Inked by Jodie Rose McLoughlin

Inked
from an early age
Washed
in branded soap

Cleansed and prepared
To follow the crowd,  from that pliable age you’re taught.
To do as you’re told, be good subjects
and suppress
all rebellious thoughts.

Marked and scratched
Under your skin
Permanently
Like a bad tattoo
Can’t be wiped away.
Unless you have the money
To get it removed
It is here to stay.

What you see
in the mirror
is not a true reflection
Of yourself

Yet that is what they will judge you on
Anyway,
who cares?

We do not fit into the their besuited cubist boxes,
their abstract perceptions.
The ink labelled   standards
masking insecurities within.
Them: so critical and judging behind an airbrushed reality
whilst the big boys rub their hands together,
raking it in.

With smarmy, smug grins.
“Spend your last penny,
Seal your fate in debts hellfire.
Don’t sweat it,
but remember to compete with your Sisters
because we know what all you ladies desire.”

As the advert dazzles you with it’s colours
and the catchy jingle gets into your head,
crave to consume what you do not need,
sedentary, robotically,
hypnotically
Force fed.”

Junkies
Scratch your arse like a monkey
and don’t mind the important stuff.
Like who’s running the world and controlling your future.
Too stuffed and apathetic to say when ‘enough is enough’.

To the showmen
(rarely women)
whose slick PR is hard to stem.

In all truth,
it’s easier to believe what you’re told.

In reality
Honesty
looks good on them
but LIAR
should be their anthem.

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