Top 5 L.A. Punk Albums of 2011

hate to break it to you but nobody listens to a 60 year old burn out.....

It's 60 years old - ass wipe. And I know punk for what it was, when it was, and I was playing with all the original punk bands here in LA.

And I know exactly what it represented before children like yourself decided to mine it as a fake lifestyle to get a record deal. POSUER.

I was building this online stuff in 1995. So bring it - toad.

your just full of hate ***NOT PUNK dude~!!! ....lets hear ur new music bro!!!! WHAT IS YOUR NEW  ALL STAR BAND CALLED? please enlighten us all

Permafrost (Secondhand Daylight) - Magazinehttp://www.youtube.com...

The cinematic musicality to come.ASMZ - 13 Angels Standing Guard 'Round the Side of Your Bed http://www.youtube.com/watch?v...

Punk - only in memories

William Butler Yeats

Among School Children

I I walk through the long schoolroom questioning;

A kind old nun in a white hood replies;

The children learn to cipher and to sing,

To study reading-books and histories,

To cut and sew, be neat in everything

In the best modern way - the children's eyes

In momentary wonder stare upon

A sixty-year-old smiling public man.III dream of a Ledaean body, bent

Above a sinking fire. a tale that she

Told of a harsh reproof, or trivial event

That changed some childish day to tragedy -

Told, and it seemed that our two natures blent

Into a sphere from youthful sympathy,

Or else, to alter Plato's parable,

Into the yolk and white of the one shell.IIIAnd thinking of that fit of grief or rage

I look upon one child or t'other there

And wonder if she stood so at that age -

For even daughters of the swan can share

Something of every paddler's heritage -

And had that colour upon cheek or hair,

And thereupon my heart is driven wild:

She stands before me as a living child.IVHer present image floats into the mind -

Did Quattrocento finger fashion it

Hollow of cheek as though it drank the wind

And took a mess of shadows for its meat?

And I though never of Ledaean kind

Had pretty plumage once - enough of that,

Better to smile on all that smile, and show

There is a comfortable kind of old scarecrow.VWhat youthful mother, a shape upon her lap

Honey of generation had betrayed,

And that must sleep, shriek, struggle to escape

As recollection or the drug decide,

Would think her Son, did she but see that shape

With sixty or more winters on its head,

A compensation for the pang of his birth,

Or the uncertainty of his setting forth?VIPlato thought nature but a spume that plays

Upon a ghostly paradigm of things;

Solider Aristotle played the taws

Upon the bottom of a king of kings;

World-famous golden-thighed Pythagoras

Fingered upon a fiddle-stick or strings

What a star sang and careless Muses heard:

Old clothes upon old sticks to scare a bird.VIIBoth nuns and mothers worship images,

But those the candles light are not as those

That animate a mother's reveries,

But keep a marble or a bronze repose.

And yet they too break hearts - O Presences

That passion, piety or affection knows,

And that all heavenly glory symbolise -

O self-born mockers of man's enterprise;VIIILabour is blossoming or dancing whereThe body is not bruised to pleasure soul.Nor beauty born out of its own despair,Nor blear-eyed wisdom out of midnight oil.O chestnut-tree, great-rooted blossomer,Are you the leaf, the blossom or the bole?O body swayed to music, O brightening glance,How can we know the dancer from the dance?