Follow the yellow brick road

We both knew all the words

To each of the numbers

And most of the steps

But neither wanted to be first

To break into song

Cowardly as the proverbial lion

Surrounded by the judgement

Of our peers and their puerile

Forays into social exclusion

At a dumbed-down video sleepover

Where MGM was not associated

With Leo or Slats,

Black and white was ‘boring’

And they had never heard of

Noir, or the Studio System

But could recite the calorific content

Of black coffee, chicken soup

And the price of keeping

On their uppers

Slim Pickings

I cannot watch another film

Filled with wispy heroines

And their ‘to die for’ figures

Those dreams were snuffed out

Alongside Diana’s candle in the wind

Like Havisham’s Estella

They are conceived in spite

To break lonely hearts

No, give me a fat-hearted flick

With plaster food on every table

And I will feed my soul

In comfort

Body Building

Comfortable in my own skin
For a thousand years or more
Inner calm and outer grin
Oozing from every pore

Tender care for follicles
That blossom forth with fur
Showing off unruly curls
That underline his ‘her’

Nibbled nails that niggle
Catching, snagging, telling tales
Tiny scars that wriggle
As hands flex and curl and wave

Gentle as a monolith
That towers high above
The pillory of Lilith
For whom Adam held no love

That’s OK! (by me)

Never try to date musicians
Actors, players or politicians
All who make fame their lifelong mission
Feel compelled to keep ambition

Uppermost in their mind’s eye.
Resisting those whose hopes may lie
In other kinds of pie-filled sky,
Aspire to happiness: decry

The complex marketing campaigns
To fill your dreams with endless strains
Of violins, and chilled champagne
(Someone is selling something vain)

You’re not obliged to join, partake
In putting out, appearing, fake
So falsely cheerful, on the make
We don’t all want the same big break

And there are many paths to tread
That do less harm and keep you fed
You could just read a book instead
To fill your soul, first fill your head

The January Blues

I am finding my diet depressing
(A first world complaint, you’ll agree)
For in spite of the shakes, and the carbs, and the breaks
I am moody, sore, tired and hungry

Yet they tell me it’s worth it to diet
It shows character, willpower, poise
And with less spent on meat, you invest what you’d eat
In a dress to attract all the boys

So I guess I should stick with the program
For another few days at the least
If I make it that far, on an energy bar
You could use to scrub pots of their grease

I’m not sure I buy in to the concept
That the thin are more healthy and glam
And a girl in her prime must waste quite so much time
On starvation to bag her a man

No, I’m doing this thing to feel healthy
So the stairs are not quite such a chore
If eschewing all cheese, last year’s jeans pass my knees
It’s a bonus worth nothing at all

Di A(na) Bolique

What are we to do these days?
Eating is our latest craze.
People suffer dreadful guilt
Over sustenance they’ve spilt.
Yet food is not in short supply
So I don’t understand the why:
Some stuff their faces, comforting
While others starve just to stay thin!
No, I just cannot fathom it
Such depth of feeling over shit.
Where once we ate to stay alive,
Fed our bodies to survive;
Now boutique-style, we pick and choose
And body-mass we vow to lose.
Each New Years Eve that comes and goes,
We weigh ourselves and try on clothes
To chart our progress over time
And wail about our new waistline.
I’ll never get the reason why
Some choose to eat and some to die.