Fairy Wails

GOLD MINE, Coming soon…

 

Fairy Wails

Where is this hero

Who is so oft spoke of?

Where it this mythological man,

Who saves the day,

Who mends the heart

And lights the way?

Where is the hero

Who wasn’t fucked up

by his mother?

Who melts the bitterness of betrayal?

Who elevates all men

By the virtue of his stature,

And the stature of his virtue?

Who is truly decent?

Whose mistakes are honest?

Whose motives are care and concern and

LOVE?

Is he real?

 

They show us all those films in our girlhood,

They give us Barbie dolls,

That we can never look like,

And read us fairy tales…

If life is bad,

If there are wicked people,

And, or, relations,

If you are too beautiful for words,

Loved by dwarfs and forest animals,

Trapped in a tower,

Got hold of a bad apple,

Or slept for a thousand years – without aging-

Have they got a man for you!

Just dial 1-555-bulshit.

Press 1 for English,

2 for Princess, and 3,

For peasant girl who can’t get a break,

And listen closely,

As his options may have changed.

 

Would he arrive in an orange Corvette?

With a solo Manolo,

That no mortal woman could ever afford the mate to?

I’m not bitter,

I just wonder,

If any of it is real,

At all,

The fairy tales,

The propaganda films that prime us

For disaster.

And is that disappointment

The ultimate control?

Leaving us too devastated

To kiss another toad,

Attend another dance,

Or even manage to get out of bed?

Is that why she slept so long?

She didn’t think he was coming?

 

Who is Prince Charming?

What did he say?

Stay alive, no matter what,

With your Jay Googly Goo Expectations –

And I will find you —

And compare thee to horrible fictional women,

Who had the full benefit of knowing,

Exactly what the hell was going on,

I will harass thee and insult thee,

Oh, my darling,

For a change of pace,

And call thee a whore,

Because that’s never been done before.

That Prince Charming?

Stay awake for him?

 

Why does a woman have to wait?

Why is the woman made to guess?

Why is the woman left to watch the movie again,

And rely on her dreams,

For hope,

For Love?

Why didn’t the Women’s Libbers

Burn all of the Prince Charming stories

With their bras?

That is the true crime,

That is the beginning of the brainwashing.

When they first convince us

That Snow White

Is really a porno flick?

They begin trying

To take it away

So soon,

The dream,

Of some clean romance,

Of being swept off one’s feet,

Before the deed.

 

They never say

That Romeo will come

Then go,

And lie to us,

To lie with us.

They never say that he will not be

Forthright in his dealings,

Or explain himself at all.

Doesn’t he know that a thousand years of sleep,

Leaves a modern chic with a low tolerance

For sadism?

Why does the woman always have to figure everything out?

Put the puzzle back together,

With half the pieces missing and a box of silly putty?

Why is the woman held accountable,

For wanting the very thing

They promised her in Technicolor cartoon animal musical numbers,

Since her birth?

 

It’s a sad day in the kingdom,

When Cinderella has to save herself,

Or starve to death waiting,

Is it for her own good?

Or just the kind of line

They give

When they don’t intend to make good

On their end of things —

“We know you signed up for the deluxe rescue package,

But in today’s economy,

We’ve cut funding to peasant girl bail outs.”

 

With no formal education,

No decoder ring,

A gal can’t make out the fine print.

The old days were better,

When all a girl had to do,

Was drop that shoe.

 

And the right thing?

Well that’s what every girl is waiting for.

How much faith is a woman required to have?

For how long?

How many betrayals does it take,

To get to the chewy center

Of a true believer?

And the truth?

Can a woman tell a truth she doesn’t know?

All the cloak and dagger get out of the dance by midnight shit—

Has worn thin.

After a thousand years,

Who would blame Sleeping Beauty,

If she was afraid that Prince Charming

We’re only another hoax?

Everyone.

That’s who would blame her,

Everyone.

Call Leonard Nimoy, call Muldar and Scully,

Call Kolchak, Kojack and Huggy Bear,

Put out an APB,

Re-Examine the Zapruder film,

And that clip of Sasquatch looking over her shoulder,

Find the man who fits the description given by women the world over…

“I saw something, I’m just not sure what it was.”

 

Extra, extra, read all about it,

Cinderella, The Dumb Blonde,

Remains devastating,

Despite having been,

Left baffled,

By unidentified mythological man-like creature,

Alias, “Prince Charming”,

And a wicked bout with PMS.

She was missing a shoe,

Had cold feet,

She got her PhD. In Philosophy,

Online,

While barefoot,

And decided, who needs this bullshit anyway?

Her singles ad says,

She hates propaganda films.

 

 

 

from Gold Mine, copyright 2009, Teri Skultety, all rights reserved

( Written for someone close to me who was going through a bitter divorce. Writers are not always everything they write. Latitude. )



Categories: Culture, excerpt, Fiction, goddess dressing, Gold Mine, grace, Have you got a goal?, humor, I found my bitter pills, philosophy, poem, Poetry, prose, Resilience and The Modern Woman, strength, The Smart Set

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