Punk Poet
I keep falling in love with your
nihilism. Go ahead and lick
the scars left after the cuts. I’m
attracted to the scent of your
apathy. I just ripped my shirt for
the fuck of it. You tattoo anarchy
on my palm with permanent ink.
To know you’re flesh I watch for
you to bleed when pierced. So
you want to dominate my so what.
As part of finding the right tone and context for my punk history of 1977, I redacted a copy of The Rebel by Albert Camus (Vintage Books, 1956, 306 pp.), working on the project between 2014.07.01-2017.11.24. Many themes emerged aligned with the punk attitude of the 1970s as well as my later interest in anti-narrative and history (like the page above).
Read this at the book release party. It fit the 1977 theme perfectly.
WHEN I CANNOT DISCERN
no arc nor halo
no narrative defined
scars from past cuts
no longer pink
they reported he took
a lot less than usual
there is only one way
this can end—
next time you ask
I’ll say “Yes”
Like a wild drummer or your heart skipping a beat. Like a mind opening. Like howling at the moon or reliving apathy. Like old scars. Like a new tattoo.
Not so much a history lesson as a shout out to the future. An artist picking through what we discard to make it new.
Complexity alternately unravels and tangles with context. These poems embrace the risk of obscurity.
Razor-edge sharp and buzzsaw loud.
If you believe history is not chronological but rather cyclical, then you’re not puzzled by the notion that history repeats itself.
The word “blurb,” meaning short advertisement, was coined in 1907 by F G Burgess. No surprise another Burgess then blurbs.
Smashes history, both textbook and memory, into fragments and then reassembles it into an anti-chronological “narrative” (in quotes), this collage of memoir, charts and sampled text is tied together by the thinnest of threads for the reader to pull or be pulled by.
Taking nostalgia to its root in battle and sickness, the writer/illustrator challenges the notion that time that has passed between then and now.
If I had to sum this up in one word, I couldn’t.
I reviewed Never Mind The Bullocks Here’s The Sex Pistols (released by Virgin on Oct. 28, 1977) for The Chimes, the student newspaper at SUNY Morrisville, Feb. 13, 1978, edition.
As my artist friend David says: “The internet is magic.”
The catalyst: “Gimme Your Heart” 45 by the Subs (Stiff Records 1978).
How it happened: 1) I posted a newspaper clipping my Grandma C sent me in the waning days of first-wave punk. It told the story of a punk band that saved a couple trapped in their car during a snowstorm. (See story here.)
2) David added a comment linking to the song “Gimme Your Heart” by the Subs, the punk band mentioned in the newspaper clipping.
3) David’s friend Mike added a comment linking to Discogs with the Subs record (shown above) for sale.
4) I bought the 45 (made in Scotland) off the internet that evening. It arrived about a week later.
The result: The internet is indeed magic!
John Burgess 