Oh Vanessa, Vanessa,
where do you get off?
with your dark overlord poetry,
another trendy hip goth.
Vampiric feasting from honest dark grief,
poetic death porn, for your gratuitous relief.
Stand up! Stand up! You superstar!
Perform and pose, so we see who you are.
Don’t think of your morals, your duty, or ethics,
just another shock jock out to get your death fix.
Don’t think of the victims, dead or alive,
those with slashed apart souls just trying to strive,
to cope with the day and get through to the end,
with ripped apart lives that can never mend;
trying to breathe, lungs molten with mourning,
to those who’ve met death without prior warning,
who’ve stood at the edge of the gaping abyss,
and see your floor show for the ego fix that is.
Just think of your creed, your name and your art,
don’t care for the wake of what’s torn apart.
After all – responsibility – is it all yours?
Oh no – surely not – you perform for your cause!
I’ll remember your face and your soft slick show,
as you pose to the kids on your high pedestal;
but the audience was captive, no choice in the matter,
as you trotted out mentally destructive chatter.
Stuck on the front in the audience stare,
in a flashback that rendered me froze to the chair,
reliving the horror, of the cruelty of death,
the pain and the agony spewed from your breath.
Did you even know what you had done?
either ignorance, or intended, it can’t be undone.
You’ve uncaged a monster that now preys on my mind,
I cannot conceive someone can be that unkind,
So that takes me to ignorance, and the stupidity is,
Oh Vanessa, Vanessa, it was you that did this.
© Vanessa 25.11.2014
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Picture credit: Pinteresthttps://uk.pinterest.com/pin/524317581589569768/