Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2014
We rocked, we rolled,
strolled through the revelers,
rocket scientists
wearing ripped jeans
& pointed rattlesnakes,
some had rose tats.

Cocksure, we rode
the ferris wheel
above the skyline
of never never land
& right down the street,
there was enough armament
to level all the strip malls
in the Springs.

Funny, they told us
we were the violent ones,
the dangerous kind,
tightly wound psychos
who sung anthems,
those sweet child 'o mine
pop tunes.

So hell yea,
we were tough,
the no-prisoner-types,
trained-to-**** fighters
wearing pearled buttons,
sipping Boone's Farm,
we continued
to spin circles,
spitting into the
cold Colorado wind.
Jonny Angel
Written by
Jonny Angel  GRB090423
(GRB090423)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems