Scream of Conscienceless (the Jersey Punk.)

Here come the misunderstood youth of a divorced generation, those Punk-rockers and Diner Boys who reek like Weed with Dead Kennedys patches on their scraped-up knees, broken skateboards and broken families, with tupperware containers of cold tortellini and Long tangled hair with tattoos of N.J., crawling from Basements in Burbs with Blood-red eyes in search of Disco-fries and take Rides on the DeCamp 33 to set them free from everything their parents want them to be and See Brooklyn, They learned anatomy from back-wall pornography in Quick Stop or 7/11, And their words from Glenn Danzig, not Parents caring and summers spent in South Jersey skate parks where older kids Showed them what boges are, and how to Kick-flip. This is our Generation, where Violence raised us on glowing screens and the desert wars taught us to Hate and fear the government, a bunch of pussies in Suits who fuck up the Planet, and try to assassinate Ed Snowden. This is Our Generation, where we live in the America we didn’t create and don’t want, and the Old Ways are dying, and Something new will rise to fill their place


About marcofreschi

I live in the Ocean and write poetry View all posts by marcofreschi

One response to “Scream of Conscienceless (the Jersey Punk.)

  • ayyandj


    It is candle original
    Made out of paraffin
    Just the height of
    My middle figure
    White in view

    Sitting in a dark alone
    Calm and the doors are closed
    No air circulation by fan
    As it is a lonely place
    With no electricity

    The match sticks which
    Helped me to light a
    Cigarette lighter the
    Candle also

    Now it gives me a
    Very small flame
    Yellow in color
    Gold of its kind

    I am looking at the flame
    It gives a vision
    As if she lives showing
    Her face with a
    Smile on face

    How long it will show
    Her face
    As long as my heart and
    Inner mind
    Thinks about the past

    Her eyes are shedding tears
    The drops are falling on
    The melted wax and
    Sliding on its side

    She is gone and flied away
    In the smoke of the cigarette
    As fire took her and cracked all
    She is gone up in fire and smoke

    A cup of drink
    May help me to ease
    My mind
    The spirit may help

    To perish me too in fire
    Oh! God do you want
    Candle to make
    Light on feet -Ayyan

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