Cradle-nook

I grew up a bit on my own, wild, to figure out my own means.
not the best way to conjure up confidence,
but strangely enough to hybrid morph myself into what I am.


the first time I felt like  I fit in was with Punk rock,
It felt good, to be myself, and be part of some sorta amoeba substances of
a group where you made up the rules for yourself, and fit in cause I believed I belonged.

This long ago time, was way before mass instant communication,  I'm an old dude bald bloke.
you'd have to write a letter
or dial a phone,
pick up a fanzine,
or trust the gruff clerk at the record store or see a flyer stapled to a telly-pole, and risk if I'd dole out 2-5$ a very limited valuable expenditure  to see a band.  I jone'sd to see good new bands.

somewhere sometime someone said we, all,  drank from the same river
that what was going down in Columbus ohio, was down in a basement of a church in Iowa
rocking it. or a remote cradle-nook of some town of, constants spelled no vowels, in Wales.

That pure thread, which I defined for myself, by what I learn from those I respect.
was bad ass,
totally freedom, and joy,  I felt a  responsibility to it.

that Fjord
spirit, I enjoy
is racing Cross
Today I got to help a bit with a clinic,
learned a bit, listened a lot, and hopefully,
stoked some new souls.

and don't take for granted
the split second that the scream of fear, turns to a laugh of joy
bombing all most outta control down a hill.

Drink deep and often!
dlowe