Monday, December 15, 2003


'Twas blackened and the cross pierced lobes
did gyre and gimbol to the Smiths
All mascar'ed the eyes in droves
And the capes of scarlet drifts

Beware the Candy Goth my son,
Daughter, listen to the Cure
Beware the Candy Goth - they try
an alternative most unpure

Tis a world of fiction weav'd
Where attitude is based on looks
So "now" be the fashion sleev'd
Empty of the world of books.

Thus with dark t-shirt in hand
Like a snackfood in the oven,
So they sought to exposé
The fashion victim's would-be coven.

One two one two, "I'm lost, are you?"
A haunted strain did echo back
They found it there with stainéd hair
and Gucci slippers coloured black.

And hast thou seen the Candy Goth?
Weep thou not, my pallid child.
Rather know they can't survive
In the realms beset by Wilde.

(Dedicated to that coiner of good words, Hansi!)

No comments :