Wednesday, August 30, 2017

The Punk Years (Part Four)

We had finally scored a victory, due to the Santa Barbra show, and were finally able to break apart from the other shitty bands...with our own brand of shittyness. When we were packing up the car that night, Mr. Mohawk (The promoter) ran up to us, fuming at the mouth.

Mr. Mohawk- You motherfuckers will never play here again! You're fucking banned!

And while he was ranting and raving, our new found minions were chanting our name as they exited the parking lot in their parents pick up mobiles.

 Even Scott was in better spirits after that show, but after two more years of causing mayem, he finally threw in the towel. No one was really upset about this, since he was the odd man out in this group. So, we said our farewells with our middle fingers, and Todd became the new axe man of KFC.

But what about the drummer position?

Well, our buddy Raj joined us. His band at the time went by the name of None The Less. I don't remember the whole story but I think his band was on hiatus at the time, so after a few practices, he was able to gel nicely with the rest of us knuckle heads. He only played for us for about a year, but the time we had spent together was a blast. Raj was a cool guy.

I was a booking maniac at the time. So, with the help of "Book Your Own Fucking Life" I was able to put our first tour together. B.Y.O.F.L. was created by Maximum Rock and Roll. This handy little guide pretty much had every phone number and contact name to whomever was putting together punk shows in America. That three dollar investment got us twenty shows from LA to Longview, Washington and back. I think we actually profited a good thirteen hundred dollars with that two weeks, stuffed in Pauls Honda.

 For the next two years though, the revolving band member door began to move. Raj was feeling the pressure from his other band, and after we played this crazy show that involved fifty plus people fighting in the pit ( Skinheads verses punks ), he said his goodbyes.

We were playing at the time when this little incident went down, and on top of that, I booked the band that brought the Nazis. So, we got red flagged by the punk rock community for a while. I actually got death threats for a good week after that show. I tried to explain my position of business and that we were not apart of this group, but no one wanted to listen.

I will go more into this story in the next posting.

Sunday, August 27, 2017

Zosters




The world needs its monsters....

So, that its people can check off their moral rosters

And eliminate their personally elected imposters

 Idealistrc mobsters, living like rock stars
Think of them as zosters...
Erupting every now and then....

And like the gannet...
It doesn't matter how fast you swim...
Singing a death hymn trying to smack the world
In the chin....

Turning hopeful to grim
While the peace light quickly turns to dim
And your soul is released from within


But, if they are the righteous
I might just be the devil
Less them human vampires, multiplying like rabbits
Taking crazy to another level

War is a necessary evil for our race to thrive
The masses will never believe you...
When you tell them without it,
We would have fucked ourselves to death
And ceased to survive....
Brought to our knees, with famine and disease
Because we are never using our minds
Just living for sex, until we are out of breath
Losing focus and wasting our time
And this is when the Zosters erupt again
Cutting us down like swine

 

Tuesday, August 22, 2017

Tony the Bully


The bell rang, it was recess time....

 

I was a small boy of eight, around 1979
 

We had twenty minutes....

To raise hell...
 

Before returning to class

Which always felt like a prison cell
 

Being force fed reading, writing, and math

And If I was given the chance, I definitely wouldn't go back

 

Oh, what to do? 

Got no time to stand in line....

I might as well forget about the swings

And try my luck at the slide
 

But before I knew what was going on

Something had terribly gone wrong

When my face was slammed into the dirt

By some Italian jerk....
 

Who was wearing a "Chewbaca  Rocks" baseball shirt

Oh, what the hell? This means war!

But before, I could get up, he pushed me down, once more...

 

He said, " At three o'clock at the park, your ass is grass!"

I agreed to this battle, trying not to laugh....

 

The clock struck three...

I waited with my friends for the Italian bully

I tried to look courageous but inside

Fear was overtaking my foolish pride

And that's when his sister rode up on her bike

And skidded to a halt at my side, and said...

"My stupid brother is on his way. He's going to stomp your face, DEAD!"

 

I gulped, I shook, but I stood my ground

I probably would have split, if none of my friends were around

And that's when I heard the sound....
 

Of running sneakers, in the distance
 

Tony was on his way, angry as always, and with persistence 
 

He yelled, " You're dead punk. I'm going to do this slow."

He swung, I ducked, and then flipped him with a judo throw

Everyone just gasped because they were surprised to see...

I just laughed, and said, "I learned that from watching TV."
 

And my finishing move that gave Tony disgrace

Was a handful of sand into his eyes and face

I definitely couldn't have had won, and destroyed this jerk

If it wasn't for my master James T. Kirk

 

Don't take shit from anyone....

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thursday, August 17, 2017

No Borders


She was shown the stars...

 From their apartment rooftop.....

Locating Venus and Mars with an old scope
Propped up with a boot string, tied to a crude mop

 Pop, then took out his compass from his jacket
While shaking his head about the traffic down below making a racket

 And introduced the mechanics to her with excitment
Hoping that she would listen long enough
To gain some knowledge and enlightment

" To the East of here is where I was born. I was a sworn warrior from California, molded and worn from its shores. The red tailed hawks soared above me, as the waves carved  the warm sands. Leaving the beaches crippled and torn. To the North is where your grandparents still reside. Make sure you spend time with them when they are still alive. Thier stories will make your mind healthy and wise. To the South, is where the birds fly when it gets colder. Us humans follow suit, when we grey and get older. And to the West, is where the sun dips, so the moon can take over. And be the beacon of light for the poor crossing man made borders. But, where ever you go, respect where you are. And the world will take care of you like its own very star."

