Poems by David S. Pointer

Nashville Punk Scene

Decades & dues before Hank III
cometh with his ther­mo-chem­i­cal
cow punk, Jason & the Scorchers
rolled onto Rock City like a bar­rel
keg cool­er bran­dish­ing neon notes
to Nashville’s con­ser­v­a­tive music
estab­lish­ment stomp­ing Punk’s
Lib­er­ty Bell hell into the plas­tered
beer torn psyche’s of unfu­tur­is­tic
fans who would trans­form the
audi­ence of bat­tle­ground cow­boys
into plum tart glad­i­a­tors and the
rest of the good timin’ globe going
for­ward with ear­ly colony cock­tails
and the best new nuclear chem­istry
a hot cock­tail wait­ress could car­ry

 

Off The Farm

The com­put­er
became the glob­al
moneychanger’s
milk­ing stool, but
grand­pa still
trans­port­ed his
customer’s ear­ly
colony cock­tails
down moss
moun­tain in a
'47 Stude­bak­er
pick­up on a
stretch of dark-
prim­i­tive dirt,
a fire­place tool,
and a .45 rid­ing
bitch and shot­gun

 

David S. Point­er cur­rent­ly lives in Murfrees­boro, TN. He has a chap­book forth­com­ing from Writ­ing Knights Press enti­tled MPs, Snipers and Crime. Grow­ing up, David was the son of a piano-play­ing bank rob­ber who died when David was 3 years old. David lat­er served in the Marine mil­i­tary police.

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