# An (ugh) poem



## deathrehearsal (Nov 6, 2016)

Traveling and writing always went hand in hand for me and traveling for me was a way to inspire and create a life worth writing about. I don't travel these days but I still write quite a bit. I was digging through some old stuff today and found somethings that someone here may appriciate. Also I'm thinking about putting together a literary/arts zine this winter and I'd love to hear from travelers interested in contributing. Thanks for reading. 

The punk exploded
while whistling cooperation against his will
a mist of blood hung farewell in the air as
airborne hands scurried like stray cats from his arms
after the no-business rats of alleyways
rib bones, blood and hair all sailing their own skyward directions
a thousand minute missiles of him
painting the landscape with the same shit and vomit he'd been force fed
all his life, and what poignant poetry
born in the moment the body and the alleyway meet,
the alleyway; a space which is in itself created by the absence of the institution
yet could not exist without it and the body which the institution 
claims as another common commodity
the occupying resident therein also defined by the boarders which keep it.

The punk exploded ceremoniously returning to the world all it had given
the detonation of his shattered brilliance making mice of him
though providing few with an igneous flash of nourishment
catalyzing activation energy required for instant evolutionary mutation:
those extra ordinary biological organisms fortunate enough to habituate the circumferential fallout
experienced something of a cellular avalanche!
tumbling with exponential subversion until the organism developed into an anarchy of its own species!
and
a small army of self-exploding punks rose up from the proverbial pond water
of that gunpowder messiah,
super human skin bags of angst and piss, fist balled killers singing their own sonic death marches as they trudge through a world constipated with traffic jams and satellite dishes,
fuses lit by nanny government laws dictating diet, dialect, skin color, chemical consumption
and the words one may choose to express that which loiters in the shamefully gentrifying ghetto of their chronically evicted squatter’s souls, swallowing 20 pt. headline and tin pressed police badges,
breathing the exhaust vapors of a moral economy in decline, unlucky dodgers of pigeon shit and stray bullets, dice rollers and collectors of loose teeth, counting the days not with numbers
but measuring time by a gradient of rage, an empirical digression of stability,
an army of what you fear most spreading like a pandemic to YOUR neighborhood,
breaking down your front door, courting your daughter with a razor-sharp wit and a pair of brass knuckles to wear like a promise ring.

assimilation is now complete, we are
building steam into a cankerous whistle
announcing,

We are everywhere!
and as an another punk explodes
another ten are born
We are everywhere!
an invisible army
of smiling self-liberating flashes of
communicable disease
airborne transmission
via human pipe bomb
infectious as fucking love.


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## Rob Nothing (Nov 8, 2016)

more poems! sweet man


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