The Lead Vocalist
with an ego the
size of the
mother****ing
sun
glaring out upon
us all as if
to personally
manufacture a
“god” in the
face of the adoring
fans with slobber
hanging from their
mouths, dogs let
out loose for the
last piece of bloody
meat who will
worship anything
with an ass stuffed
in tight pants who
will bow at the alter
of the blustering
bulge bound in
those leather pants
who will believe the
prerecorded studio
singing tracks who
will stand back stage
waiting to eat them
out who will pay
a million for their
leopard pants---
this one wo/man
who bears no talent
but to open their
****ing mouth
wins all the hearts
& does the least
to provide anything
for the rest of the
band & when they
leave the whole
world of adoration
is brought to its
knees, as if the
drummer, the bassist,
the guitarist & anybody
else who got dragged
along for the ride
never existed to begin
with.
Copyright © Andrew Delapruch | Year Posted 2012
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment