A poem about this work of art, this obviously inspiring telling masterpiece that speaks for an entire age that keeps recurring like a dream, no, nightmare!

“Mashed Metallica”        


Concrete, blood, punk, trash-        

Icons from a new age bash        

Synthetic fiber molten key        

Stuck in the wall        

For all to see.        


Caution- burnt words hanging here        

Recite them and you’ll slowly die        

Chains, bags, dead poet's tapes        

Holding decades of magnetic lies.        


Gray, white, yellow, red        

Colors of the new unborn dead        

And finally mashed metallica        

Retrieved from a burned out bygone city.        


Like those who came before them        

The new wave splats the mess together        

Then they look at it in abject wonder-        

As it reflects their young live's stormy weathers.        


“We were here” it loudly screams        

Two messed up lives are in it,        

From start to finish a bunch of crap.        

Aw shit. I see us in it.        





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