Too many punks
But only in the aesthetically pleasing sense
Bought their shirts at the 5 & Dime
Along with safety pins
& commercially foraged tattoos
(Can we discuss how punk’s not supposed to be safe?)
Where’s the independence?
Where’s the penchant to damn the man?
Find your sovereign spirit
For no one’s really punk
Until everyone thinks they’re uncool
She’s not hurting anyone
What’s your inherent need to control
Let her be to live her life free
Treating her like there’s no sovereign soul
She’s young, trying to have fun
Release her from your archaic notions
You fear unbridled joy & autonomy
Unable to handle her natural range of emotion
Time to hand the world over to the youth
No need to continue your attempts to entrance
We had our time & we failed miserably
With their fresh blood, we might have a chance
Smelling like an old man
But a man nonetheless
Reapplying the Old Spice
Sovereignty against the stress
Too many fragrant like chicks
No way for a dude to smell
Are you confused by nature
For I surely cannot tell
With Summer’s moonlight shining down
We’re not alive to merely appease everyone
Reminder to exist for your soul’s own sake
Basking in the fickle warmth of the rising sun
Released from those winter storms
Contending with heat & humidity down there
Be comfortable in your sovereignty
& thus release yourself from their stares
Do not double back & suffer fools
Stretch to become your complete ability
Expanding your mind to finally believe
& thus be fully & truly free
Captain Q 