From Fuck a hippy But Be A Punk

O SHITTY GUITAR

o shitty guitar
we walk down the bowery
down the street
flashing time ginsberg orlovsky sitting stoops
holding hands (on the subway) how dare they
beautiful in the heat

daring daring young old men
blondie's crying
chickens dead, or almost dieing
it all comes crystalclear w/ lou reed (early on)
checking out ramones

best band in the world he knows
o shitty guitar smash through allen corso burroughs
berrigan
2nd ave stroll

anarchy
cigarette and beard

 

SO SAD I CAN HARDLY LIFT MY HEAD UP

smoking ghost
pull my trendy tweed cross canal
position me forever against the street pole
west broadway and north moore
the gang smokes and hangs
hot steamd august
cool leaf november
dead beat memory
who can save me
debbie harrys bed
rapacious love maker
hot sex comix
salacious city love
cold sex loneliness
i can't even begin to think

'75 patti smith wore a black motorcycle jacket

blackhair and eyes wet alive looking over her rockgirl shoulder
happy smiling skin white as a cloud
skinnee young black and white
rock n roll magazine
americas only rock n roll magazine
heavy shit/street scene/street rock
new york city velvet underground stooges dolls new and deadly

patti smith is new news

poetry record reviews

lowercase subterranean way downtown
boarded up streets bowery
no disco
typewrite words black and white

jacket hair and eyes

poems + rock n roll
punk poems
punk poemist

 

 

 

78

i could never sleep
sweltering hell of 13th street
i may be the only white kid on the block
can hardly pay $108 a month
lydia lunch lives down the street
i never see her
once in front of the laundromat
ring in her nose frightning and beautiful
we were only 20 years old but she had already
killed many many people

 

From The Ecstatic Peace Poetry
Journal #1

Valentine Poem by Lee Ranaldo

you were pushing up
the air. you raced
west. never lookin back to
see what you'd left
hidden like diamonds
under the wing of the world
city gardens are rocky reminders
winter whispers:
thighs/lips/hair/knees
a diamond grows 10 million
years of sad mist
and emptiness
heavn' bound i guess

Chicago, illinois by Mike Watt

last night
I
made a shape w/ my mouth
and what dropped out?
a name of one
born
in the town of this stage
before the burdon of age
anyways-
the cipher evoked
a power stroke
and kept keel
under instead of
outer so
I
could work on the deck
w/ crazy semaphore on
my little machine
has me
lit
lighthouse lit
foghorn fit
and the look
on those kids'
faces
making sentences
from my one word
how could they fathom
i had dreamt a whole tome
from those
nine
special
letters?

La grande, oregon

fingers
in a glove
floating on the snow
fallen
from and
found in
skies above
where eyes must throw
thier basket holes
up and
catch them
flakes
of cakes
on picnic table plates
crunched
by the bunch
of a word hand form
lost
thier tiny unseen beauty
reduced simple
multiple
dimples
from where I'd be
minus me
yes,
thats soft
motion
broke and
woke in
side
a winter's love
thawed
frozen

Tanka for the 21st century by Byron Coley

for my new movie
i'm really into casting
actress courtney love
in the role of "bobby"
bush's swollen red asshole

mayor rudy gee
found a cold turd on 10th street
shaped just like his
own prostate, so he jammed
the rascal straight up his diz

george w. bush
has a thimble in his dick
where his dad, big george
sits eating hot pudding cups
& jacking off in a hat

giving john ashcroft
an abortion w/ a fork
would qualify him
for just about any job
this country could offer him

i had a long dream
about that bitchen bill gates
where he was tied down
nude & covered with scabs
tongued moist by ole courtny

Untitled by Kim Gordon

i turn around
smile to see
its just an image of a girl
its just an image of a girl
it aint me
it aint me
it aint me
just an image of a girl
image of a girl
image of a girl
image of a girl
image of a girl
and she aint me
image of a girl
and she aint free
image of a girl
and she aint me
image of a girl
aint she free
aint she free
aint she free
aint she free
to be an image of a girl

Cock poet by Thurston Moore

(*
when will she look out her window
and know
that ive decided
on trully nothing)]

*
new york poets write about cock
ginsberg's beard
baby thumb (suck)
cock, marijauna

Indian summer=snarf
image: cock
off off broadway
giorno
blow'n bones

cock& the new
york

Poet

cock
new york poets love
cocks

 

From The ecstatic Peace Poetry
Journal #2

Words mean nothing by Kira

words mean nothing
easily rolled togetherwords
limp on a page
spoken in many tones
words as a reminder
an idea lost in translation
words carry baggage
like people and places
words misunderstood
lead firther and further
words out of anger
draw later regrets
words overwhelming
or believing unjustly
words passed on
through repitition
words drawing pictures
how fuzzy the lines
words bringing passion
with actions cooling
words as wisdom
never truly reconcile
words with echoes
drive home despair
words heard the first time
may confuse or surprise|
words dripping envy
when powers at stake
words hiding meaning
so good for the game
words as truth
may be the last spoken

Why I became a musician by Wally Shoup

High in the Colorado mountains (ca 1972) & high on LSD
I witnessed my word worl collapse as I struggled to directly percieve
the realitie which forced itself on my being

Using all I had -my words- I vainely tried to put an inner meaning on the
overwhelmingness which surrounded me.

