Plastic Rockers, Plastic Gangsters: Poem

Plastic rockers

Plastic Gangsters

As 50 cent would call them

Wanksters

Both hype the stereotype

They both delight in the white

One snorts it up their nose

One sell it to buy new clothes

Sex, drugs, rock and roll

And being a tough guy is the goal

Skinny jeans and boots

Short hair and tracksuits

Reputation grows

Small music shows

Big fish in a small grey town

Beating people down

For the tough guy crown

Playing

Slaying

Fighting

Fading

To the mundane

The mystique they can’t contain

Younger boys are coming through

And music tastes are changing too

So reach for the stars

And battle for scars

Drive blood bought cars

They’re living a lie

The ego will die

Into their plastic spoon beginnings