• One more anti-hero worship
    from the depths
    of some enigmatic fool
    that left the suburbs
    for the open fields
    of post modern flight from hell.
    No, not from the quakes
    or the rumblings of racism,
    that stench we all tend
    to want to get rid of,
    but the fact that there
    were just too many things wrong.
    So off I went to the last
    journey of my youth,
    through the pubs and alleys
    of Los Angeles that served
    many nights of reckless talk
    and the establishment be damned.
    There goes Happy House, Scream
    and all those open up at 10 pm
    party houses, where you paid 5 bucks
    to drink yourself to life,
    and walk out Saturday morning at 6 am
    like the kind demons we were.
    And dance the pain that we had
    kept for the week
    and wonder what 30 would be like
    and if the Virgin Prunes
    were right about
    "If I die I die".
    But then, that love in your soul
    the one that makes you write
    and pour out those false indignities
    that caress your heart and mind
    for after all we've been through
    stars have their moments and then they die. crying