The vastness, the unimaginable multitude of details could not, would not, be
encapsulated in the words which filled my head.

How could I ecscape the limitations of words?
How could I directly feel what I was experiencing without wondering - is
this real?
how can I describe this sensation if I can't describe it to myself

Suddenly I heard my nervous system sing, I heard the sound of my body
working independently on my WORD GENERATING brain & I knew

I KNEW

I HAD to get those sounds,
to explore those resonances
which are mine, within me, which uniquely
make me, ME.

Cheetah Eating by Lisa Carver

I crouch down at Cheetah's side as she dines.
She is a little disconcerted to find my human face so close to her cat face, then she
discovers the chunks of beef in her dish.
She picks them out with tongue, lip and fang.
This tiny carnivore could fit inside the mouth of the cow now disintegrating in the
acids of her stomach.
I touch her body, so beautiful the bird bones, the cat muscles, the snake jaw.
Designs like a black lace shawl melted into
her grey fur.
The windows light is blue.
A new year's snow is falling: her paw will test it's molecular structure.

Who was the loudest by Thurston Moore

well fucking whitehouse at the muddclub for sure-I can
still hear it and
it was in 1984 -- even louder were fucking the dictators
who played an
inanely loud set at the blitz benefit in 1978 at cbgb, jeezus
that was
fucked- and fucking neubauten at the ritz in 1989 or
some shit -- fucking
painful

Ripped by Thurston Moore

money spills stupidly
when searching for fuzz

and I'll tell ya

one lame acid lead $

does not "fuzzed-drenched"

make

From The Ecstatic Peace Poetry
Journal #3

You by Thurston Moore

compass snakes blood sweet skin topeach love lake cumkiss to
peach layed bitch skin kiss'd slave shiprolling sweet blond
waterr'd tongue juiced play sweet blood blond action girl action
ready tongue layed slow on tum'd cumming sweet bitch beach
blond bliss blood blown angel slaved stove girl woman sweet
cry'd tears lust'd fingers communicate holy ass witch breast full of
sweet creamed blood tongue in kiss to holy oil'd and sweet hair
blessed bliss'd reality forever yours love and more please pleasure
pisses hot cold night hot noon anytime you want

 

Cunnilingus by Richard Hell

I believe I'm very good at eating pussy. I love doing it, a lot for the
way it makes the girl happy, which turns me on.And then doing it
until she's coming gives you pretty much a free rein when you
push your hardon in. But my god, a pussy in your face!

Writing about sex can be very strange. Foe instance, am I
having sex with you now? In a manner of speaking...Yes, definatly
I think. I want you to like it. I just want to make you feel good.

 

Petals Stopped and Soaking by Mike Watt

flowers
ours
a wonder that's
hours
long and
soft and
thick
fleshy petal butter pats
mouth melted
cool to warm to
syrup
ruby cherib
cheeked
satin sheeted
folds
and creases
reached
and felt
but not w/ eyes
rather
w/ sighs
hands on thighs
a gardener's prize-
a nectar nurtured cistern

Snatch Gobble w/ Abbie by Byron Coley

theres a great line somewhere
(I think it's in one of
Abbie Hoffman's books)
where
in order to
negate any objection
to oral sex
offered by
a woman
in self-conscious menses
the potential snatch gobbler
( be it guy
or be it gal)
is supposed to say
"i like my meat rare"

that line
always slayed me
although
the few times
i actually tried
to use it my self
i mumbled
so there's no telling
how it actually
went over

My Greatful Mouth by Brian Coley

i dunno how many
fluid ounces
of cunt juice
i've swallowed
over the years
but even
if it;s only
a relitive thimblefull
in comparison
to the oceans
that malanga's quaffed
i would still
like to thank
each & everyone
of those gals
who opened
their friendly legs
their personable legs
their thoroyghly charming legs
to my very greatful mouth

Dancing Flurry Kachina Jury by Mike Watt

thumps
from the shelf's top
tiny
padded
thumps
jumps first
my nerves' verse
and leaps
from my mouth out-
who hears them
and has the nerve
to
find the rhythm to put steps to
- tiny men
heads tucked in
every moment a halloween
and d-d-dance
in the head trance, chants
chants
how many have they heard from you, watt
how many rants?
busy with their steps
and in
their
dreams:
not trapped
in the
museum
but
meant to d-d-dance
dance
on a fertile farm
soft, warm
on their moccasined
undernieth
beneath
them
showin' him show
him
a golden pear
and his eyes fixed
fuzzy vision but
captivated
kachina wittnesses
hypnotists
lateral intimists
tungwup ta-amu:

The whipper's uncle
guard dancer
for
the
bean dancer
both feet
planted
but then those
standing on half their toes-
other foot up
knee bent
estatic sent
in my real life to the world costume head
dances
of
mudheads
sun face
and chasing star
structure?
yeah- some sure
pi
vo
ting
on the
moment
- hold it
do they pine
for signs
or are they
their own
wholeness?

