By Brad Riesau
The Allen Poems
POEMS DEDICATED TO ALLEN GINSBERG AND THE BEATS
Halo
Gregory & Son, City Lights, 1978
Regenerate
Meeting Allen
Beat Beats
Barefoot Tidepool
Nightmare
Whom Love
Bomb Threat
Triple Feature
Special thanks to Robert Hunter for his lifetime of inspiration and encouragement. who first published HALO in his online archives at http://www.hunterarchive/files/Poetry/Halo.html
Thanks to Bill & Anita Thompson, Gary Soto, Chris Jung, Donald Risty, Gale Leach, Karl Keller, Dennis McNally, Nicky Galasso
Originally self-published in a limited edition in 2004. The poems listed above are (c) 1997-2004 Brad Riesau. They have been previously published in Brad's blog at myspace.com/v32unes.
The individual 10 poems indexed above form the collection MEET THE BEATS. You can read individual poems by clicking on the titles above or in the archive sidebar at right.
Showing posts with label Meet The Beats. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Meet The Beats. Show all posts
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Halo
For Allen Ginsberg 1926-1997
darkness
silences the racing mind
darkness
races the silenced mind
darkness
erases the mindless silence
Allen
visionary hard-sell salesman
pumping life into a generation
half dozen beat souls
outlaw spirit quest for belief
amidst
Eisenhower optimism tinted red with nuclear fear
pistol-tongue protest whiplash smile
adamant protective absorbency
of all
that was in need of exposure
exposure
ex-poseur
procured expulsion from American life set boredom
dreamchase
mind peeling candor
Take it
any way
take it, it is yours
it is your hard-earned right.
your right as breathing cell bag
your right as moving bone sack
your right as discerning human torch
as compassionate disillusionment of all that is dreamt
your right as festering, jubiliant earth walker
you're right
as brilliant hopeful realist
incendiary, pessimistic humanist
pharmacological test case miracle baby
as exploding head intellect
drawn from madness
familial sanitarium nightmare cushion,
drawn from edge to filigree edge
booklets filled with archival scrawl
(to someday buy you this waking Heaven in which to die)
redemptive sun thru plate-glass
unlike Moloch-peeping headcase 1948 Blakeian visionscape
fire escape
jerk-off window;
dissimilar to minuscule shuttering doors of perception
shut-eye puking yage tornado vision.
Your legacy:
unflinching, stalwart dedicated memory.
drawn from jazz drench Denver, smoke and Benzedrine clench
'46 Greyhound to New York City
100 mph down streets of callow legs to iron flesh
spirit muse
night embrace life embrace.....
drawn from myriad bound pages
reflecting off ever-present eyeglass frailty.....
Paterson dim night oppressive beauty-madness
red breakdown.
Soaked in inventive creation through fleshy eyeball circuitry:
volumes, sheaths of paper, forests of tree-death magnificence
The Written Page.
words.....sounds to thought to pen to paper to eyeglass eye
brain thought mouth ears
of millions.
touch his hand he lies still
touch his heart he howls always
touch his life burns fingertips infinitely.
ii.
As a young man I found his life overwhelming
a life lived in epic proportions
told with a fierce intelligence that shamed me of my trivial learning
told with a lion-hearted courage and fearlessness that cast the deepest of
shadows
told with a sweetness of perversity that fondled my own tortured simple-
minded lust
allowing freedom to be a grail of the holiest nature
told with an ease of humor and self-deprecating serious snicker
allowing my humanity to become bearable and graceful in its infancy.
iii.
Today, I circle the rose
He rose from his circle
devilish, bearded cherubim
without whom
worship muse
delicate abandon
without whom.....
were it not for your seduction of language
your explosion of promotion of rebellious like-minds
vast, loyal dedication to the proliferation of free
free the shackled chains of your cronies' lost sentences
free butcher-paper novelization spiel
free dream cinema blown-up close-up rise-up screaming portraits
of your small circle of friends, lovers, muse
friends
begat legend (in your minds) erased dungeons (in our minds)
begat
beat ghat
beat at bows of rebellious arbor, bows of religious ardor
begat dylan bohemian pot hip nudist hippie peace-nik mantra punk
anti-
anything but hope
appetite
craving on
ion.
may dictation serve the hopeless
May Day station swerve the blindness
meditation curve the sublimeless.
smoke clears Hoffman of all charges
charges fire
flower-petal war gag
Nations burn, Nixon free
gag chokes national hypnosis.....split-second glimmer:
hope
rings infernal
still
hope rings.
(causes, he pauses
help a man cut his losses)
iv.
infinite honesty.
infinite wisdom.
infinite jism.
infinite space in one's skull
fill the chasm
relentless search for the "more"-gasm.....
man's search for the better broomstick
bottomless cup of joe
the better slogan, the faster dupe, the cleaner whistle
the tastier morsel, the harder cock, the bigger payoff,
the catchier chorus, deeper commitment, more convincing lie,
the truer-ism.
man's search of what's left, what is right
to "accept madness, approve unconvention."
reflections bounce off sparkling moments. clicks of the stopwatch.
breaths in an ear. tears on a casket.
birth of morning.
words on paper, words in souls, memory.
balance.
the grand attraction of the breaking of rules.
