Plastic

I have always liked Simon Cowell

I remember Saturday evening's, Pop Idol on TV

My mum making critical but funny comments

At the “talent” paraded on TV

Finally she had met her match

In sky high waistband

And hairy chest

As I watched yesterday

Heard his words rip through souls

And dream

My ears pricked up at one sentence:

“You guys are over-rehearsed and insincere”

Five coffee-skinned

buff guys, with matching t-shirt

Slick Usher moves

Sweet harmony of voices

When asked how to spend $5million

Talked of helping community

Buying diapers for new baby

Yet shot down.

Even Simon Cowell

Million dollar mogul

With mansions galore

dates flawlessly dressed females

surrounded by musical artists

and the fickle nature of the recording industry

hates the fake.

“You’re not cold, you’re not hot – far better to be either cold or hot! You’re stale. You’re stagnant. You make me want to vomit. You brag, ‘I’m rich, I’ve got it made, I need nothing from anyone,’ oblivious that in fact you’re pitiful, blind beggar, threadbare and homeless.”

The dishonesty of the human heart

Can still be seen

On a stage

This world cries out

Pained scream

As she labours to birth

the authentic

The real

The truth

Who are we meant to be?

Not an imitation

Nor interpretation

But the true manifestation

of our inner self

and who it desires to be

truth

the truth of who you are

will set you free

for in that freedom

you can truly live

that is the John 10:10 life

to the full, to overflowing

fully who we are

fully who we were created to be

fake skunks the room

bellies doubled over

retching in the aisle

as it walks past

some are lulled in

bought into the lie

but only temporarily

knock off Guchi’s are noticed

in fair time

Flawless divas

pass the dutch 

and walk the halls

envy turns to disdain

then back to pity

you see them for what they are

cold shiny plastic.