What's beauty?
What's truly pretty?
Is this really in people
Or is it really on people?
I wonder as I with the idea grapple.

Look at them now, look!
look at the grotesquery.
Perhaps start with the head;
an imperfect sphere
nudged here and there
for a couple of eyes,
a hollow – the mouth –
for eating and utterance,
a pinch at the middle for a nose,
and the ears – Jesus!
What a piece of imagination?

Then come down to the torso -
what a scarecrow?
limbs hang out from it
like jungle fruits dying off.
The legs sticking out
like a pair of dividers.
What's beauty?
Is on the exterior or
Is it in the interior
of the human imbodiment?

Oh, how I wish
I'ld be true
to what I mean
'Bout beauty – What irony?