1977
what can I tell you
can I tell you what it was like?
would you
could you
get into your head
and
imagine for a second
a cold and wet nyc street
stepping outside of a subway...
into the unknown....
A snapshot. A moment. Something special. Looking back. Now. To me.
What was I wearing? I'll tell you that, not out of anything. It wasn't what you were wearing. It was who you were; who you represented yourself as at the time. And, in time, if you were real enough, to yourself, you were something special. You were, actually, yourself. A bit of everything you wanted to be. A bit cultivated from the time. Past, present and inner future meeting,and we loved you for it.
Me.
Long curley black hair. Velvet jacket, big lapels. A Moon and star pendant handing from one lapel. A long earring too, in my left ear. Levi 501s, the real deal, 15 bucks from an Army Navy and shrunk to fit in the shower. You were blue; but the fit was worth it.
My boots were Fryes; finding aluminum paint, coupled with finding oil one day, made it happen. Silver boots.
One block off CBGB's in the Bowery made it all happpen.
I look back today and think of the day and say thank buddha it all happened.
Back in the day as they say one of my friends told me a story that didn't make sense and actually fueled my power to fight: the best weed and the most 60s thing hadn't died but a flicker was still alive... yippies and hippies still existed and they had this hangout and even a club... Ok now it's ok to say that the hippies and yippies were the ones that had taken the world to the edge, looked over into the depths of beyond and said, no, not me, it's too hard, I'm a pussy and I can't, and left their broken dreams to me, who could still see, who could have taken then broken fragments of a world envisioned and been the glue to keep the light flowing and the world growning and the secret heart of passion knowing and held it up to the sun and seen the glow of the place where our hearts meet reimagined into the place where our souls meet and the flame of the world we hold in our hands is transformed into the light of the next person to occupy this space moves our dreams forward.....
And back in the day they say it's ok but in a quick flash of moment the stars were aligned and this person was born...
No.
This person was home. Among his own kind. And the world whirled with the secrets and words around him.
can I tell you what it was like?
would you
could you
get into your head
and
imagine for a second
a cold and wet nyc street
stepping outside of a subway...
into the unknown....
A snapshot. A moment. Something special. Looking back. Now. To me.
What was I wearing? I'll tell you that, not out of anything. It wasn't what you were wearing. It was who you were; who you represented yourself as at the time. And, in time, if you were real enough, to yourself, you were something special. You were, actually, yourself. A bit of everything you wanted to be. A bit cultivated from the time. Past, present and inner future meeting,and we loved you for it.
Me.
Long curley black hair. Velvet jacket, big lapels. A Moon and star pendant handing from one lapel. A long earring too, in my left ear. Levi 501s, the real deal, 15 bucks from an Army Navy and shrunk to fit in the shower. You were blue; but the fit was worth it.
My boots were Fryes; finding aluminum paint, coupled with finding oil one day, made it happen. Silver boots.
One block off CBGB's in the Bowery made it all happpen.
I look back today and think of the day and say thank buddha it all happened.
Back in the day as they say one of my friends told me a story that didn't make sense and actually fueled my power to fight: the best weed and the most 60s thing hadn't died but a flicker was still alive... yippies and hippies still existed and they had this hangout and even a club... Ok now it's ok to say that the hippies and yippies were the ones that had taken the world to the edge, looked over into the depths of beyond and said, no, not me, it's too hard, I'm a pussy and I can't, and left their broken dreams to me, who could still see, who could have taken then broken fragments of a world envisioned and been the glue to keep the light flowing and the world growning and the secret heart of passion knowing and held it up to the sun and seen the glow of the place where our hearts meet reimagined into the place where our souls meet and the flame of the world we hold in our hands is transformed into the light of the next person to occupy this space moves our dreams forward.....
And back in the day they say it's ok but in a quick flash of moment the stars were aligned and this person was born...
No.
This person was home. Among his own kind. And the world whirled with the secrets and words around him.
posted by a cold steel heart at 12:08 AM
1 Comments:
Figures that some asshole spammer would read this... wish I could stuff you back where you came from.
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