Fading Memories - Punk (writing prompt 4/9/26)

We are slowly losing the memories of what it meant to be punk.

It didn't mean, I don't care, I give up, it meant I care a lot and I'll stand up. It meant I'll fight because there's stuff worth fighting for. It meant anti-racism, anti-sexism, anti-nazi, pretty much an all encompassing, 'fck your greed and your hate'.

We stood up for the weak, the geeks, the freaks.

It wasn't a fashion statement, it was, I'll look how I feel because screw societal norms.

It meant, maybe you SHOULD be afraid of me, if you're a bully and a jerk.

It meant freedom through music, art and attitude.

I rarely see any other punks anymore, but I think it's something us old heads hold inside now.

And every time I meet someone who is willing to stand up against what's messed up, I think that's punk.

Maybe we call it something different now.

Maybe it's in some people to not just CARE but to DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT.

That's punk.

And even though the memories of those times are fading, punk never dies.

I got my first detention in sixth grade for drawing an anarchy symbol on the chalkboard. I'll never forget my teacher telling me I didn't know what it meant, but I'll never forget what it means to believe in better for EVERYONE, not just me me me.


🖤