I am THE SEX GODDESS OF THE WESTERN HEMISPHERE
so don’t mess with me
I’ve got a big bag full of SEX TOYS
and you can’t have any
’cause they’re all mine
’cause I’m
the SEX GODDESS OF THE WESTERN HEMISPHERE.

“Hey,” you may say to yourself,
“who the hell’s she tryin’ to kid,
she’s no sex goddess,”
But trust me,
I am
if only for the fact that I have
the unabashed gall
to call
myself a SEX GODDESS,
I mean, after all,
it’s what so many of us have at some point thought,
we’ve all had someone
who worshipped our filthy socks
and barked like a dog when we were near
giving us cause
to pause and think: You know, I may not look like much
but deep inside, I am a SEX GODDESS.

Only
we’d never come out and admit it publicly
well, you wouldn’t admit it publicly
but I will
because I am
THE SEX GODDESS OF THE WESTERN HEMISPHERE.

I haven’t always been
a SEX GODDESS
I used to be just a mere mortal woman
but I grew tired of sexuality being repressed
then manifest
in late night 900 number ads
where 3 bodacious bimbettes
heave cleavage into the camera’s winking lens and sigh:

“Big Girls oooh, Bad Girls oooh, Blonde Girls oooh,
you know what to do, call 1-900-UNMITIGATED BIMBO ooooh.”

Yeah
I got fed up with the oooh oooh oooh oooh oooh
I got fed up with it all
so I put on my combat boots
and hit the road with my bag full of SEX TOYS
that were a vital part of my SEX GODDESS image
even though I would never actually use
my SEX TOYS
’cause my being a SEX GODDESS
it isn’t a SEXUAL thing
it’s a POLITICAL thing
I don’t actually have SEX, no
I’m too busy taking care of
important SEX GODDESS BUSINESS,
yeah,
I gotta go on The Charlie Rose Show
and MTV and become a parody
of myself and make
buckets full of money off my own inane brand
of self-righteous POP PSYCHOLOGY
because my pain is different
because I am a SEX GODDESS
and when I talk,
people listen
why ?
Because, you guessed it,
I AM THE SEX GODDESS OF THE WESTERN HEMISPHERE
and you’re not.

Analysis, meaning and summary of Maggie Estep's poem Sex Goddess

2 Comments

  1. Salola says:

    This poem is like wheels without an engine

  2. j bradford says:

    This poem is like an engine without wheels

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