Latest Poetry

Driving down the highway

West 80 towards San Francisco

& I'm going to Berkeley

to see a 70's punk band, the Avengers

& how surreal is this?

for a Boston boy

who might've done this 30 years ago

if he wasn't 3000 miles away

But tonight

I sail in the darkness

& the flickering lights

of the houses and restaurants

along the highway

reflecting

lives that have mostly lived here

for decades

& I'm coasting through

on one of my first visits

on unknown stretches of road

like I don't belong, I'm intruding

like it's some kind of dream somewhere

I feel I'm not supposed to be here

but felt that many times back home

it's just a strange experience

but a good one

& I just smile

at this crazed feeling of freedom

as I glide into the night

& the unknown

Poetry

She's got a little backpack

and a frame that's not quite a woman, maybe 15

he's got black hair and died blond locks, ( same age as her)

hanging straight in his eyes

& a perpetual grin

trying to signify, irony and awareness

but it really conceals

akwardnesss and shyness, I sense

She dances and jumps up and down

as the sound system plays techno/punk music

he grins and nods, and then it's the Buzzcocks

She jumps some more

he's still grinning and nodding

She has Doc Marten like shoes and dark hair dyed a reddish tint

& eyes that are beautiful

as only a womans or girls eyes can be

They're nerds and outcasts

trying to turn their unpopularity

into a private crusade

He doesn't say anything

& she jumps a little more

& they'd never believe

How perfect I see them

or how perfect

they are now

or that they'll ever be

Poetry

I Went Tonight


I went tonight

To see young punk bands

and came through the late, slushy March snow

To see the young grafiti/hip-hop artists

creating a mural across the street at the local YMCA

& my old friend

Yeah, the same age as me

old, as I've known him awhile

old, as we're both middle-aged

he's feeling a bit bored with life and it all

& I'm thinking

The vitality of the young ones are keeping me feeling young

& I'm thinking

I'd rather hang with these

than retire with my own

into their caves

into their adult responsibilities

I never eally believed it before tonight

age was just a number

a state of mind

Now, I've learned something

Poetry

Fitting In

Fitting into the boxes

That society asks you to check off

Don't realize that these boxes were created

By those who desired and therefore made new ones, 'cause none existed

Now ripped off, acclaimed & museumed

While the spirit of youth boils over & causes a mess

on the neat, suburban, linen cloth, dinnerware ideals of the dull

Youth, truth, love

it will always disturb

cause problems, and you'll always co-op, corrupt it

But the truth and beauty

will shine

beyond your vacant money dreams

your empires and enterprises

your corrupt, diseased, desires will not live on

But the truth, the lust, the passion, the fun

will piss on your accomplishments

and show how vapid and meaningless

they really are

Like they really had to

Yeah, purchase your cheap, overpriced luxury

It's what you deserve, by all means

You deserve the best

Poetry

Poem for the Holidays

Reject from a toy factory

My friend Andy liked to say

And as Christmas rounds the corner

Presents!

And I think of the underground rock scene

How I think of them as

The Island of Misfit Toys

Another Xmas reference

Rejects, misfits

Square pegs in round holes

Seems to be what we seem to be

Finding a common passion

A freedom from judgment and compromise bind us together

We’re rejects

Unwanted, unneeded

Rejected, passed on

But it’s from a toy factory

That’s what life is-so should we really care?

We’re privileged to have the guts

To attempt our own way

And I find myself blessed

To be amongst

The most retched, disgraced, scarred

Beautiful souls

I’ve known