Guest Post by Rob Banks the Pope of Punk
Urban Life
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
not mainstream
the sun is shy dark weepy sad the red stars on the hipsters Mao bags are dull it is a bazaar of thought living on the tops of the foam of your demon seas rebel rider non Jane Fondaer grown girl he dirty boy military card heir LA west of Hollywood Battleship Potemkin plays let’s go drop bomb on my tongue baby Jimmy Hendrix’s way irony one hundred ways to think that we can go to Sizzler after this and dude your mom has a new car but if i were on that ship ida’ve done the same damn thing he sings to me God Save the Queen and we go fuck behind the dumpster but we can’t seem to fit it in and we go back to talking about politics
spread the WLS
climate change
at the bench i think i’m sitting watching absent mindedly soaking in the flair and magic of the scene jesters and contortionists control the court in front of me cages of allegory truths and fantasies but lest we forget the straight up lies of the institutional do gooders is this it voice of reason hushed up forever when we beg with Coke and Starbucks paper cups where do the coins truly go when we need help and guidance in completely being our scared self why must we worship your flesh and bone pastor and why is it that only your bumper sticker matters i can think too and feel and love i understand that new deals of any color my Mother will not save unless we’re willing to streamline and electrify our own internal ways honoring self and brother truly from the heart giving to Her salvation and letting go the appropriation of who’s got the only righteous thoughts
spread the WLS
cicatrix
it’s best if we sigh now
oh life for all of my days
you still haunt me
you just a state of neurological being
but you life you have gotten in my blood
no other place is better
i was conceived old
my thoughts Gemini to Don Quixote
and in times of desperation
i’ve gone blindly into battle too
just a shit head little cunt
from the city of LA
but fuck, fuck i say
you and i sister tough old bitch
we still stand
on the corners and the roofs
we too sit in the high life cafes
and the rat infested flop house bars
to tell old drunk sailors but not of Navy type
of how we got our scars
rape intoxication politics aggravation
education isolation insanity warm sun shine
loneliness love devotion twisted words
beatings in the dark making love on the sand
injecting poisons til the boils could hold no more
rode in the ambulances
mourning flat-lined blue lipped boys
ah life i am yours and no one else’s
when sitting by the ponds the koi fish
bubble up asking for my orange cheese crackers
every so often i can shed a few tears
when the coroner loads one of us into their van
never knowing who they were
but knowing that they’ll go to heaven
but my favorite scar by my cupids bow
when my face got smashed on the garage asphalt floor
so many fears and rage at the same time
and the pictures of my mother
lost on my travels with no paradigms
the scars in my heart
i keep those inside
some demons are best left
to the annals of the mind
now my friend lover spouse and enemy
we’ve walked down the path
that’s led us close to the horizon
of twilight and as much as i want to lay down to rest
and ponder your meaning and flick ashes on the floor
i realize that i’ve been just another story
at times screaming off my head
another woman scarred
by the significance
of nothing in your eyes