If "Butler has no balls" then who ousted who?
Dirty windows signal breakthrough
letting "imagination go.....
open secrecy.....
scribble(d) magic lines from real mind"
Herbert's heisted hoodlum magic
Bull Lee, Solomon, Gregory yammer
Times Square cafeteria showdown
Levinsky, Stofsky, Alvah Goldbook,
Carlo lambastes Pokerino
Jean Louis staggers
Chianti glare his eye.
Six @ Six
"when poetry went public"
espousing the literature of risk
the widening circle of kicks
kicks
kickstart the heart of spoken expression
kickstart the soul of a slumbering nation
kicksmart the whole of a head's constant repression
kicks
kicks
kicks.
v.
in a small town in Pennsylvania a patriot, leader of men
buyer/seller of the American Dream
draws record crowds to the Moreland Funeral Home
Pledge of Allegiance, National Anthem, Boy Scout Oath, Taps.
This screwball loved by all
disciplinarian, humble good-deeder
His ashes last wished into an over-sized Pepsi can
and buried on his father's chest.
two days later
"legendary poet Allen Ginsberg died
among friends at home in New York City....."
diagnosis gives in to coma gives in to breathless peace
gives in to bones
dust
time
again, memory.
"and you die when you die.....OMMMMMM....."
Those poor Heaven's Gate folks were mistaken
too late to unpack their bags
redeem their Nike receipts
return their movie advance.....
this comet comes for the sentient soul of a curly black halo.
~ April 5-6, 1997
darkness
silences the racing mind
darkness
races the silenced mind
darkness
erases the mindless silence
Allen
visionary hard-sell salesman
pumping life into a generation
half dozen beat souls
outlaw spirit quest for belief
amidst
Eisenhower optimism tinted red with nuclear fear
pistol-tongue protest whiplash smile
adamant protective absorbency
of all
that was in need of exposure
exposure
ex-poseur
procured expulsion from American life set boredom
dreamchase
mind peeling candor
Take it
any way
take it, it is yours
it is your hard-earned right.
your right as breathing cell bag
your right as moving bone sack
your right as discerning human torch
as compassionate disillusionment of all that is dreamt
your right as festering, jubiliant earth walker
you're right
as brilliant hopeful realist
incendiary, pessimistic humanist
pharmacological test case miracle baby
as exploding head intellect
drawn from madness
familial sanitarium nightmare cushion,
drawn from edge to filigree edge
booklets filled with archival scrawl
(to someday buy you this waking Heaven in which to die)
redemptive sun thru plate-glass
unlike Moloch-peeping headcase 1948 Blakeian visionscape
fire escape
jerk-off window;
dissimilar to minuscule shuttering doors of perception
shut-eye puking yage tornado vision.
Your legacy:
unflinching, stalwart dedicated memory.
drawn from jazz drench Denver, smoke and Benzedrine clench
'46 Greyhound to New York City
100 mph down streets of callow legs to iron flesh
spirit muse
night embrace life embrace.....
drawn from myriad bound pages
reflecting off ever-present eyeglass frailty.....
Paterson dim night oppressive beauty-madness
red breakdown.
Soaked in inventive creation through fleshy eyeball circuitry:
volumes, sheaths of paper, forests of tree-death magnificence
The Written Page.
words.....sounds to thought to pen to paper to eyeglass eye
brain thought mouth ears
of millions.
touch his hand he lies still
touch his heart he howls always
touch his life burns fingertips infinitely.
ii.
As a young man I found his life overwhelming
a life lived in epic proportions
told with a fierce intelligence that shamed me of my trivial learning
told with a lion-hearted courage and fearlessness that cast the deepest of
shadows
told with a sweetness of perversity that fondled my own tortured simple-
minded lust
allowing freedom to be a grail of the holiest nature
told with an ease of humor and self-deprecating serious snicker
allowing my humanity to become bearable and graceful in its infancy.
iii.
Today, I circle the rose
He rose from his circle
devilish, bearded cherubim
without whom
worship muse
delicate abandon
without whom.....
were it not for your seduction of language
your explosion of promotion of rebellious like-minds
vast, loyal dedication to the proliferation of free
free the shackled chains of your cronies' lost sentences
free butcher-paper novelization spiel
free dream cinema blown-up close-up rise-up screaming portraits
of your small circle of friends, lovers, muse
friends
begat legend (in your minds) erased dungeons (in our minds)
begat
beat ghat
beat at bows of rebellious arbor, bows of religious ardor
begat dylan bohemian pot hip nudist hippie peace-nik mantra punk
anti-
anything but hope
appetite
craving on
ion.
may dictation serve the hopeless
May Day station swerve the blindness
meditation curve the sublimeless.
smoke clears Hoffman of all charges
charges fire
flower-petal war gag
Nations burn, Nixon free
gag chokes national hypnosis.....split-second glimmer:
hope
rings infernal
still
hope rings.
