Let It Bleed

[Erthona]

Let It Bleed
 
“The Wall”
we thought
of self-absorbed victim-hood
the top;
as Waters mutilated his mug,
using self pity as a drug,
bemoaning the fact that
his father was not there,
having died so his son might live,
to sit knee deep in fame,
while crying out in misery
of his isolation and fake pain.
 
That narcissistic apex would have to wait
for the coming of Frida Kahlo’s  patron saint,
the Madonna-whore of moral taint.
Unfortunately for poor Frida,
a pole rammed through the pelvis
gave validity to her complaint,
hardly the same as the legions
that adored her —suffering—
as though she was a kindred spirit.
There is not the slightest hint
of any similarity between her pain
and their moanings;
which have more to do
with not getting what they want,
than any missing need.
"They say their wound is internal,
I say let it bleed!"
 
Erthona
 
©2009-2015