Catwalk ****es Must Die!

by Carey Lenehan

Begone Oh Lofty Wenches to your Catwalks in the sky

Begone and take thine graven image from before mine eye

Stalk your way to paradise on six- inch, spike- heeled shoes

And prattle to the Maker about fashion’s changing hues

Dent His ear eternally with gossip of rich men

Force Him to endure your endless tripe, and then

Reduce Him to a jellied heap with just one awesome stare

Before you slip your tops off to bombard Him with your ‘pair’

Not those which He did give you, Oh No, dare I should jest!

But ones which have been tweaked and puffed, deflated and the rest

Show cheekbones which do arch, as none should ever do

Then divest of all your clothing just to see what else is new

To strut, to stalk, to pout, to pose, all this is everlasting

Until such day as we can be, of you, completely blasting

Get off our screens, out of our faces, begone before our eyes

To torture not imperfect souls, from heaven’s fluffy skies

Depart at once, unto the all- eternal, divine- divide

And get thee hence from here before my lustful, desperate eyes

I wish to be as graceful, as tall and slim as thee

Yet as I can’t, not now or ever, I wish thou not to be

I’d rather live a giant, in a world where all are small

Than live my life a dwarf, with all around me tall

And worst of all, false virgins reign, visions of ideals

To which I never will attain, a midget in high heels!