Whereforto Ye Wanderers

Whereforto Ye Wanderers.

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Ozark Punk

April's all green
here in the Ozarks
by Beaver Mill Lake
the tiretreads get thicker
down these old roads
that last gooey bit of bait
and fishing tackle
plops into the water
that elegant stinkbait
the lake thick with bass and catfish
They say that punk rock doesn't belong here
well does it anywhere?
(these days maybe so I hear
but not here).
I've got my stratocaster
with the squiggly handmade designs on the body
and my Descendents sticker
and my Minor Threat sticker,
I live alone
I've got my disability check
so I've got time to kill
and I practice all day
for that day
my big break.
--Put out that craigslist ad for a drummer and a bassist
got the one response
but sounded redneck wingnutty, not that there's much wrong with that,
but possibly violent,
I just got that vibe
he referenced Hank 3 way too much--
So for now I play to the trees
on those lush creeping nights
where crappy and mosquitoes bite,
Those three big chords
maybe sometimes more.
I think, how do I protest this dumb nation?
I just keep playing,
every Monday I walk to the post office to drop my letters off that they'll never publish in Maximum RocknRoll.
This summer I know
that the air'll get thick
maybe I can catch a gig
or else I think,
I'll get over
playing this simple punk music
into the dead of night
and walking down to the docks
with my cold one at midnight.