Restriction Signs Are For Losers - 01/21/12

Restriction signs are for losers.
Not the
“You're not cool enough for us”
losers, not the
“you're a wimpy kid”
losers, not the
“Get a pair, baby”
losers.
But the nerds and the punks,
but the timid and the meek.
No, restriction signs are for the losers.
Quiet, awkward stairwells
where no one can hear you sigh,
high off the ecstasy of Pablo Neruda poetry
or depressed off the stress of tournaments.
Restriction signs are for losers
to have a chance to be
the most popular boy in the room,
to talk to the prettiest girl around.
Restriction signs are for losers
who fantasize about being found there
by that perfect young man,
and smiled at and held and
then some other loser will come by
and everything will be awkward.
But it's an unrealistic situation anyways,
because he's not a loser,
so why would he need to violate
the restriction sign?
That is why
restriction signs are for losers,
little victories,
small accomplishments,
miniscule rebellions,
leaping into history's footsteps
and leading your army,
a moment of freedom, perfection, control
before slipping back into your shyness.
One second of voice,
of power,
of corruption.
For a lifetime of confinement?
Restriction signs are for losers.

End Of An Era - 07/24/11

Sitting there in King’s Cross station
Punk rock music always playing
All your heroes are dead and gone
But the radio still plays their songs
Is this the fate that I will find
When I reach the other side?
Are you somewhere looking in
Wondering when the revolution will begin?
To fight our own Dark Lord?
Perhaps we’ll win
Perhaps we’ll all just fade away
Like we never mattered anyway
Perhaps there’ll be nothing to say
No memorable quote on our grave
But those who were really listening
Know the grave is only the beginning

Unplug - 07-14-11

So turn off the LEDs
Smash in the computer screen
Pull these USBs from my veins
Tune out the suped up cars
Lock up all the movie stars
Cut the power line to my brain

Well, Ke$ha, you’ve got a pretty voice
So I wonder if you have any choice
Or if it’s the producers who let the computer sing
Beyoncé, you were the queen of pop
But three years without an album and it all stops?
Even the best of our singers turn out to be just a fling

All the punk rock’s
Fallen to cold pop
Under the terminal’s conquest
Between blind neutrality
And budding individuality?
End’s up being no contest

So turn off the LEDs
Smash in the computer screen
Pull these USBs from my veins
Tune out the suped up cars
Lock up all the movie stars
Cut the power line to my brain

Well I’d like to talk
To whoever’s at the top
Of the record companies deciding
Where the sellouts go
When appeal runs low
Thinking they’ll turn thunder back into lightning

I think there’s a ditch somewhere
Filled with forgotten artists and despair
That’s where Rebecca Black will stay
When she’s forgotten on Saturday
That’s where every modern singer will go
When their appeal finally runs low
That’s where current culture dies
With our music lost in an blinking of an eye
That’s what we’re all headed to
Fashion and cinema, art and science too
The screen has slowed our cognitive function
The video games make our ADD rambunctious

Yet the shooting stars
Are going far
On a beautiful summer evening
But good luck
Seeing them through the ceiling

So turn off the LEDs
Smash in the computer screen
Pull these USBs from my veins
Tune out the suped up cars
Lock up all the movie stars
Cut the power line to my brain

Why Did You Do It? - 04/04/11

Although I’ve been told that
just because you can
doesn’t mean you should,
I did it because I could.
From choking and rough,
ripping my throat like sandpaper
to a vacuum of openness,
space stretching out
beyond my lungs’ reach.
Cloudless denim skin
sprinkled with lemon cream,
little star shaped sour dollops.
Reflected in that shimmering sky
beautiful, benevolent, brave, bold,
stood on tall legs,
with a head held up.
I did it to meet her.
She promised with glitter dipped words
that there was freedom,
that the world was open,
that there was air.
I would sneak out again
to find her perfect reflection,
if only I could.
I did it because I knew
I could never again.
I did it to breathe.

Let Me Take a Note from Tunisia - 03-01-11

Ladies and Gentlemen,
adults with baby brains,
kickin’ back to the glare
and the snare
of FOX News,
listening to whatever
and whoever
is on the radio,
turning the dial low,
making your brain slow

Let me remind you Americans
what the people of Tunisia
recently discovered,
let me inform you
what the people of Egypt
have uncovered.
Come and hear the wisdom
of Yemen, Bahrain, and Jordan.
Listen to the secrets
of Greece, Algeria and Sudan.

We are oppresses
by the clothes in which we’ve dressed,
by the revolutions we’ve missed,
by the chemical lips we’ve kissed,
by the star lit crack addicts we’re caresses,
by the companies we’ve supported,
their causes we’ve donated to,
by the way we’ve paraded to
their mass sales,
throwing workers wages back at you.
The consumed consumer.
The used user.
The obsolete treat
to freedom’s enemy,
the television.
By everything you see,
all the Barbie dolls you try to be,
every advertisement you believe.

That moment when you stop perceiving
and start following.
The moment when you stop following
and sit down.
When we sign our votes to companies,
and disregard epiphanies,
and throw poets away
to the modern day Gulags
of writing crap pop songs
that someone else will sing.
When what Lady Gaga
wore to the Grammy’s
is more important than the riots in the streets.

And here’s the ultimate plot twist,
the deadly kiss,
the last lisped words
of hope:
they look to us.
People in other nations,
praying for freedom,
marching for liberty,
bleeding for basic, human, rights
look to us.
We symbolize freedom,
we symbolize progress,
we symbolize equality.
We have women senators,
but I still wouldn’t earn as much as a man
for the same job.
We have a melting pot of culture,
but Portland only has nine Synagogues
among endless churches.
We have the first black president,
and we beat gay men to death.

