Frank's Depression Poetry
Frank's Depression Poetry was a series of punk poetry zines created by Frank Hobbs in the early 1990s. Frank's Depression Poetry was life viewed from the bottom of American existence, but it was pretty funny and even heart warming on occasion. His poetry resounded with the experience of most hard-up American punks during that period of time. Frank made up for writing a poetry zine by being one of the craziest punk rockers out there. Frank was originally from Portland, Maine, but ended up living in San Francisco and then Oakland, California. He died in New York City.
Frank Hobbs (a/k/a Frank's Depression) died on St. Marks Place in the early morning hours of August 21, 1996, under circumstances his friends still think were criminal. After a fight with a bouncer, he apparently walked down the block and collapsed in a doorway. He was DOA at Cabrini, where doctors diagnosed a cardiac arrest.
"I have great memories of hanging out with Frank on Haight St. & Telegraph Ave in 1994 and 1995. He would show up at Masked Men gigs with his skinhead buddy Gabe, they were a hilarious duo." ~Sean "Goblin" Aaberg
One of Frank's poems appeared in Absolutely Zippo.
Here is one of Frank's poems.
200 Years Ago
200 years ago If you were a beautiful Indian with large breasts visiting my tepee, I would politely nod "Hello" and remove a small burlap bag containing crack cocaine from beneath a black rug. 200 years ago if you were to smile and place crack onto a hollow chicken bone I would stare at a bow and arrow next to my filthy feet, pretending not to notice your eyes watering, face changing colors, nude body stiff and tense struggling to maintain the smoke in your lungs. 200 years ago if you were to hold my hand and whisper you're going to reincarnate until you invent a telephone and shit on the moon. I would have believed the crack you inhaled shot, stabbed and torched your soul. The modern world now has telephones and humans have managed to squat on the moon leaving a trail of used toilet paper. It's strange we don't know one another and yet I sense we shared crack in a tepee 200 years ago