That Day Barbie Walked Into Wacken

  
 
hold onto your knickers, this may roar  
 
   
   
   
Some things are underground for a reason  
Much mush  
pretty make up  
and half dressed    
mannequins  
have throughout history    
tried to turn    
the hardest    
of the underground movements  
into pretty-tinsel-laced  
e v e r y d a y  
environments  
It makes    
as much fucking sense as    
Michael Jackson  
being headmaster    
of kindergarten  
   
So while you read this  
thinking  
"yes but"  
I'm sorry  
-NO!  
If you're wanting to hear  
"hit me baby one more time"  
expect an axe guitar to the temple  
   
There are a million  
commercial    
pretty poetry websites  
There are thousands of  
publishers willing  
to print    
your wrecking ball  
   
But only one fucking  
underground  
that welcomes  
your cutting poem  
your sex change  
your death wish  
your hard core  
your heartache  
your heavy  
the love  
and the    
dark in  
YOU!  
   
Now I'm not saying pop  
shouldn't feature as an  
appetizing act  
I am saying  
we can't turn  
a death metal festival  
into grandma's  
peach-panty-tea'party  
    
While Karen  
and Justin    
arrive putting    
vases of daises  
on the toilet cistern    
-a mirror ball above the mic  
and a crop top on the drum kit  
   
pull out your leathers  
hold true to your heart  
swap it out  
for a skull coffin    
filled with    
black-fucking-roses  
   
Hold your own truth  
-apple pie  
has no place    
in suspenders  
and chastity devices!  
   
   
   
paint your love, in poetry as our forefathers did, but do it, just do it the underground way  
   
   
   
< end rant >