I’ve always wanted to be Punk
I’ve always wanted to be Punk
I’d shave my head into a tall green mohawk
Held tight together in spikes by glue
Not that white Elmer’s but the blue stuff
That gets harder than stone
I’d light up my last cigarette
After snuffing the previous on
The Surgeon General’s warning emblazoned
Upon the crumpled corpse of the pack I’d just destroyed
I’d take a swig from the bottle of Jack
I’d pilfered from Thom down the street
Because he spelled his name with an H
To accent his cool sideburns
I’d wear striped golfer’s pants
And two different kinds of combat boots
Spray-painted black despite the fact
That the left one came in black anyways
I’d wear a metal studded trenchcoat
Over a tattered T-shirt I found on the ground last week
It says, “It’s Hard To Be Humble When You’re Scottish”
But my great-grandfather was Welsh and his Irish.
Whoever makes safety pins would owe me some gratitude
They’d hold up my pants
Accessorize my ear
And, apparently, affix my eyebrow to my face
I’d flick off roadsigns and puke on walls
Angry about the goth girl whom I loved
And met at the party last night
She wore checkered Chucks and liked Weezer
But only the first album because the last one sucked
I’ve always wanted to be Punk
But really I’m Mark Twain
After he’s had a really bad day
After he scratched on the nine-ball,
Put out the stub of his last cigar,
Laid down in bed,
And wishes he was still Sam.
_______
Music Party
Rock and Pop dance in the middle
Secretly thinking they’re better than the other
Metal and Hip Hop sneer at each other
I’m pretty sure there’s going to be a fight
Reggae philosophizes with Ska
Who cracks jokes and tells him to relax for some reason
Blues tells country that his girl just left him
Country tells him the same thing but adds something about his dog and truck
Emo cries in the corner
Grunge lights a cigarette and tells him to shut up, he doesn’t care
Classical tries to organize the whole thing
Nobody really listens
Punk drinks himself into a stupor,
Kicks down the door and goes outside
Yelling, “Fuck You!” to anybody who’ll listen.
I secretly want to be Punk.
