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Punk FRIDAY

Y’all, my little nephew, who’s nickname is “Cabbage,” wanted a “punk jacket,” like Uncle Kade’s. (EMPHASIS ON LITTLE, be nice)

So, I asked him what kind of patches he wanted on it, and this is what we came up with. Just need to sew the patches down and line the vest. I can’t wait to finish it and send it to him.

Poem is when you write a unique piece in an elegant style.

You don't have to be subtle, just play with words, that's it!

I’m tired and I’m sick to death of being without you [...]

Graham Greene, from 'The End of the Affair'

"kids these days don't loiter or act rebellious enough any more" kids just existing in public are more criminalized and surveilled than ever. almost every western country is running a panic about youth crime and how random teens standing awkwardly are a threat to civilization, and pushing for much more punitive laws. tons of states and powerful lobbies are pushing "parental right laws" that restrict the civil rights of minors even more. policing is first and foremost targeting youths, especially from low income and majority immigrant neighbourhoods. if a kid mildly steps out of line or says something awkward online or in a public space half a dozen people can whip up their phone and start mass harassment campaigns. and tech companies are now restricting access to the internet, the last way many teens can talk to each other freely and reach out to people outside family and school.

anyhow i think people really need to start giving kids at least a tiny bit more grace instead of making smug posts about how uncool they are compared to your youth days, you fucking twats

POEM

It feels like l I am immersed in salt water

There sky seen unusual than it use to

The foe showing their flag at noon

The rooster crow and sprint

They do you illusion so that you doth not savour the sweet fragrance of rain.

So that you doth not relish the pleasantness of porridge.

So that you always feel like you want something you cannot describe,

Heck! Alas!

“I have no talent, it’s just a question of working, of being willing to put in the time.” — Graham Greene

Living in Rebellion

Living in rebellion, boots scuffed with spite,

Chains clatter loud in the neon light,

Mohawk sharp, like a battle cry,

Eyes burning holes in the passersby.

"Oi, you there! Think you’re bold?

Bet you’ve never felt the city cold—

On bare knuckles, on pride, on rage,

Living life like an open cage."

Spits on the pavement, a defiant stain,

Dares the world to flinch in vain,

"Prove me wrong! Tell me I’m tame—

I’ll set fire to fear, I’ll spit on shame!"

But the crowd just walks, heads held low,

Dodging the echoes of his punk rock show,

Not with fists, but silence, they fight—

His anthem swallowed by the city night.

Still he stands, throat raw with grit,

Screaming proof that he'll never quit.

For rebellion’s not in deeds alone—

It’s in shouting loud when you stand alone.