Beauty is served on a silver dish,
garnished lavishly
with parsley and celery
and an apple like a roast pig.
It is unveiled and presented
to whoever has the money to pay,
it’s not cheep
but if the money is good
no one asks questions.
Beauty is simply placed
on a properly made table
and left to be tasted,
enjoyed,
consumed until it runs like fat
down the chins of fat bureaucrats .
Beauty is artfully crafted,
perfected artificially in the backroom.
The natural masked
behind a velvet curtain.
The natural is not for the public to see.
A grotesque monstrosity,
unappealing to the pallet,
only cooked, glazed and dressed
is Beauty presentable.
Naïve, the public does not think…
think of the hours,
of the sweat and tears,
of the loss.
All they think of is their
greedy desire for manufactured
Beauty.