Friday, September 19, 2008
One more anti-hero worshipfrom the depthsof some enigmatic fool
that left the suburbsfor the open fieldsof post modern flight from hell.
No, not from the quakesor the rumblings of racism,
that stench we all tendto want to get rid of,
but the fact that therewere just too many things wrong.
So off I went to the lastjourney of my youth,
through the pubs and alleysof Los Angeles that servedmany nights of reckless talk
and the establishment be damned.There goes Happy House,
Screamand all those open up at 10 pmparty houses,
where you paid 5 bucksto drink yourself to life,
and walk out Saturday morning at 6 amlike the kind demons we were.
And dance the pain that we hadkept for the weekand wonder what 30 would be like
and if the Virgin Pruneswere right about"If I die I die".
But then, that love in your soulthe one that makes you write
and pour out those false indignities that caress your heart
and mindfor after all we've been throughstars have their moments and then they die.