She’s A Rock Star
You might cross her
On the sidewalk
Sipping iced coffee
Got a guitar
You think you know her
She looks familiar
Tall and long, blonde and strong
And wild eyes
She’s in her own world
With her head down
And her shades of cool
All the other girls would be just like her
If they could
She’s got a boyfriend and some girlfriends
But she’s alone in this world
Walks like a killer leaves the scene of a crime
Can’t tell if inside she is laughing or crying
She drinks and smokes as if her looks will never fade
And if they did she wouldn’t care anyway
She’s seen the city that she loves decay
A shining artifact of better days
You think you know her
She looks familiar
Tall and long, blonde and strong
And wild eyes
Hipsters (And Why I Hate Them)
You’d think every one of them was a Michelangelo by the way they grinned.
I want to climb inside their bodies and drive a steak knife through the bridge of their eyeglasses
And glue them by their beards to a tacky mural
And stick their earphones through their eardrums
And cram one hundred of them inside an adult video arcade and
Gas them to the sound of a black chick taking it up the pooper.
I want to bomb the next Mumford and Sons concert
And put fishnet stockings on every hipster guy
And a beard on every hipster chick
Because in my mind that’s how I see them.
I want to drop absinthe into their eyes and see what happens,
Shit – I want to drop absinthe into MY eyes and see what happens.
But most of all, I want the ultimate revenge –
I want to fuck their mothers.
Die Yuppie Scum
What are all these strollers doing on the street?
Why is there a puppy pissing on my feet?
What are these beautiful chicks doing with dog shit in their hands?
Why the yuppie scum allowed to live here in our land?
I don’t know why ya’ll talk so loud, its makes it hard to think
I wish you’d shut your fucking trap and let me drink my drink in peace
If I see you when you’re jogging, I’m gonna trip you everytime
Your iPhone won’t save you, it’s yuppie killing time
I do this not for you or me, but for the children of this world
So that they may live in a land that’s free of yuppie scummy germs
Just think of what a better place, your author will make for us
And thank him, not through love and praise, for your donations, are enough
Die yuppie scum, Die, die, die.
Girls
There was that one from the bar with the hair on her right nipple who I only saw that once.
There was the one I worked with who I never got very far with, and who was so Brooklyn.
There was the one from college who only wanted to dry hump. The other one from college who wanted to date me and I only wanted to fuck. And then the one who I wanted to date and she only wanted to fuck.
There was the one I lost my virginity to. That was nice of her. My runaround Sue.
There was that older woman who had a boyfriend and lived around the corner from the bar.
There was that one I finger fucked on the pullout futon of my friend's living room.
There was that one I fucked in her van and had to pretend to cum so that we could stop.
There was that one who used me to get back at her ex.
There was the speedfreak. The dope head. The private little red haired pothead.
The soccer player. The librarian. The Mexican waitress with a kid.
Lots of ones named 'Kelly' for whatever reason.
The daughter of the rich Texan with rich person's insecurities.
The one I loved then hated. The one who was completely shaven.
The one who couldn't open up without cocaine.
There was that one who was so drunk she couldn't possibly remember a thing.
There was that one who kept insisting on buttplay despite my each and every objection.
There was that beauty at nineteen who had lost it by twenty-one.
There was my boss with the overfed cat.
There was the go go dancer with the worst case of white person's rhythm.
There was the country bumpkin with a great figure.
There was the gorgeous teenager who I never want to know how old she really was.
Et cetera…
Untitled
Love
Has a
Lifespan
And
It isn’t
Very
Long
Austin Brookner was born in New York City and raised in their bars. He is a singer-songwriter, composer and pianist. As a musician he performs under the name Austin Thomas. Austin has worked with guitarists Lenny Kaye (Patti Smith Group) and Marc Ribot (Tom Waits), bassist Tony Garnier (Bob Dylan), and producer JD Foster (Marc Ribot, T-Bone Burnett). He’s also co-written songs with ac-claimed American author Nick Tosches. Austin currently lives in his namesake city of Austin, Texas.
Photo by Andrew Worley