Rock N Roll Attic

My Rock N Roll addict Dad's Rock N Roll attic
is dank and dusty since Dad overdosed 
on Rock N Roll.

My Heavy Metal mother packed up her leather
and put it with my Dad's eternal shrine
to Rock N Roll.

Tonight, I'll turn on some musty Marshall
to launch the ether of some bass faced ghost
and  when my high E bends and breaks
and my vibrato tremolos like a screaming demon
 I'll head first stage dive into the arms
of my Dad's Rock N Roll.

Daytona 5000

Charlie's "Hot Rod" roared and ripped 
the face off father's big bad skull.
Now skulking faceless father walks
the dull dark track in bone black night,
fire water veins and fist fight urge,
a prolonged vomit, a bloody bout,
a wild moon and high speed life:
 a savage road rash sacrifice.

The Pubic Waking

The Monday after
that first stroke,
I stroked again
and made mad love
to the Frankfurt Boys,
a local band.