Metalcatto
Time to give you satirical poetry again
The snake that eats itself backwards.
The anus that explodes forward.
Words stuffed with technical jargon:
ubiquitous, pulmonary embolism,
intestinal trench.
Nothing that makes a lick of sense.
Because you don’t want meaning.
You want the hammer.
The never-ending blasting.
A succession of animal noises,
blast beats, and farting.
That is the music that keeps us relapsing.
There’s no dignity in this quest.
No honor. No sanctity for the insane.
Because if you dig through all these shades of metal,
chances are your brain has already turned to clay.
Yet back you crawl
toward the unfathomable pain,
like another idiot moth to the flame.
Yes, that line was a cliché.
Because every riff has already been played.
We’re just here to spin the same key,
the same worn-out obsession,
still hoping—
against all evidence—
to be surprised
by four new trends.
Metal Eclipse Reviews 