The Barbie Cycle

The Barbie poems were composed - are being written - over a period of more then twenty years.  Each poem builds on references to earlier ones as well as being an individual piece.  In order to prevent them being lost in the dark corners of blog archives, I have decided to bring them all together:  a Barbie House party, as it were.









The Barbie Cycle 1

Barbie

we were launched in the same year, you and me:

my legs are not madly elongated: like yours

nor do my breasts proclaim the pyramids

I hope my stare is thoughtful not vapid

and bless me, my hair is more manageable.

I can grasp objects and work

my arms bend too and

I can wear flat shoes

but Barbie O Barbie

how I envy your crutch:

smooth crack- and hair- less

with only the suggestion of a declivity

behind

are you not racked by lust or guilt

eternal virgin

priestess of the impossible fuck?

The Barbie Cycle 2

Barbie, O Barbie, now we are fifty

they are writing about you in the paper

I get to age in private

poor you

they say you would have back pain

yup, me too

they say you would have osteoporosis

girl, let’s keep the blinkers on and drink more milkshakes

they say you would wear glasses

I’ve worn them for years, very sexy ones

they say you would have grey hair

a girl like you, no problems with the dye

me, I’m relishing every strand of earned silver

they say you might be shorter

darling, I’ve spent my life down here

they say you would have trouble standing up

what with your impressive breasts and waist

they just don’t know do they?

my tits have shrunk and sunk into my waist

fast-growing to support them

but, Barbie

you’re still kicking ass, right?

still in love with lust?

still no fulfilment – the eternal virgin?

poor you

The Barbie Cycle 3

Barbie the Mole?

have you swapped sides, you invidious chameleon? 

now equipped with a video camera

 on your chest – of course 

and play-back screen, cunningly inserted in your

electronic back

if becoming Barbie is what girls dream of,

are we now bionic spies of ourselves?

is Barbie the paedophile’s ideal toy

and how long before we are all wired

and monitored

and down-loadable

chipped           coded              digitised 

the perfect tracking toy

The Barbie Cycle 4

Barbie, the Icon of our Dreams

if you were a feminist, in suit and tie

or a plumber in overalls,

would you wear pink?

can a plaything be a feminist person?

all our hate and frustration is

focussed on you, small plastic

fetish

if you can’t have it all –

hairy armpits, purple stubble,

the tattoo,

the lesbian lover

the broken-hearted Ken

and the PhD in the gender implications at the Quantum Point

what hope do we have?

the pink Cadillac

The Barbie Cycle 5




Tattoo Barbie

I hear you’ve been pregnant

I hear you had a tat on your tum

body piercings next?

love, washable baby tattoos

hearts and flowers and bambi

Oh no!

Barbie-wire, a dagger

a bleeding rose

a crumbling skull

and your foot on Ken’s face

fifty means freedom girl

The Barbie Cycle 6

New Jewels for Barbie

your most expensive look your newest incarnation Argyll pink diamonds in a collar of glitter  darling you’re wearing well at 51, with youth fading past we all know the answer is bling!  Stefano’s black frock a face lift                     and diet  are you getting any yet?

The Barbie Cycle 7

Ken-Ken

Time    stands still                         for style icons.   Take Ken                                     turning 50 this year
	Back in the day                       Ken                         felt             male His                                 lush blond locks
My guess Ken works out             He is wise                    strong melt factor he slips away Gone are the days he doesn’t want to look like a loser Ken is gay                   a handbag                    draws a blank
	Is that why Barbie dropped him?             because Ken started    relaxing            his prostate her pink                       the pink           the pink            the pink Ken has developed a taste

Found poem, after an article in The Age, January 2011




The Barbie Cycle 8

Plastic Love

Let the public vote!  no mind beats in the vacant chest of that malleable coy mistress

Barbie

how can we call it

   love

projected onto those guardians of our childish hearths 

the Lares and Penates of the Pink World?

Love does not bend unless it’s plastic: 

worth unknown but price precise, with discount, tax and shipping

Barbie’s not Time’s fool:  her fuchsia lips and cheeks

blanche only to fashion’s dictate

and alter to match the marketing brief

 – even to the edge of taste and decorum

Ken dallied with the Toys

while Barbie surfed the dating game

now he’s asking us to choose for her  

what hope do our full-sized selves have if elections determine love?

The Barbie Cycle 9

Letter to Ken

There you are in the news again

I don’t want to write another poem about you

I am bored Ken, tired of your games, filled with ennui,

a new face – you certainly needed it but I’m not sure it’s an improvement

a new ‘internet reality show’ – that’s an oxymoron I think? 

your backers want you to compete with Her in the fashion-plate stakes – what?

‘the ultimate boyfriend for every occasion’ 

so you are to be enhanced to resemble

a neck-less, brain-less booby

pumped with iron and steroids  

hairless and toothy (they report nothing of your crutch so I can only guess) 

full of romantic gestures 

you have gone from plastic mannequin to plastic god-freak 

truly a fitting consort to that diva in pink

I think they are lying:  you are not built to celebrate boyfriend-hood

rather the ultimate genie of

The Man