You know,
I won’t debate over the second amendment,
because we were given it
for a reason:
so that when the government
- our government -
commits treason
we can correct them
and protect
what we are currently
neglecting to respect.

Freedom.
It’s more than a constitution,
it’s a state of mind.
and the reason not every dictatorship is revolting
is because some have bigger things on their minds,
like their next meal
and clean water
and their children’s lives.

And we?
We have the Oscar’s.

Roaring 20s - 03-01-11

Should’ve been born in the 1920s.
Shouldn’t been a rebel girl
with my rain boots unlaced,
flapping around like jazz notes
blowing away all the German spiders
and sticking to billboards like price tags.
Should’ve bobbed my hair short as my skirt.
Should’ve given Queen Victoria the finger
and caresses Langston’s black neck
the way his words wooed my soul.
Should’ve sang with Margret Sanger
about ending the pain in my ovaries
and spreading my legs without worry.
Should’ve run around with DuBois
and lynched the freaks in the sheets,
not the knights in Harlem.
Should’ve run to the lights,
to the glamour and clamor,
to the growing cities like healthy children,
rocketing to the sky with hopes.
Should’ve laughed in the flowers
and gazed at the clouds with Georgia O’Keefe.
Should’ve head butted the traditionalist for firing Scopes.
Should’ve stayed out late with the Jewish.
Should’ve danced with the Polish.
Should’ve drank bootlegged beers with an Irish fellow,
out in the woods with painted lips
that sneered at mothers and puckered at men.
Should’ve seen the world for the first time
in a black and white news reel
with maritime music.
Should’ve cheered for Babe and laughed at Chaplin.
Should’ve lived and loved.
Should’ve drowned in culture and possibilities.



Historical context:
In my history class, we are currently learning about the Roaring Twenties.  This was a time of cultural revolution.  The traditional Protestant ways of the United States were being challenged by Pluralism - being of more than one belief.  This was the time of Woman’s Suffrage and the sexual revolution, where flappers wore short skirts, drank beer, and defied their mothers.  The flapper was named after the fashion of wearing rain boots without lacing them up so they made a flapping sound.  This was also the first instance of birth control, promoted by Margret Sanger.
This was the time of the Harlem Renaissance, an explosion of African American culture in New York, of jazz, poetry, and art.  Langston Hughes was one of the foremost poets of that time, and if you’ve never heard of him, please look up “Mother to Son” because it is amazing.  African America rights movement took off, With W.E.D. DuBois advocating for blacks to not just accept what they could from white, oppressive government, but to fight for their rights.
This was the time of mass immigration and the true beginnings of America’s “melting pot” idea, that, until then, had honestly not been followed.  People of all races moved into cities and learned about each other.  Old ideas were replaced with a conglomerate of the new.  Catholics in the USA formed a tradition of football watching.  A person could be of two worlds, that of their decent, be it Polish, Jewish, or Irish, and also be an American.
This was the time of learning about the world.  Mass use of radio and the first movies with sound brought news from all over the world to American citizens, letting them expand their view.  It was the time of the skyscraper, of the big city, of innovation.
I have been greatly inspired by this era.  Yes, I know it wasn’t perfect, but it was pretty freaking awesome, you have to admit.

A Typical Kid vs. Atypical Kid - 08/25/10

Bring it on
Bring it out
Why don't you kids
Whip 'em out
You gotta learn
To grow and glow
And have some fun
Before you blow
Mother's son
Fuck the sun
Screw the snow
And let's go
Let go

CHORUS:
Cross your heart
Hope to fly
Open your brain
Close your eyes
Back to start
Reach up high
Accept the insane
Touch the sky
END

Fireworks
And TNT
Kid, whatdya mean
Thinkin' they're
Different things
Adjacent lessons
Between
Therapy sessions
Have screwed your
comprehension
So you're young
and naive
It's better to believe
Take it from me
There are many things
You don't want
To see

CHORUS

A typical kid
Atypical kid
Bring your best head
Cuz this is it
It's lose or win
The ultimate
Sink or swim
It's about to begin
Cultivate
The brain seeds
You need
Open it
To all the weeds
Maybe you'll find one
That beats everything

CHORUS

Bring It - 08/21/10

I'm completely sick with ignoring the death toll
and always letting the bad guys win
I believe in a higher power than the human soul
and we call them dolphins

I'm going to blow
this whole world
away from where it is
if I die
I'll leave this place
better than it was
don't believe me?
don't follow me
it's not darkness
that'll swallow me
but you
when I'm though

I've sat by
through all the years
of all our fears

I'm another year older
and another brain cell bolder
and I'm ready
to take control
of my life

sorry
to those I leave behind
to those I've made cry
but I won't let you die

I'm going to blow
this whole world
away from where it is
if I die
I'll leave this place
better than it was
don't believe me?
don't follow me
it's not darkness
that'll swallow me
but you
when I'm though

it's my time
the world is mine
in the flip of a dime
I can decide your fate
but it's not too late
to make the right mistake
and take
this ride
for the final time

Screen Shot - 08/07/10

screen shot
punk rock
heart throb
next job
another round
of jello shots
British invasion
so long gone
the remnants twisted
in every new song
Howard Roark
still fights
a losing battle
for a creativity
incompatible
with modern thinking
independence sinking
in the oil
and the ocean
and the obvious
devotion
to conformity
Roark,
wouldn't you agree?
if you don't
please
tell me
what you see

Red Alert - 08/06/10

The inert gases
took all their classes
to keep in touch
with what's up
with the upside down world
like the good boys and girls
on life threatening drugs
and their parents
egging them on
and dealers
with PhD's
from Harvard,
Yale, and my MIT
all making us think
that we're all sinking
and slipping
and thinking
too much
or not enough
always in the gym
or on the couch, inert
heading for a red alert
cuz emotional twisting
is the new big sport