11-6-14
I saw my name on your contacts list
and wondered how many times your finger hovered over the "call" button.
---
I hope you, or at least someone
thinks at least some things about me are cute
the way my hair sticks up and then flops over when I try to fix it
and, when pinned up,  the way it becomes gradually messier over the course of the day.
When I mouth the words to a song on the school bus,
scrunching my eyes and headbanging,
or when I spin around on my heels, and try to look graceful.
---
Frick, I shouldn't try to write about love, i'm just a thirteen-year-old girl
who grew up on the internet
and doesn't care about the ****** music she's listening to.

sun rising fast

orange light gives  public transportation a peculiar  look

pink sky is my favorite

my short skirt

and black lipstick

his long unkept hair

and Iron Maiden tee

its nice to see another misfit on the bus

mr. metal flashes me a smile

I pretend to be occupied  with my cell phone

I got a boyfriend

besides

i'm not used to flattery

mr. metal is silly

he's drumming the seats with his fingers

I pinch a  black smile

don't laugh, be sensible

putting on my librarian face

glasses on the edge of my nose

sweep back stray hairs against my sensible bun

mr. metal is staring holes into me

he is amused

now I'm sulky

go back into Gatsby and Daisy

this is a bit coincidental

we are way too funny

breaks

bells

next stop

mr.metal clashes into my world

books fly

headphones  are yanked

automatic door

next thing I know

i'm flailing off a bus

wonderful.

mr. metal is sorry

I dont know I'm laughing

til my sides start to hurt

grouchy morning bystanders are looking with interest

and the bus driver is surpressing a deep belly laugh

I remind him of his clumsy wife, sister, girlfriend, or daughter.

mr. metal is headbanging to my black sabbath

and picking up my books

suddenly I know

he has a very tired understanding mother

he helps me up

we're both wearing black nail polish

dont ask me why this is so hilarious


i'm stood up, brushed off, and looked at

he looks at me like an ex

he smells good

I blush far too easily

thanks are muttered

and we turn around to walk off

like a graceful plot

of some movie I've never seen

I get a text from baby

he takes such good care of me.

mr. metal will meet a cute girl he can pit with

at some heavy concert

and maybe when she's cold

he'll give her that leather jacket

and he'll ride the bus with her

all night long

thats what i'd like to think

either way

life is good.

whether we are playing the game wrong
or playing the wrong game
does it matter when the result is always the same?
whats that saying about outcomes always being the same?
being insane?
what would I know
there I go
talking to the wall again

(Words were given to me by classmates:
A  Vivid
B  Incredible
C  Rapid
D  Blank
E  Indubitably
F  Over)

The sight so vivid,
the feeling is incredible.
Thumping, thrashing, moshing; rapid.
All adrenaline, minds are blank.
All will have stories to tell, indubitably.
Time stops; never ending, never over.

Guitarist flicks his pick over
our heads; strobe lights so vivid.
People injure for that pick, indubitably.
Though to catch it would be incredible.
Chaos for a piece of plastic that's blank.
The crowd's desperation; movements are rapid.

Heavy metal; headbanging rapid.
Vortex as they swing their heads over.
Some are dizzy; expressions blank.
Light reflects of swishing hair; movements are vivid.
How the band maintains the rhythm is incredible.
Long night for everyone, indubitably.

The chaos will never end, indubitably.
People still moshing, everything is rapid.
Being in the center; scary and incredible.
I hope this will never be over.
Lights flashing, making everything vivid.
Flashing and thrashing; nothing is blank.

Begin a new song, backdrop is blank.
Something awesome, indubitably.
New song starts, loud and vivid.
Musicians play more rapid.
No one wants it to be over.
Lyrics speak, it's incredible.

This night is incredible!
No thoughts form, my mind is blank.
But dreadfully, it is over.
Traffic out is awful, indubitably.
My heart is still beating so rapid.
The memories are oh, so vivid.

I wish it wasn't over, the lights were so vivid!
My energy is blank, but my mind is still rapid.
The show was incredible; I'll go again, indubitably.

New years eve, could be ******



You see I wanted to go to a new years eve party
Back in the year 1995, I wanted to celebrate the good old year
Where Carlton won the flag, I booked in to go to the Wests Rugby Club party
And, I was looking forward to it, yeah I was a real smartie
I started the night having dinner with my folks, and after dinner
When the doors opened, I went into the room
Where they had the new years party with the cool band who was called Electro
And we all danced to songs like Rubber Ball, Leroy Brown, Teddy Bear and the Bohemian Rhapsody, yes we all had so much fun
They played so many other songs, and yeah I was certainly getting down, yeah
Then they played some AC/DC tunes like highway to hell, you shook me all night long and TNT, those songs were cool and I practiced my headbanging to those songs, yes it was totally cool, dudes, and after about 1 hour he started playing party music
Like Ice ice baby and achy Breaky heart, I want you back and a Cold Chisel song, Flane trees, yes I loved them, and after that,yes there were songs like
Runaround sue and when midnight hit we played prince's 1999, but we said 1995, yes we had fun that night, you know partying to every song
And chatting up every chick, and also really letting our hair down low
And after it was over some people got worried that I was alone o. New years eve
And then I won a bottle of champagne and one man wanted to **** me
Yes, I know what he was saying, I ain't a mallakka, I have to lay low
For a while, and only go out to fun events, for families
And yes, I am still happy, cause I had a cool night

