poems, Nothing new, oh how she love that Huff!

punk girl in the ghetto

This is for the punk rock grrl in the ghetto
Surrounded. Engulfed. But Separated
She Represents an Unseen generation
To the millions with Micros
A vision of Lonliness at the Bus stop
The Screaming Conversations Girdle Her Dazed Mind
$2.60
Blank. Listening to a cd she's never spoke alloud about
Blah. Reading a book that will never be brought up in Passing
Engrossed. Immersed. But Estranged
Hallways Soaked In Cucumber Mellon
Air Force Ones & Axe.
Old airwalks drag through a clean smell of soap
Dripping Distain & wonderstruck to relate
3:00
Uncherised as habbit overcomes
Back through crime scenes & blacktop streets
Submerged. Overflowing. But Seared
Opening The door lets out a Blast of Silence
A Shock Of Darkness & The Smell of Soup
NBC 10 news is a soundtrack
Friends burn, Guys rape, Kids Swim
187
The Suns heat is Fading with a Breeze
She Takes Solice in Thursday Night Television Programs.
Surrounded. Engulfed. But Separated

surived The Night
God I hate the Birds,
As If the Searing Red of the alarm Clock wasn't enough
Small Birds from blocks away
Telling me Im Up Agian Too Late,
Aint no turning back now
to sleep now would mearly Remind me Of the feeling
Remind me Of the Comfort of Satin On my elbows
Or the Wide Angles of my ceiling above i hVgah gah tssss
NO! Got to keep awake
There is much in store, Much Planned for Me
People want to see my face, say my name into the street
but the past 43 Hours have been historical
Museums of Bouncing souls Shirts




2 hours before work Starts,
I'll Just call Out (havent paid the Phone Bill)
The payphone is just on the corner
CHANGE, CHAnge, CHange, Change, change
nothing.
I guess this job isnt doing much for my Cashflow anyway


They find comfort in the Unocupyed rooftops of our street
somtimes Screaming

ChrissyTeen Put the show On

Museums of Bouncing souls Shirts & Tattoos
Blood is spilled On The "dance" Floor
Its another Punk A.I.D.S Benifit shows
it would bring up concern In any arena
It would Cut The Power Of The P.A.
It would cause the guitar Screech To a hault
it would leave the cymbols Ring out loudly
it would leave the bassplayer clueless
but here at the Killtime, We Still Sing
We Still "dance" on the bloody "dance" floor