Small Town Notes

Small Town notes:

The secret to living in a small town is knowing when to go!

The town that finds you will bind you!

It’s time to give up the drugs…When the drugs give up on you!

Immoral acts are a prelude to the immoral scars left on you!

You, yourself and someone that looks like you…

Either way your wear your town well.

the baggage, the backtalk, the smell.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

New Hampshire has yet to step away from sedate behavior it has grown accustom to…Franklin is it’s skanky underbelly without under garments!

Grungy Imagination

Light has faded.

Only dabs of green, dirty white, pristine black and cleric gray.

A constant embrace each and everyday.

As, grunge fumbles her way toward the horizon.

Offering no predestination.

Plating, placating, instead.

A landscape in lackluster imagination.

ā„‘
Uninspired on cue, as if it were something new.

Ruin in red, seen as constantly, up ahead.

Tantrum in tranquil, teal.

As the sun begins to kneel.

Imagination the palette where art is stirred.

the little Funky Town

imageedit_118_7100769337

the little Funky town…next to where we were.

Momentum of acorn’s debris.

lackadaisical-ly, organized chaos.

Melody out on the edge of no particular place.

Bias go free.

ā†“

As the inner tantrum deliver’s rare, raw, sanctum days.

A remembrance of hoodlum and humdrum.

No royalties here.

Just misogynistic femininity.

Proper places where talking mannequins feel fit.

Vintage homesteads…playing dead.

ā†“

Forks stuck in the dead-end road.

Worth the whiling away of long, straw, days…and, slower than molasses, evenings.

Living out softly.

On the shoe strings and pedigrees.

 

Small Town Notes

Small Town notes:

 

The secret to living in a small town is knowing when to go!

The town that finds you will bind you!

It’s time to give up the drugs…When the drugs give up on you!

Immoral acts are a prelude to the immoral scars left on you!

You, yourself and someone that looks like you…

Either way your wear your town well.

the baggage, the backtalk, the smell.

 

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

 

New Hampshire has yet to step away from sedate behavior it has grown accustom to…Franklin is it’s skanky underbelly without under garments!

the Deliverance of 603

My Forest 4 Your Poor

I am the bread box of this life.

I am a 603 soul…

tangy, tangible,twang

secluded, secular, whole.


Our Town, mine and theirs, grunge and danger…

Pert and purposeful.

Kindness and Cruel.

Poised on the edges of insanity

Sittin’ on a fence of needled delights.

Our Town, mine and theirs…

Blind in a drunken fight.

Urban Foot Decay
Urban Foot Decay

Boxed up in discounts dislocated on the five and dime floor.

Hidden loons, madness and it’s band…

603 has forgotten it’s ugly cousin…once more.

Grunge town: a social networking service for the disenfranchised.
Grunge town: a social networking service for the disenfranchised.

I am a bread box.

Neither bigger than a last ditch effort.

Nor smaller than the malt not in stock.

Our town, mine and theirs…

Once upon a time…

Brothers and sisters and worker bees and fallen stars…

Housed on a dare.