They then stood there in silence
And gazed at the heavens
A dog barked in the distance


And Pop realized it was almost eleven

Without saying a word, she agreed with a yawn
And before packing up, he thought to himself


His place of birth will light up with the dawn

Sunday, August 13, 2017

Junior


 
Being spiderman is awesome....



Especially, when you're a fireman as well. With a monster truck playing mosh up, under the faucet, looking for the underwater mothership Scooby Doo lunch pale...

 

He goes off the rails with his super hero tales.
Exploring adventurous trails Stomping over monster bodies and oozing entrails
Blood and guts feeds his fire and puts wind in his sails

From making shit or breaking shit ....

To collecting bugs and snails

Prevailing over evil and chopping through dragon scales

He's a mama's boy and the end of the day
She calms  him down from his fantasy play
But, as soon as the sun rises and washes away the morning grey

It's back to work for more zombies to slay ……

 

Wednesday, August 9, 2017

Waiting at the Gate


I was walking with my friends....
The sun was going down, blinding our vision

Black and tans in our hands, holding back our frowns, saying goodbye once again...

Our summer days, had come to an end, we saddled up with precision
And this is when, our crazy night  had began....

We made our way to a buddies house, but, he wanted some time alone on his old stained couch....
To explore the inside of a new girlfriends blouse
While AC/DC played in the background....
"Giving The Dog a Bone"

We fully could comprehend.....
So,we finished our drinks
Thinking about an excuse for the group to leave
I couldn't believe how easy it was to pretend
Saying our goodbyes again, while stuffing beers up our sleeves

Another girl....
Was with our clan, and stuck by my side
Drunk and thoughtless, cold and heartless, the rest eventually died
I became her world, while the group faded away in the darkness
Leaving their mark spotless, by the broom of life
In my subconscious, hand in hand with a future wife?

But, after many fights, during whiskey nights
Overwhelmed, she silently cried...
We sobered up, and she went ahead without saying goodbye
Just another one night stand, filled with drunken lies

I was an old jester....
Living out my best years 
Wandering its endless hallways
In a House of Mirrors
 
I lost my last peer....
When I tried to build a nest with her
Shuddering, that this might be the end of me

I was running late, all alone and feeling alien
And this is when I woke up, wiping the slobber from my chin
Strangers come and go in my dreams, like passing trends
But my true friends are waiting at the gate



Ready to walk and laugh, in the sun again....

Monday, August 7, 2017

Tech No!


Followers kiss the rings....

Of their heavy metal kings
And raise their pints to punk rock heroes

It's a beautiful thing when the gospel sings...

And hip hop fills the pockets of ghetto kids with ones and zeroes
Folk singers tell stories of forgotten places....

Reminding us of the good and the bad, while cold beer chases

Blues men keep grim tales alive, and the devil waiting
And country plays in the background during barnyard dating

But, then there is techno, which I truly don't understand
It sounds like a car alarm while beating pots and pans
A mixture of Galaxy Quest and a rusty electric fan
Moving the bodies of a million retarded dancing fans
While improving drug dealer business plans
Fire whirl....
Consuming hearts patience
Enigmatic twirl...
Love succumbs to complaisance
Music fills the soul...
And builds different relations
From the cream of the crop....
To raver kid retardation
Mistaking DJs as talent and pushing them to the top
When they are only stolen art imitations
Let's come together and flush this defecation
Displacing pop fables, making the world more spacious

Like making the insane waitress take back the stale coffee
Sneering, for the simple fact that we had the nerve to say this
How long do we have to wait for this?
 
It's time to form an alliance with each other
And come together as long lost sisters and brothers....
Reboot true talent and burn away this clutter

Destroying this lameness should be like bread and butter
  

Tuesday, August 1, 2017

The Punk Years (Part Three)

   After a couple months of practice we scored our first gig. The venue was at the now defunct "Blue Saloon", which was a local watering hole in North Hollywood. It was fun but something was definitely missing, other than the lack of audience.

 We kept on plugging away through out the local club scene in Los Angeles, and eventually, we figured out what we were doing wrong. There was no chaos. We were just another band paying their dues. We had the songs, but we needed something more to take us to the next level.

  So, one night as we were heading to another gig down in Santa Barbra, Paul and I had a conversation.....

Paul- Yo dude. I've been thinking about the shows that we've been playing, and I don't think that they are getting us anywhere.

Me- Agreed. Any ideas?

Paul- I'd rather be infamous than anonymous, so let's destroy this club tonight.

Me- (laughing) Sounds fun. What's the plan?

Paul- I brought along a couple bags of tortillas and popcorn, plus, I picked up a bunch of stuffed animals at the local Goodwill. Let's pelt the audience and start a fight.

Me- That sounds awesome. Should we tell Scott? I know Todd will be down, but you know how our guitar player can be.

Paul- He'll probably be a little bitch about it as usual, but fuck him.

  And for the rest of the ride, all that could be heard from Pauls Honda was our maniacal laughter over the music of Devo....(Paul was a huge fan)

 When we arrived at the club, we were greeted by the promoter. He was one of those "I really want to be more punk rock than you...but never will" kind of fellas. And with his freshly cut mohawk with frosted tips, he led us backstage to get ready.

  Anyway, about twenty juvenile delinquents with NoFX shirts turned up for the show, and as soon as
I nailed some kid in the face with a teddy bear, they went berserk.

It took them less than five minutes to destroy the club with our ammunition, and as soon as song four had begun, the promoter pulled the plug.

Mr Mohawk- Get the fuck out of here!

Me on the mic- Thank you for coming! We're Kung Fu Chicken....and your not!

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