Copyright for photo to original author (Remove filter)
77, 78, PUNKed
Our yesteryear
Youngster's fear, turned to dust
Just then. We discovered punk,
we dunked our souls
unlikely society trolls, we were individuals
residuals, no modern comparison
An Oliver's army garrison, we fought back
dressed in black, moved by the beat,
leather booted feet stomped the city.
what a pity, Johnny Rotten died
We cried, while out of reach
On Rockaway B...
Thursday 21st September 2023 8:52 am
Recent Comments
Bethany Sallis on Haiku; illegal loggers.
1 hour ago
R A Porter on Bungalow Dreaming
3 hours ago
prakhar dhama on The indefinite sentence
5 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on Treacherous Tattoo
5 hours ago
Landi Cruz on The indefinite sentence
6 hours ago
Bethany Sallis on FOLLY'S FOOL
6 hours ago
Bethany Sallis on FOG at SEA
7 hours ago
M.C. Newberry on I Remember Joy
7 hours ago
Bethany Sallis on Final visit? ( fictional )
7 hours ago
M.C. Newberry on Bungalow Dreaming
7 hours ago