I see you up there, strutting your indulgence,
All rage and testosterone. Life has been tough,
And an angry rant makes you feel like the man,
More powerful, in control. You tell the truth-no lie
Your version, that is, the gospel, according to yourself-
But it isn’t good news. It’s pain and pretention, Neverland
Delivered to a throbbing back beat, percussive and loud,
As if your heartsound has to be amplified exponentially
To make it real.
You remind me of kids playing at wild Indians
Gotten up and fancied, whooping and hollering,
In your iconic finery so everyone will think it’s real
As you do your war dance in the colored spotlights,
Hoping to take yourself and your followerrs somewhere
They’ve never been before, a Nirvana of excess and destruction,
Mindless. Guess what? You’re not there yet, nowhere near.
You’ve a long way to go, and I hope you never get
To where you say you’re going..
I’ve been among the savages, my friend, trust me.
I can tell you that the real is so much more horrifying
Than any inferno your mind can conjure up, or try to palm
Off to the unsuspecting and naïve as what’s really happening,
Because it ain’t. There be real dragons in those places,
Monsters beyond any you’ve ever encountered, and the bitch is
That the worst is the one the mirror reflects back at you,
Always willing to teach the amateurs and the wannabes
How to play for keeps.
April 15, 2010