From Alabama Wild Man

Neighbor

the fellowship of the buried lives
walks by the window of the
laundromat on 13th + A
i'm hanging out with old puerto
riccan woman sitting on the
bench staring at the spinning
wash like staring at tv
eating a candy bar, drinking coffee, smoking cigs
a tall freak fantastic is pulling out frayed black frill
what can/ did/do/i do - 19,new in town
so...
i don't do nothing
from the dryer

please,
don't ever leaf me

The smell of rain

she doesn't want to hurt yr feelings
just wants to appease her own
i'm psyched
cold stoning
stoked on nights of boning
party itch
sick and rich
(translucent witches)
puny runt/puni-runt
"can you teach me how to fly?"
she just stares
tv's got us on
never tells me nothing
and nothingz going on
"what's on the tube?'
she just stares
can't seem to figure it out
can't seem to figure it out
what she's all about
too many songs about god
change yr name
"who you calling'man' man?"
i'm happy to be a tv repairman
she goes out w/easy rider
+ he knows there's a spider inside
/
her

Superchrist

turn out a bird a bird for you is yellow rice- what kind of jerk is that
comes out superchrist - rip it in to shapes and flick it to the babes a sacrifice
- work it like a dog cuz snoopy is a dog from paradise-bring out the world
of color twirlin' color wheel- freak out the frady cats like burnin' man o'
steel- purplein the junction nowpeople got something civilized- whip-pin'
in the wind is superman's friend cactus eyes

take off yr top and drop a chunk o' honkey tonk - run out the door and score
a hunk o' honky junk - kick out the jacks i'll buy the snax and get a life -
tune on yr brain sell out yr frame super - christ

Bordoms

are some bored domes
we are pisshole surferz

boredoms
are mod sods
this is p-we

boredomes
are sore modes
she is sick teen bored dumps
*musik junk funk braxton bailey stunk klunk - hear me scramble
egg in cowboy
Face

I forget the planet when the boredoms race thru sunlit E-clipse---

boredoms are
no-self WORLD sex-free (lanterns) ON
!??!bBOoBOBOOBOBOBBBO oo o o o ooooooooooOiOOOio
tronix to the phew-ture...__
there is no stop sign when intuition is creative JUICE
HARP::::godbless:::
smoder(obo)redoms19998

Solmania

is a speeding motorcycle
with junk guitar
Strapped on like a flaring dirty
Chrome muffler- his helmet is hair and plastic - his hands are a fine
blend
of olive and leather - he is a man/boy rather ripped.-
_______is noise meditation for kansai girls with wings flying through
thr
underground in search of motorcycle sound.I looped in thought.
shifting within
a steady axis we telepath with god and sun.
play w/
solmania

1985

up
on the sun meat
puppets psycho
candy the jesus
& mairychain vu
velvet underground the nations saving grace
the f
all the 1/2 mensch
einsturzende neubauten worldbroken saccharine
trust the process of weeding out black
flag 3 way
tie for last minutemen loose
nut black
flag snake
boy kill
dozer plays for lovers beef
eater racer
x big black cream
corn from the socket of davis butt
hole surfers the first born
is dead nick cave & the bad seeds chronic dis
order

1995

sonic youth is playing
a tiny club in new orleans
with unwound and polvo and
the place is a pressure cooker ready to blow. a girl in
the audience scales the club wall
and stands
precariously
on a lighting rig
beam. we have to
stop playing and try
to coax her down. Kim asks her why she's up there.
she explains she can't see andfor $30
she wants to see. we tell her
that tickets
are only $15 and she confesses
she had to buy one
for her boyfriend. kim sez,
"that was yr first mistake."

A brief excert from.......
In the mind of the borgious reader ( the full story can be read in his book...)

The TV was near the bed.The morning shows, to me, are a sublime
turn-on- a vital part of the erotic effervescence of the chilly winter day.

And so then.......

We jumped in bed and rolled around a bit kissing and petting.I
pinned her shoulders down and straddled her waist kissing her face.Her
hair was blond with really dark roots.I pulled off the top of her Burger
king outfit and started kissing her VERY DELICIOUS , VERY SEXY
Body. I pulled off her skirt and her underwear and saw she had beautiful
black, pubic hair. I had sworn a long time ago not to obsesson any one
body part and new it was always much more rewarding to feel and sense
the woman as a whole. I also remembered reading something by a
woman about how to totally approach giving head and the one thing was
to put in your mind that the girl is a queen and you are servicing and you lick
them as your invitedinto sacred territory. It's also much greater for the
man if he succeeds in this.Well that's certainly the head I got into on that
morning.

From The Ecstatic Peace Poetry
Journal #4

Lling ston by Thurston Moore

Dead Diary Entry #0 by Thurston Moore

Poem for Chassler by Thurston Moore

Untitled by Chan Marshall

Fuck Awareness week by Richard Meltzer