Education fool

There was this fleeting idea of being hard that came from a few years scattered in this city. new york, new york. hard core and fucking all the rage of concrete jungle gymnastics.

Deep down, though. i was a pansy. and i knew it. so did she. so did the bald man hurling me a hundred feet (it seemed) into the air with my head into the barricade and back again to his bewilderment.

Dust swirling. crazed fists and lucha libre masked men from norhthampton bringing the pain on one some summer day when we all drove down to the melee because punk is and punk does and dumb punks like to be in a place where they are counted.

Or not.

Comradely call to anarchy. strength swelling up to greet the concussion and when the wall of death was called for, fifteen thousand answered and spread their paces far enough to charge themselves in brotherly disregard for their own sweet fucking well being.

Except me.

I was passed the point of seeing stars. struggling to stay awake. in aim of the kids who had, wisely, waited at the other stage. but i wasn't leaving until the set was over and those men the dirt had claimed were carted off to the oxygen tent overflowing with the toiling undead.

I had the pulse of the city left in my bones. a reputation to uphold in the face of a scene that didn't know me and didn't give a shit for the long-haired freak, three deep and waiting for the start.

And when it came the force of men propelled me. i was up. i was over. blood splattered. another nose broke. teeth fell to nails. i stepped them over. i stomped them down. shoulders gave under my carolinas and soon i was so close to home i could smell the cigarette lingering stiff between her breasts.

Seconds later and it just stopped. the swarm ceased and he was up there crying out to be taken back to mommy.

I should've fucking known. the words were there already but she was gone.

Instead there was our nero. smeared soot and sweat staining his meager (by any account) frame.

'Thanks, lou' i said.

He hugged me.

My Life.mp3


Radio once

We have before.

We will again.

Time to man up, son. show that face and make a name. let the bastards turn the mill for once.

You already crashed the gate.

It's just a matter of growing old now. sucking up. laying blame. hard lines culled from the shit-stained missives you tried so hard not to sate.

These aren't the good time winter mews. the beer end tossed back and blue.

We're talking the fucking future. something like progress.

Sand drawn from the dust.

Cowards call.



Wiggle pigs, on

Of course, he kept his swagger. even after all these years of face fucking facts checking out. droning in. coddle company keeping him a draft catching embers as light lucky charms.

Fuck 'em.

He wasn't about to let the mark hold long.

Not when there was still a chance to grab her tattooed hand in his and ride some one horse wonder the hell out of town.

Round the set once and into the sun.



Hopes at the door

Just sweetness, now. softened pale sighs into the embrace i can find anytime. any hour. any night crawled from the joy above the caterwaul of forgetting.

Fucking simple, perfect, pure love long written out in diaries left to the crackling of wooden floors.

Trying to capture a piece of her sleeping whisper.

The way my heart beats.

And she's kissing me.

The only last two dreams come true.

Comet. stars.

The arc.