Pete Shelly’s voice (RIP) was the sound out there… on vinyl and first shows at the Santa Monica Civic. The Germs , Darby, was on the punk streets. By a strange tweak they come together now so many years later. They don’t seem like they want us to forget them…. and how can we.
In Memory of Darby Crash Issue
Seeing the Buzzcocks live at the Santa Monica Civic around 1979 was truly amazing. Another Music in a Different Kitchen (1978), Love Bites (1978), and A Different Kind of Tension always were in the air so seeing them live was so exciting. The Spiral Scratch (EP) was a favorite of mine. The lyrics of Break Down are phenomenal and so infused in my DNA. Maybe a whole generation in their early 60s are experiencing melancholy right now!!
RIP Pete
When falling into. and mad about- the world of Punk Rock, Pete Shelly’s voice framed this new experience with innovative songs and lyrics. “Ever Fallen In Love….” is one of the songs that I fell in love with. I fell in love with the Los Angeles Punk Scene at the same time as the first time I heard the song. The people, places and record stores everywhere did loudly play the Buzzcocks beyond our fast thrashing hearts. You would find us running from the Whisky A Go Go on the Sunset Strip to the infamous record store smelling of vinyl Licorice Pizza and then down to the alley for cut-rate canned beer. Three points of forward movement forming a hurricane of friends, music and pogoing. Pete’s voice and music are the fresh anthem of a growing punk scene. Pete Shelley’s voice and guitar set the stage for a sensitive and poetic revolution of mindset not inspired by many bands to this day. He is always saturated English angelic youth gone wild. Pete Shelly’s voice never grows older though his body did age and die. His music will be at that place where the new-wave-punk-rock-experience is eternal. Unclassified music that is wonderfully bliss! Drunk in our blood of a generation.
“Oh mum can I grow out of what’s too big for me?
I’ll give up that ghost before it gives up me
I wander loaded as a crowd, a nowhere wolf of pain
Living next to nothing, my nevermind remains
I’m gonna breakdown, I’m gonna breakdown yes
I’m gonna breakdown, I’m gonna breakdown yes”
Jupiter’s eyes razor red Round and doll like As death’s face Terrifying Changing into Lapis Lazuli Stone chairs Flying through kindness. Riding on a white prancing horse Ascending and descending Saturn, Venus and Jupiter. Will you come Come to see me My prancing horse awaits. The earth looks blue from afar The waterfall moves Upon ice and steam To a new view We go Affirming to me “Do not be afraid.” Eyes sparkle Through the darkness healing me. The white horse is parading In front of your house Back and forth, back and forth. Under the three bright planets I Jupiter in the sky with Venus Saturn welcomes us all to his Palace. 11/23/2019 Holly Cornell
Your Wildest Dreams The Moody Blues – Yahoo Search Results
To U.S. Representative for California’s 28th congressional district Adam Schiff
I see an illuminated bright five pointed star Over the emotional ocean Of black and greasy-greedy oil The light moving upon this darkness Wavering leaps of sparkling exuberance. This star ascends as the current below moves like the waves of a darkened Depressed ocean. Shall we focus on the star For the exuberance is like A cleaning soap A detergent affirming justice The Eagle is scrubbed clean. I see an illuminated bright five pointed star I hear the waves of the ocean Calling to break the Eagle clean. Returns the rhythm to the rogue waves I see justice there hearts are buoyant Upon that black and greasy-greedy oil awareness and mindfulness The Eagle is scrubbed clean!
Posted in Holly Duval Cornell's Poems & Prose
Tagged current-events, Goddess and Home, poem, poetry, politics, postaday
Jerusalem ~William Blake
My heavenly shower is a sacred place of hot, warm or cold water. It is there for me in worst of times bones ache and chills of fever cleaning a dark soul quality away. I sing, talk and compose there I talk to my medicine animals there and say my prayers. It is an old shower with a whacked head yet the water cleans me inside and out my holy shower that sings me sweet words.
Posted in Holly Duval Cornell's Poems & Prose
Tagged Depth Psychology, poetry, postaday, William Blake, Women
A reading from my novella To Ride A Painted Pony Wild
Chapter 3. Headless Horseman Road
Spit Face Girl By Hudley Flipside
At 5AM the alarm went off. Not that sleep was possible at this camp. Whispers crying and bolts of laughter were a constant noise here. Breakfast was served in the big house. Dark wooden tables and chairs lined up two hundred youthful assumed rebels in a large cafeteria. Any light in the room did not help take away from the declaration of order and obedience.
The cool chair-wood felt good against her skin. At first this 13 year old rather small girl let the bullies take her gruel! A pat of butter and a quarter cup of cream is all these youths got.
One day she suddenly grew wise for now as soon as she sat down she quickly put her butter in her mouth.Then she slowly sucked the rich fat around her mouth before she spat it back into her cream dish. She did this as her eyes scanned and confronted any bullies around her.
Drip drip as the fat warden looked away. Then this milky fat, now a delicious homogeneous cream butter, topped her gruel. She mixed it up with her spoon and then ate it down. None of the other hungry girls took her food again.
The first time she got food wise a bully smiled starry at her whispering, as the heavens above, in her ear,
“So…I guess we’ll call you … spit face.”
Please if you take anything from this site please tag hudleyflipside.com as the source of this material. NOTICE this is all copyright material Hudley Flipside (aka Hud) and Hudley Mantis…. most importantly ‘Hudley’ is the pen name and pseudonym created by (me) Holly Duval Cornell.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
