ode to kickin it

[thecolorsunset]

They lined the streets
bouncing about at the corners
As blind love yearning fools


Needing someone ,something to cover their vulnerable backs.
They wandered the streets
grasping the frayed straps of their teenage blanky back packs..


Rucksacks so personal and bulging with their fun filled essentials,
beyond vessels of beers bongs and pretty pills.
planned and packed in giddy delight
walkmans that would erode in crazy time
being tossed after the last smack and wiggles failed to produce a beat.
Books blank in waiting,
books spilling with high hormone rambling and morning mundane madness
all so live flowing and scribbled.
occult sections raided and stuffed into their bags
as the hungry filled their mouths with illicit bread.
Paints crayons pens pens pens
the world of PHAT BLACK pens
that wrote their names on everything
doors trains walls bathrooms and party ceilings
mothers screaming
"WHO WROTE ON MY FUCKING CIELING"
as the party overflowed and the girls from the malls malls malls filed in
all wearing black black black


while she colored and had stash pockets in her skate shoes
though she didn't skate
while she had one liter yogurt containers of the faeiries pot
and that wasn't a metaphor she really did.
the soldier of fortune sure to carry
more toys trolls and treats than any other
but she's another wad of words
so I digress


but I digress?




In the mornings grind and rush they'd sleep
jolting sleep
pupilated they'd
trace webs in the trains floor
and all the while they'd dodge the blue mans pad
because who new it was a new month
therefore time for a new pass
for the timed freedom of transit
Of course you'd be hard pressed to find a watch on any of them
these be free livin spirits I tell yeah
spirits I say


a scattered few held it all together with ducttape
rolls and rolls and hats wallets badges
labels covered with the beautiful tear of tape
these the nights and sights of teenage blanky back packs
personalized bedrooms slouched low over dirty bottoms.
from sharp to dust wrecked
these satchels of teen time wander
they paced the cities in knots of many threads
Weaving skies,highs and all the time screaming hormone wild.

[Goat]

oooooooo. that dope

definitly kicken

"WHO WROTE ON MY FUCKING CIELING"

ahahhahahahahahha...my bad

good stuff