Punks

P U N K S cigarettes dangling from thier lips parked directly opposite of the permanent sneer that sits locked in sardonicus style on their pimpled face 14 to twenty something, always claiming to be wise beyond thier years when wise ass is the highest degree they've ever achieved spouting anti-God, Anti-Patriotic Anti-government, anti-school anti-old.. anti-everything rhetoric a bad mouthed midget anti-christ each one they crucify the world unless it fits into their narrow minded vacant skulls pretending to be poets artist's talented musicians spouting babble you hear the endless hammer of their speakers pounding bass dragging young punk girls to womanhood demanding more but never giving satisfaction in return while pantomiming thier disinterest and scandalizing love and weekly they traverse the roads as they seek out and destroy vandalizing mailboxes just for some thrills or kicks tossing their discarded emptied brew bottles on lawns I hope some of them meet up with the punkbuster I've made two solid steel poles five foot high cemented in my yard directly in the front of my mailbox and painted black one on each side they firmly guard from any punks attack I'm sure some night at I:00 a.m. I'll hear the awesome crack of an oak Louisville slugger and one arm that is flung back at forty miles an hour to hang useless numb and slack no jury will convict me when thier whiney parents sue for their poor child getting hurt while smashing property I own punks don't ever amount to much in life you see them often Incarcerated in the finest pens when they grow old or propped up on a curb holding a bottle in one hand or pissing in an alleyway still out there vandalizing walls just like they did when they were young now using different sprays most of them wind up shattered like the mailboxes they wrecked they die in droves through high speed chases in a roadside ditch but some of them escape the plague of always being punks they wind up married in the burbs but when their kids are teens they end up posting bail to get thier children home for dinner then soon  they start to see a punk reflected in their kids just like they used to be return to sender Life's revenge to all punks who go barreling through other people's dreams and late at night you often hear some ex-punk Parent's screams _________________________________Artis Written March 20th, 2002 © on Mar 20 2002 04:13 AM PST   17 • 0 • 1