The Plastic surgeon's BBQ

 At the plastic surgeon's barbeque

On the 19th of November

I had to attend the bash

There were supermodels and women who waddled

Because their pockets were so filled with cash

There were hips which lied

And lips which never told the truth

Because they hid under the botox lid

And fake booby traps were the proof

As I wandered around the congregation

Who had gathered round the grill

The band were playing Radio head

And sounding kind of shrill

And the heat of the coals was scolding

And the sausages sizzled and fried

And the fat burnt down into the fire

Like from a burnt sacrifice

Who are the Gods you worship?

I asked after a while

But they turned to me and pointed to false idols

Standing in a magazine Style

Kournety Love, and Kurt Cobain,

And garage and of grunge

And all those Pops stars who made their names

After taking somekind of plunge

But they were never fake I said

Never plastic, though man made

They were the real thing like a choir that sings

Carols on Christmas Day

But in their expression I could see no understanding there

Their faces were taut like tennis rackets brought

Down on the ball to bear

Hard and like a lion

Rearranged like a puzzle

Lumps that began to shift

As a harness around a dog's muzzle

You see the plastic surgeon's bbq had begun

To destroy his own wax works,

And slowly they were all melting

As a candle does in a church

And the next time I turned they had become

Just pools of melting silcone

With some bones, that shone alone

Which attracted the dog's attention

And the plastic surgeon was on his knees

Thinking of his own destruction

And how would his customers ever pay the bills

On their own reconstruction

Never speak of this he said

For this is a tale of the living dead

Who wished for correction on what was fed them

Through false images on internet or television

That pool there was an instagram influencer

And her over there was a lottery winner

And he was a fat cat who wanted to be thinner

But it was all to no avail

For this is living dead told in a moral tale

Don't get too close to the flame

For like the moth you will

Burn

See their ashes and you'll learn

The true price of celebrity's fame

I asked him if the sausages were burnt

He put them in a bap and I said haven't you learnt

You need health and safety at an event like this

He said his fire officer had fallen off a cliff

I said what a faux par, no he was driving a car

And he was a crash test dummy

I said is everyone around you fake today?

Well I thought it couldn't hurt it was my own birthday

I invited them here and now here they'll stay

Buried under the patio

Well at that I decided to take my leave

He told me not to wear my heart on my sleeve

I said it was in the right place and he

Offered me some plastic surgery