Layne is cool
Awfully sweet
Yes, a jewel
No more deceit
Even god knows

Radical girl
Under that brain
Divulged a pearl
And curing pain.

I think she's smart
She makes great art.

Can I speak more?
Or am I done?
Oh I feel poor
Layne is fun.

Duh, she's the queen
Under a crown
Dressed so pristine
Envious gown.

i was far too kind,
i was far too blind,
insignificant in your eyes,
and it didn't register at all
in my mind.

you're so pretentious and cold,
you think that you're so deep.
you say that i sold you out,
& that i'm just a brainwashed
sheep.

you're only compassionate
when it's convenient for you,
if anyone knows that, it's me.
just a selfish *****, a low life ****,
with a **** personality,
no integrity, or originality.


you will never be kurt cobain,
or layne staley..., sorry to crush your dreams....
but you're just another clone,
in a flannel jacket,  and ripped jeans...

you rant on and on
about what's right and wrong,
please give me a break,
and no, you're not edgar allen poe...
you're just a ******, with an over inflated ego...
you're so low, and fake.

I am from the outdoors
from Febreeze and smoked salmon
I am from the snow covered hills
and the ice covered lakes
I am from the crowded hockey rink
the cheers and jeers
and the season ticket seats
familiar and worn

I'm from hunting and fishing
from Stacy and Layne
I'm from the military
and bad eyesight
from " 'Merica!", "Let's get DOWN!"
and raps about vicious kitties
I'm from Def Leppard, George Strait
and the Beach Boys

I'm from Hacienda and Chili's
caribou sausage and moose jerky
From the fishing hook my dad
stuck in his finger
The collarbone my brother broke on the ice... twice

This is where I come from
These things are my past
and my present
But the future is in the distance
around the bend
beyond the horizon
And I am eager for it to come

A family of farmers near there be
That treateth all folk kindily
Who follow by the chapel creed
And gladly lend a hand to those in need
Three brothers are they in truth
No longer in the prime of youth
Though the father is still alive
And longer may he live and thrive

On the corner with his wife there be
A farmer now retired comfortably
Often when he sees folks walk
He stops his car to have a talk
Common sense he has in good measure
And to hear him always is a pleasure

Another farmer too lives off the layne
With his wife, the same again
They have two cottages they rent out
As well as sundry acres round about
Which bring them rent into their hand
And so they live off the fat of the land

A woman lives half way down our layne
Her husband died which was a shame
She must have shed many tears
For he was only sixty-five in years
But she does not live alone
Her daughter lives with her at home
She keeps her house as would a saint
No cracks in walls or flaking paint
Like a wooden ship of old
It faces out on fields that gently fold
Also she has her parents there
In a barn converted with great care

And then we have a bungalow I say
Where the father works on the farm all day
He drives a tractor he calls his own
And they have two boys now fully grown

There is a little cottage at the end
Where the owners like to spend
A day or two to come to stay
For they are vets and work away

Then there is us here as well
But for sure truth to tell
You know me well enough I fear
So I'll not describe myself just here

It was quite evident as a teenager , drawing Boston's guitar shaped space ship on the back of an English book , playing the opening riff to Smoke on the Water with a broomstick
Hiding in the closet , listening to Kiss's first album , singing in front of the mirror to REO Speedwagon
Bad Company on the eight track in my '63 Ford Falcon , taking a Guess Who album to show and tell in Kindergarten
Reciting every lyric on Three Dog Night albums , Foreigner turned up so loud that the windows would ratttle !
Learning Free songs note by note on the guitar , playing Born to be Wild like I was on a World Tour
My heroes are Page , Scholz , Perry and Geddy Lee ! Soundgarden , Alice in Chains , Mott the Hoople and Queen
Jimi Hendrix bringing his Strat to life , Eddie's blistering fretwork !
Crosby , Stills and Nash , three part Angelic vocal harmonies , Ronnie James Dio wailing like a banshee !
A Gibson through a Marshall , A Fender through a Vox , a Tele through a Peavey , a Rickenbacker through an Orange !
Jim Morrison turning poetry into song , Elton John baring his soul through the piano
Eddie Vedder in a trance on stage , Anne Wilson crying out in pain  , Layne Staley raising the hairs on the back of your neck , the reassuring voices of McCartney and Lennon , every musical note committed to paper by George Harrison
Chris Cornell screaming into the night , the aura of Robert Plant onstage
the sweet guitar work of Eric Clapton , heart wrenching soul of Janis Joplin
The wailing guitar of Robin Trower , the blues power of Rory Gallagher
Siren song of Annie Lennox to the infectious , brilliant lyrics of Tom Petty

