untitled

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a poem about Kurt Cobain, which is, of course, inexcusable. Bear in mind, however, that at the time I wrote it Kurt Cobain's death was still a current event. So while the poem is still a piece of crap, it was once, at the very least, timely, relevant crap.

Charlie Parker
Buddy Holly
Jimi Hendrix
Jim Morrison
Sid Vicious
Ian Curtis
Darby Crash
Kurt Cobain
Everybody wnats another reason to cry
everybody wants another product to buy

I bought the first Nirvana album
the summer before I flunked
out of high school
Nirvana's "Bleach"
Mudhoney's "Superfuzzbigmuff"
and the Screaming Trees' "Invisible Lantern"
were my holuy trinity
as I sweated through that summer
learning to play guitar
learning to drink coffee
learning to stage dive at the OK Hotel

everybody wants another reason to cry
everybody wants another product to buy

I bought Nirvana's second album
the summer after I flunked out of high school
working for my parents
writing songs in my head
when the batteries in my walkman
had gone dead

we had a band, Scott, Josh, & I
and the first time we played
for anyone but ourselves
was for 5 mormon girls dressed
in plaid skirts and Doc Martens.
we played like shit
I broke a string
but the mormon girls loved us
and that night our band
slogan was born:
"Big Clear Nothing -- 4 out of 5
mormon girls think we sound
like Nirvana
(The 5th one's never heard Nirvana)"

it's kind of disturbing how so
many of my memories hinge
around some form of entertainment

I don't feel very entertained
just now

When I first met tho womanI'm going to marry
we went to Scott's house
and wathced his tape
of Nirvana's first Saturday Night
Live appearance
She didn't like the way they
smashed their guitars
"Why can't they just give
them away to poor musicians
who can't afford guitars
of their own?"
I just liked the sound it made-
like a plane crash
like angels fucking
like a shotgun blast

Kurt Cobain
did you hesitate
with you finger on the trigger?
did you think it was too late?
that your death would be
like your life -- packaged,
shrink-wrapped, displayed on
a shelf at the mall
for some kid to waste his allowance on

did you imagine your MTV
disciples with golden shotguns
around their necks?
I hope you didn't care
God I hope you didn't care

On a Metro bus at 5:30
Friday afternoon
I heard 2 construction
workers talking
"Hey, didja hear about
that rock-star Kurt Cobain
killing homself?"
"Yeah, that's really something."

Cruel as it sounds I'm glad
you died, before you became
this generation's Elvis.
I just hope it's not too late.

everybody wants another reason to cry
everybody wants another product to buy