We’re out front of my house,
In the front seat of your car,
It kind of stinks in here but it smells like you
So, I don’t mind
You turn on some music
And we laugh because it’s the dodgiest track

The radio screams
My heart flutters
Heavy metal bought my love
We don’t have long hair but we’re headbanging anyway
I’m giddy from my toes to the tip of my nose

People say you’re bit of an *******
****, I’m one of them who says that
But I don’t care
My friend don’t like you
My parents adore you
Marry the boy, you marry his family

I can’t help but think it’s love
When the thought of you
Comforts me even when my best friend ain’t there
And she hasn’t been there for yonks
But what we’ve got is hard as rocks

Cloudy afternoon in a rural little street
Should’ve told you then
Better a rejection than a what-if
But I didn’t speak my mind
Only let you tease me
I wonder what could’ve happened
If I had had the courage
To take my word upon my tongue
And press it onto your mouth

Punk kids, instead of having choreography or jumping up and down with hands in the air,
Punk kids knock, bounce and rattle against each other like broken glass in a bag or pin ***** in the most complicated machine,
I hate loud noise but I love loud music as long as I have my headphones
Back and forth, headbanging until the noise from our heads comes out those ringing ears
Nervous tics to music
Stress made into a party
Rocking out, rocking ourselves forward and back
Just like I do when I'm overwhelmed
Catching or reaching a hand to anyone who knocks themself down
Loose limbs and heads slack
Hands and feet across the crowd are literally twitching,
It's a monster mash looking, skeleton disco.
Some kids look possessed but they're okay with that
No one's worst demons can get in because the venue's at full capacity,
The window-watchers chase any evil spirits into the snow,
Fear and worry leave for one set because they can't stand the racket,
The rest of the day got lost in all the cables and pedals,
I bounce against kids in chains and band t shirts,
Hardly need to use my eyes,
My shoes are covered in Doc Marten footprints and people shove me and I shove them right back and I don't need to say anything in the huge mess that is the mosh pit
The room is full of people moving like zombies on a sugar high whose brains are being eaten by the music,
For a while, we let that happen.
When the final set ends
My neck and feet are sore like the speakers and amps were a workout you can buy from Guitar Center,
Headbanging is my favorite kind of cardio,
And moshing is my favorite catharsis.
The silence is everywhere as the punks exit the Scene.
I hardly know any of these people by name.
But we just performed one strange, scene kid dance
For the night to watch
When I go to bed my legs spasm
I think because
they are still dancing

death metal screeches in the background,
heart pounding,
headbanging ,
but your face is what I see.
your soul layed upon me.

daydreaming over what came to pass
and what shall be.
what shall become of you and I
endless memories flying by

truth be told, without "we" there is no me
no me to feel happy
no me to be free
your face is all I see.

so many things to be glad for
none of these compare to thee

your shining soul
belongs to me

He said, "if the girlies don't work out"
To come back here

And get **** faced

And maybe watch some bad movies
Like Predator 2

Past security, ticket given without a second glance
It could've been any old white piece of paper

But he didn't check.
Why wouldn't he check?

Inside are the real predators
The real commodifiers

Who stalk prey called women
Look at the way they look at you

Do you notice the way they look at you?
Or is it like breathing air, or a fish in water

And do you buy into the predator's worldview?
What do you really see when you look at the self?

Only what others see, perhaps?
I understand that

In the car, on the ride here
He said, "I'm looking for something special"

"I don't **** and get out"
But definitely don't stop calling them *******

The culture says who they are,
Rather, the culture says what they are

You are complicit in the culture
Just like me

A stoic face toward oppressors
Is still complacent

A face that prides itself on not objectifying women
Yet lays silent in their objectification,

Isn't he just the problem?
Aren't I that problem?

And the songs that are as unspecial as the ***
You purport to not want

Boom louder than your heartbeat
That you can't tell if it's the bass or the blood

Pulsing through your veins

How do you know what you want isn't real?
Are you oblivious to the remake, the unoriginality?

Like the songs stolen without rights,
You adopt your predecessors' predatory propensities

It's all *******.
That's what our glasses are full with.

The Irish drink to connect
We drink to waste away

The same way we do when we sit
And become one with our couch

At the heart of the Ire-land
Is a history of conflict

And inability to have conflict,
Also known as: war

So they sit and they drink
And they talk and they fight

And they all have bad livers
But their hearts aren't clogged.

But back in the club, there's a one size fits all video
Playing over the one size fits all songs

Catered to the one size fits all people
And our one size fits all pallets

In the blur of the headbanging and the deafening
We lose our precious individuality

But maybe I'm acting too pious to judge as I do
But, if you were in my shoes, wouldn't you?

the dusty old school rock cds on the cracked cubby top
brush it off, but some still remains
coughing a bit up before setting it down to reminisce
it all reminds me of
the way the Polaroid camera snapped the life outta me
how every word you said was so heavy that i started sinking
how we were headbanging for kicks and started becoming wild creatures
how the radio cringed and squealed and how we still sang every word to “Pour Some Sugar on Me.”
how the guitar riffs are just pain coming out into art
bursting with meaning and passion

the dusty old school rock cds sit there, stationary on that same cracked cubby top
and we recall the past as if it was some life-changing yesterday