When faced with the questionable challenge

Of all things "punk"

I wondered what was the "essence" of this word

So of course, as course action

I looked it up

"worthless stuff, a worthless person; (devotee of) punk rock

or bizarre fashions",

and that was said

which didn't really reveal any essence at all

to whether punk was a person or not

and whether he (or she for that matter) sat high upon a paper hole cloud

in need of a good thrashing

(thrashing of education into them)

to make them loss the less from worth

so I took it upon myself

to write a poem* *(and then a collection or two)

a poem to broaden a punks mind

to the fact that there is a world beyond what they see and what they here

that they are not always right, and that others do them wrong

(and in this part I count myself among the numbers who thought/fought this way)

and that their opinions don't count above all others

but to them also, most importantly

they are not something fastened down like a label for recommended use

"don't wash over 40 degrees, may break out into colours of marketed angst

and opinions unsure even of themselves"

to the fact that they are still here with us

not on some high cloud, six six six

where the cord we follow leads to the same shade of light

, there are no exceptions

(except me)

I took it upon myself to disguise myself among them

To pry them open and then hide in an open grave

("a brilliant ally of his own gravediggers")

as they clenched their fists and realised I had played the fool all along

(but for this, some will laugh: he was not misguided into losing himself after all)

and then scrap all their Youthisms and Americanisms so wrongfully adopted and disgusted on the tongue

in order to find a better march

with stronger feet that will walk in time with the single mind

and a purified, distant, destination

(illiterate wonders, literature poetry off the wall abstraction is open for all, go find it

music is becoming so it is a dead thing, no longer becoming because it is marketed, you can't market words from the mind of another man? music is dead now that we feel we must pay for our privileges and everything is same, read read read! change your claims)

a breath is taken, a pause, for the "punks", to collect their valued thoughts.

but at the same time I suppose,

it's healthy for community and society

and healthier for these things to exist

when they spread off, into (pigeon) holes

conflict might appear

causing shifting rifts

where "punk" is no longer a badge of pride and honour

but a nasty black scar, deep cut insults with modern offshoots

and the actual word "punk" more than fades to black

the meaning argued over by the die-hards, who won't die so easy

unless they one this infernal internal immortal argument of life

(without point and thus without shame)

the scar that hurts the more things change

and the more other people

share that very same scar, so it resembles your own

as if surgically (re)constructed to be

so

it's, ridiculous

Doing unnatural things

on the streets

and on the buses that take us there

and that bind us like an unnatural landscape of sound

doing unnatural things

like thinking for yourself

or not thinking at all,

being braindead, brainwashed with no where to go

doing unnatural things

like standing on your own two feet

standing your ground

looking around and just analysing what is seen

doing unnatural things like blocking out all sound

ignoring all the things you've heard a thousand times

only storing them away to make you a fortune

doing unnatural things like telling the truth

saying you understand

and going out of your way to make things work

or even worse

by contradicting yourself

time and time again

doing unnatural things

like speaking out of turn

like smiling out of face

comedy of unexpectance

is a lifetime's work

and comedy of ill humour

always makes me laugh

doing unnatural things

like living a calamity

a farce put on of your

stand up straight

clumsily, flimsily

weaving webs across

to trap them all

doing unnatural things

like laughing at yourself, with yourself

and believing in one belief

and all people

that there's always good in someone

even if you can't see it

you laugh at it, because you know it's there

doing unnatural things

like forcing a natural high

and shining at life

because life's to be shined

non of this fake chemical stuff

doing unnatural things

like making gestures

about what is and what is not

natural

after all

to the death,

to the death,

always to the death