Wedding china rattles, whispers break like glass

She parades in borrowed lace,
Press shots, sugar paste.
But the name she carved on that wristband tag
Scratches like claws from a paper bag.

Every crib bell rings familiar,
Like the jingle on my radiator.

She called her kid like my cat—cheap imitation,
Scratched-up glory, no imagination.
Nursery’s painted, but the joke’s on her,
’Cause I hear whiskers every time I purr.

Her smug smile smells of powdered skin,
But all I taste is the litter bin.
Behind the lullabies and staged applause,
I hear my tabby sharpening claws.

Every rattle’s got the same old sound,
Echo of paws still running around.

She called her kid like my cat—cheap imitation,
Scratched-up glory, no imagination.
Nursery’s painted, but the joke’s on her,
’Cause I hear whiskers every time I purr.

Baptism bowl or water dish,
Stealing names won’t grant her wish.
She plays the saint with a plagiarized crown,
But cats don’t kneel, they tear thrones down.

Copycat cradle—falling apart.
Copycat cradle—poor little start.

She called her kid like my cat—cheap imitation,
Scratched-up glory, no imagination.
Forever branded with a borrowed fur,
I’ll keep the original—she’ll always be a blur.

Rattling dishes, silence bites back.

She called her kid like my cat (Scandipop reload)

The entire sound is in my hands. I write cyber poetry, produce, and compose every track ready for Immersive 3D. Every beat is crafted for spatial and next-gen headphones.
Intimate lyrics, total immersion, every track.

For 30 years I kept unfinished demos to myself, never letting them out. Now I finish what I start and release it the moment it’s alive.

I use every tool available, human or machine, as an instrument.
Technology doesn’t replace creativity. It expands it.

She called her kid like my cat (Scandipop reload)

Terminalose