blue sky the roads in your eyes
we smoked
outside after your show
the happy ones laughed and drank
we looked
and sniffed the air filled with LA River scent
we parted
i stayed behind with my pagodas my cheap wine and that g g allin tshirt
we
Punk
coping a feel
spread the WLS
punk podium prophet
thanks to Rob Banks Punk Pope ♡
spread the WLS
barbed wire
it was quick easy clean and graceful dreams today for me are sharp
wires on the way over hard horizon the heart is tossed away there are some music notes along side like comets
mocking heart in her exile away from him
upon the crossing of that place heart’s lost hind sight again with only tear salted picture frames of his hand no longer holding her
spread the WLS
blackened gold
for R Banks ♤
lips caress
the pain from my mind
blue eyes stroke my dying soul
beneath the surface of the black night
while in the frenzy of Danzig’s song you offer me a sip of water puffing away at native tobacco plucking at Goldie’s chords your life rearranged across your chest just a foreword to the quest that brought us two together
spread the WLS
lost on the way
ya ever listen to sister Tharpe wailing on her guitar while spiking up your mohawk
strumming and tugging at my strands as her sweet sultry honey melts into my ear veins
getting ready for TSOL to play on the Sunst Strip in LA balls to the wall sexy hell
underage but i don’t care the way i’ve been living i’m going no where
life was too lively growing up at home so i ran from the folks
and broke all the rules danced on the shore at 7 past noon
big black ugly boots Cinderella slippers were for fools
stick my tongue out at the sky fill my nose up with white lies
scratches cuts bruises and tears bloody trousers fists in the air
scent of cars black smoke and politicos resign my gender go underworld
Christ Savior i see the Son can You explain why i felt at 3 like 21
riding on the bus with the ladies of the night shift who went to clean the houses of the rich
indignation in their smile as bright brown eyes fell on my style
echoing in the length of the trains how can this child spit on the American dream
missing the point in what i conveyed symptom of the American nightmare lost on the way
spread the WLS
mosh pit review haiku
he slammed his way through
with fury and poised intent
one punk at a time
spread the WLS
mosh pit review haiku
he slammed his way through
with fury and poised intent
one punk at a time
spread the WLS
after the X show
the soft cool feather strokes of breeze fingered through my shaggy tangled hair teasing out a kaleidoscope of red highlights
the muddy booted covered feet carried my dirty denim wrapped carcass through the termite riddled door into his wool upholstered army cot where he kept 3 golf clubs
we kissed wildly like two beasts on the savannah interlocked in that battle to the death right before they cut to the Mutual of Omaha commercial
love i wondered as he pawed at me what was it while his teeth searched for my young girl bits
it wasn’t like the movies nor was there flirtation or sexy anticipation like in Bei Mir Bistu Shein
then he stopped my eyes still closed and my tongue lapping in the dark
i need a cigarette he whispered can i bum one i rasped
what is love do you think i dealt out my rhetorical grunts
an almost neon silhouette of his broad shoulders shrugged against the poker faced moon
spread the WLS
day at the beach for a city punk
thoughts splintered some sharp others dull and short reports wobble out from flat digital boxes hung from careless walls breath tight or not there at all walking distance from the back to the ground floor books and writing on the walls in the tunnels by the bay ocean blue line thin horizon children grow up and grow into a certain kind of thought me i haven’t grown yet so i color in the sand with tiny sea shells found around my ankles as the tide retreats from me
words less spoken 