they do it, you’ll do it.
The competition is fierce.
I get it.
Just stop and think.
You’ve got a brain.
But I see the photos and they make me
believe you think
you’re so lovely the world just must
stop and admire the incomparable you.
That’s deeply needy, you know.
Flattery always contains the kernel of a lie.
Even though you are pretty, we
all play the DNA hand we’re dealt.
And also we’re all driven by chemical urges we
seldom understand, and don’t control.
It’s a little weird, I think,
the need to be reassured by the whole world.
Like a celebrity. If you do…
Who trained you to think this way?
Do you ever wonder about that?
Maybe some other time.
I need some sleep.
In case you haven’t noticed,
the world is on fire.
Want to be useful and not just ornamental?
Help put the fire out.
Get your hands dirty.
Quit worshiping yourself.
We all know that anyone so insecure
Must be hiding some huge blemishes.
No one is fooled except others like you.
Everyone has blemishes. Everyone. Not just you.
Quit telling me how powerful you are
when you base your power only on sex
and still need to flash skin for attention.
How about this: how about you lead by example?
Show us how much the sickness of
superficiality is poisoning us?
Be brave, not banal.
You know what?
That would be sexy.
Trust your brain, and then your heart.
Feelings are not always facts.
Fantasy won’t feed the bulldog,
And the bulldog will turn on you.
The freak show has gone on long enough,
Wouldn’t you agree?
Quit feeding the beast. Shame it.
Take away it’s power.
You’ll have my thanks.