I'm not as skinny, and I love my curves.
2. I have less money in my bank account, but it's okay.
3. My tea is better than your's now.
4. I forget what your shoulder smells like.
5. I've had better ***.
6. Our naughty videos make me sad, not turned on.
7. I'm forgetting your family members' names.
8. My hair is darker and my lips are fuller.
9. I don't seek anyone's approval. I am who I am.
10. I've moved twice.
11. I've loved someone other than you.
12. I graduated from college.
13. I'm not afraid of going to your old neighborhood in North Philly.
14. I'm not ashamed of my music aesthetic
15. I love myself..

They can call it what they want
But amidst your pain
You deserved one selfish moment
Call it want you want
But amidst your fury
You blackened the whitest of faces
And they might still make the make-up
But you shook me to the core
Shook me to the bone
Took me to a place of unknown refuge
Took me to a home
We've all left the cradle
But few of us remember the rocking
The serenity sway
We've all been burned
But few of us recognize the flame
Of blue consistency
Memory, always in their favor
When you just need someone
In the present tense
Soak us in tragedy
Leave us with a laugh
I truly hope you've found
Your colored clay
And all your wounds are healed

I write with a pink Bic now

My phone is white and out of storage and I’m not connected to the
   cloud because it freaks me out, so every time I delete a picture, she
   asks “are you sure?” And I “delete anyway”
My high school best friend’s cousin’s husband just died and I’m
   wondering why I’m weeping for a kin I never grew akin to, a mere
   stranger, a subtle blip in my matrix. But his poetry
   is beautiful, I know that. And his music is beautiful, I know that.
I drank a root beer float tonight and the night before, or did I eat it? It
   reminded me of buying 99 cent slushes at Convenient. Or the
   “healthy” slushes I bought to accompany my soft pretzel everyday
   in middle school.
On the terrace, everyone else ate hot dogs and I looked down,
   holding my soggy French fries and wondering what else there is out
   there besides ketchup and mustard: like in Princess Diaries when
   Julie Andrews puts mustard on her corndog. I always thought
   that was so cool.
Or when Mia Thermopolis sit sideways in her giant comfy chair after
   throwing darts at balloons filled with paint aka “stupid cupid stop
   picking on me” or is it… “hitting on me”
Remember when Ben Day asked for pictures and when you sent cute
   selfies in your sports bra, he responded, “okay, but can they not be
   of your face?”
Or when Ben Wilson taught you that “hurt people hurt people” and
   had “ultra conservative” on his Facebook page underneath political
   views and you had go ask what that meant. I Corinthians 1:13 or
   something like that was always my favorite bible verse because its
   the only one I ever learned by heart.
Hail Satan.
We all rot under late capitalism.
But I didn’t know that then. I know that now, but not then.
Now I wonder mostly about the ethics behind “procreating.” I wanna
   bear fruit, but I can’t even stand the thought of myself burning in a
   fiery pit, let alone my spawn.
But,
My stepsister is pregnant. She found out the “gender” today, “boy.”
   My nieces and nephews have had a very gendered upbringing, I
   guess I did too: barbies and bratz and Betty spaghetti.
I know everyone always says they just want a “healthy, happy baby”
But I have a crippling nicotine addiction and manic depression, I’m
   not healthy or happy.
Do you think I was the idea my parents pictured when my mom peed
   on that stick and got a plus sign?
Probably not.
I hate to disappoint.
They can live in the glory days when my cursive handwriting was
   better than anyone else’s in my second grade class. Olivia Layne
   Ulmer on that brown, dotted, lined paper.

With a yellow no.2 pencil.