Lori Boulard

0001 Punks - Poem by Lori Boulard

Not believing in anything I just sit,
listening to my breathing.
After thirty years
It still goes in and out.
-Albert Coelho

We see the world through blackened eyes
and heavy shoes, dead-set non-conformists,
every one armed with black iron hair,
steel chains, and barb-wire biceps.
We wear a uniform of all black, but this
is New York where everyone does.

South of Bleecker we congregate
like cousins at a wedding,
determined not to care, but we do.
Our parents don't understand.
The police are against us, and
the government has failed.
You admit we have a point.

On Sunday mornings we move
from one end of Greenwich to the other,
paired up like zippers
on an old leather jacket, chanting lyrics
like psalms reaffirming our religion.
Give us time. We are only just beginning
to question everything, understand
less, believe in nothing.

Comments about 0001 Punks by Lori Boulard

  • Jazib KamalviJazib Kamalvi (2/7/2018 11:41:00 AM)

    A refined poetic imagination, Lori. You may like to read my poem, Love And Lust. Thank you. (Report)Reply

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  • Sue Ann Simar (11/30/2008 7:13:00 PM)

    It still goes in and out and on and on. Clever, satisfying poem. (Report)Reply

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  • Gi Galen (10/12/2008 12:33:00 AM)

    Interesting image, poetic 'portrait' … 'special effects'-10 (Report)Reply

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, October 12, 2008

Poem Edited: Monday, September 24, 2012

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