Vehicles and oblivious pedestrians are a potential enemy.
Texting and riding is treason.
When you’re out you scan for new spots.
It’s not some toy, it can be how you get around as much as an outlet.
It leads to injury and adventure.
You’ve learned some creative first aid.
You may by about tech and trick and I may be speed in style, but we’re in it together.
Security guards who don’t get it are a drag.
Those who do are our enablers.
You don’t “grow out of it” if you’re real.
If you ever age out you’ll still smile when you see your old setup.
You know surgery is an eventuality.
You take the injuries willingly for the sake of getting gnarly.
Rainy days turn into a risk assessment.
You have a love/ hate relationship with summer.
This was probably the basis for learning how to use tools.
You have a keen insight on packing for day trips.
THIS is skateboarding.
It’s the ride of your life if you just start pushing.
– C Fish
Why do you cunts hate my boots?
Boots define a lifestyle called punk rock.
Boots speak of a laboring soul who’s tired as fuck.
My boots show up to win all my fights.
My boots are present under these city nights.
An English Anarchist once said in a song.
The boots I wear have never been wrong.
Why not wear boots like us everyday.
Kick the bootless fascist with much to say.
These boots are not made for just walking.
Sometimes I wear my boots while I’m fucking.
Wear boots and live with every ones hate.
I’ll be wearing my boots at the pearly gate.
Fuck your Local 209 and fuck your crew.
This boot poem I wrote is just for all of you.
You will be seeing faceless people in one of my new ZINES “Stool Sample” early 2014…
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