Bonus Poem of the Week: One American Male’s Self-Defense against Adamantly Nude Women in the Media

One American Male’s Self-Defense against Adamantly Nude Women in the Media
November 8, 2016

How dare you label me a shallow, sexist, philistine sod
For expecting more of a woman than an admittedly gorgeous bod!
Congratulations for feeling comfortable in your own skin,
But if it’s my heart you want, showing yourself off’s no way to win.

How dare you vilify me for expecting dignity
And modesty to guide you in proving to the world you can be
More than just a sack of skin and bones in society’s eyes
That always unveils itself for the sight of certain gals and guys!

How dare you accuse me of forcing my “tyrannical” will onto you
When I know damn well it’s your own body and you’re going to do
What you want, no matter what any man or woman says what’s right,
Even though you know you’ll dress back up once you’ve reached your twilight!

How dare you get in the faces of men just like me
When you’ve got women, too, telling you whom and what you ought to be!
Don’t you dare go crying “Oppression!” when guys like me aren’t alone
In getting sick of your agenda and the attitude you own,

For once here in the States, folks were disgusted with nudity,
Seeing it as either a wanton expression of sexuality
Or a desperate attempt by some women (and men) to say, “Hey! Look at me!
Come feast your eyes on my body. Ain’t it some nice eye candy?”

Nowadays, though, we’ve come to see it as possibly a little more,
But that doesn’t mean that the old messages haven’t headed out the door,
And quite frankly, each time I hear about a woman or even a man
Who seems to be on an okay path shedding her or his clothes for the cam,

I can’t help but shake my head and roll my eyes in utter disgust
And ask myself of the human race, “Is this what’s become of us?”
‘Cause let me be honest: What you’re showing me is nothing new,
And in contrast, what you’ve got doesn’t look any prettier on you.

I’m not like “other guys (or gals)” who find the human form
Something to be mesmerized by when it stands ‘fore me unadorned.
I find no profound meaning in musculature or contours,
And if that makes me shallow, then so be it, ‘cause really, I’ve been bored

With almost every naked body I’ve seen in my lifetime,
And even the few I’ve been attracted to in hindsight weren’t sublime.
There was never anything special ‘bout them, no matter how distinct.
Sure, each body may tell a story, but never has one made me think

Or feel enough to care beyond, “This really isn’t my concern,”
For when it comes to others’ tales—not tails—I’d rather learn
By word of mouth or word on page, not via bodily display.
Tell. Don’t show. That’s how I’ll know how to feel for you in some way.

Nudity, though, just annoys me ‘cause I’ve seen it all before.
Yes, bodies are bodies and parts are parts, but to me, they mean nothing more.
If you want me to give a damn ‘bout you, you’ve got to show me more.
Your mind, your heart, your spirit, your soul…what else have you in store?

You want me to connect with you? How do you think or feel?
What do you stand for or against? Show me thus how you’re a big deal.
I can already tell you’ve got a form. Now show me what’s within.
Is there more to you that I should know? ‘Cause that’s the phase I’m in.

Lust does nothing for me. I need something that lasts much longer.
Twenty minutes in bed’s a waste of my time, lest there’s something stronger
Connecting me to my mate, so for crying out loud, share with me
The substance beneath your skin. Then you can share your body with me.

Clobbering me with beauty, though, will only drive me away,
Leaving you in my dust so you can pose for someone else another day
While I cross paths with Miss Essence, who doesn’t treat me like an ape
And you’re stuck with depraved weirdoes who stare at you and gape.

The “sex and nudity” stigma, after all, won’t likely go away,
No matter how immature it may be, which is the price you must pay
If you pose nude for anything, so take that however you may,
And don’t be surprised if posing bites you in the bare ass one day,

No matter your message or other motive ‘cause that’s just how things go.
“The Fappening,” for example, wasn’t all that long ago.
Remember Shannon Elizabeth? Yeah…that sounds about right…
And how profound has any Playboy model’s fame been on one’s life,

Minus, say, the likes of Jenny McCarthy or Pamela Anderson?
How many such girls live up to their legend once their days are done?
Sure, they may have their money, but where has their fame taken them?
Are any of them even proud yet of what they did way back when?

You get the point, so I won’t go on, but just remember this:
Nudity will only take you so far into any kind of bliss.
Afterwards, I’m willing to bet you it’ll all blow up in your face,
Lest you prove to the world you’re more than just a body with a face.

Better yet, you should’ve been doing just that since day one of your life
And not bothered yourself one bit with this public nudity tripe.
Such shameless boasting, after all, is much shallower and
More superficial than you might think, seeing as there are other ways grand

Enough to make the statement of how comfortable you are
With your body without you baring all, so why not raise the bar
And prove to us all that beauty isn’t only for model types
And show us your beauty another way to avoid conservative gripes?

Subtlety’s much sexier, anyways, so take that to heart,
And with that in mind, I’m sure you’re smart enough to find a new start
In promoting yourself as desirable without the blatant show
That’s landed so many in hot water whose names I’m sure you know.

In short, just because nudity’s finally being accepted these days
Doesn’t make me a villain for holding on to my conservative ways.
Just don’t expect me to crawl after you in the instance you do bare all
‘Cause I’m all for substance over skin and shan’t heed any nude siren’s call.


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