After reading Aurora’s Complaint at a local poetry night I got the idea to create a whole series of ‘Pissed Off Princesses’ performance poems. This is the second in that series.
It was always the same,
day in, day out,
‘handsome’ men calling my name
and demanding I drop my hair down to them
like some glorified rope.
They wanted to ‘rescue’ me
and marry me.
There was no way I was letting them
climb my tower.
That’s why I changed my hair,
to spite them.
At first I wanted to cut it off,
the lot of it.
Snip! Gone forever.
But then I thought:
How can I really piss them off?
It came to me
while listening to the Sex Pistols.
Of course, why hadn’t I seen it before?
It was perfect.
They’d see the length
but there was no way they could climb it.
Besides, I’d always wanted to go Punk.
So the next time some guy came
to the tower claiming to have slain
a dragon to get to me
(which is bullshit, by the way)
and told me to
‘let down’ my hair,
I stuck my head out of the window.
“Whadda ya want?”
I don’t think it pissed him off
so much as scared him shitless.
Which wasn’t quite the desired effect
but seemed to work nonetheless,
since he ran for the hills
and never came back.