(causes, he pauses
help a man cut his losses)
iv.
infinite honesty.
infinite wisdom.
infinite jism.
infinite space in one's skull
fill the chasm
relentless search for the "more"-gasm.....
man's search for the better broomstick
bottomless cup of joe
the better slogan, the faster dupe, the cleaner whistle
the tastier morsel, the harder cock, the bigger payoff,
the catchier chorus, deeper commitment, more convincing lie,
the truer-ism.
man's search of what's left, what is right
to "accept madness, approve unconvention."
reflections bounce off sparkling moments. clicks of the stopwatch.
breaths in an ear. tears on a casket.
birth of morning.
words on paper, words in souls, memory.
balance.
the grand attraction of the breaking of rules.
If "Butler has no balls" then who ousted who?
Dirty windows signal breakthrough
letting "imagination go.....
open secrecy.....
scribble(d) magic lines from real mind"
Herbert's heisted hoodlum magic
Bull Lee, Solomon, Gregory yammer
Times Square cafeteria showdown
Levinsky, Stofsky, Alvah Goldbook,
Carlo lambastes Pokerino
Jean Louis staggers
Chianti glare his eye.
Six @ Six
"when poetry went public"
espousing the literature of risk
the widening circle of kicks
kicks
kickstart the heart of spoken expression
kickstart the soul of a slumbering nation
kicksmart the whole of a head's constant repression
kicks
kicks
kicks.
v.
in a small town in Pennsylvania a patriot, leader of men
buyer/seller of the American Dream
draws record crowds to the Moreland Funeral Home
Pledge of Allegiance, National Anthem, Boy Scout Oath, Taps.
This screwball loved by all
disciplinarian, humble good-deeder
His ashes last wished into an over-sized Pepsi can
and buried on his father's chest.
two days later
"legendary poet Allen Ginsberg died
among friends at home in New York City....."
diagnosis gives in to coma gives in to breathless peace
gives in to bones
dust
time
again, memory.
"and you die when you die.....OMMMMMM....."
Those poor Heaven's Gate folks were mistaken
too late to unpack their bags
redeem their Nike receipts
return their movie advance.....
this comet comes for the sentient soul of a curly black halo.
~ April 5-6, 1997
Gregory & Son, City Lights 1978
Staggering
clown-like
exaggerated doom walk
thru aisle of paperbacks
Beat up racks of verbiage and criticism
Poetic liquid generational ramble.
He crawled in upright,
towhead blond boy,
dirty faced,
on his shoulders.
Kid’s hands full of his greasy, grey streaked
fright wig mussed up head o’ hair
in tiny filthy fists
holding on for the ride
wide smile
dreamy.
“Hey LAAAAARRRRRY…
You know why I’m here...”
Patrons turn to stare eyes squinting in question
Wondering, “Who is this madman?”
Those in close, precarious proximity
keep faces buried in books
pretend to not notice
try not to provoke.
“LAAARRRRRRY, I know you’re UP there…”
Careening past oversize, trade bound books
on tables, on make-shift easels
Swallowing the Eastern Philosophy aisle whole
with one grand swoop
he throws his right arm to the ceiling
pointing
“LARRY. Come down from there. I’m coming up. LAAARRY.
Come on, man. You can’t fool me. We all can feel you, man...
NOW!” demanding.
“You need to hear me out…
NOW LARRY.”
Rising
a pink, bald sun over the edge of balcony rail
the voice precedes the forehead momentarily
followed by the peaceful eyes
staring right at the spot below from whence the cries come
“Come back later, Gregory
I’m busy.”
“Don’t Larry. You’re fuckin’ with me…”
“Bye Gregory. I’ll see you later.”
With that he was gone
but for the smell
of gasoline.
I ask the clerk, who has rung up infamously scandalous
beautifully inappropriate, disproportionately controversial
abundantly righteous literary fodder at this very counter for years,
“Was that who I think it was?”
“For the time being,” he whispered.
- for Pauli & Katie
and Gregory Corso (1930-2001)
clown-like
exaggerated doom walk
thru aisle of paperbacks
Beat up racks of verbiage and criticism
Poetic liquid generational ramble.
He crawled in upright,
towhead blond boy,
dirty faced,
on his shoulders.
Kid’s hands full of his greasy, grey streaked
fright wig mussed up head o’ hair
in tiny filthy fists
holding on for the ride
wide smile
dreamy.
“Hey LAAAAARRRRRY…
You know why I’m here...”
Patrons turn to stare eyes squinting in question
Wondering, “Who is this madman?”
Those in close, precarious proximity
keep faces buried in books
pretend to not notice
try not to provoke.
“LAAARRRRRRY, I know you’re UP there…”
Careening past oversize, trade bound books
on tables, on make-shift easels
Swallowing the Eastern Philosophy aisle whole
with one grand swoop
he throws his right arm to the ceiling
pointing
“LARRY. Come down from there. I’m coming up. LAAARRY.
Come on, man. You can’t fool me. We all can feel you, man...
NOW!” demanding.
“You need to hear me out…
NOW LARRY.”
Rising
a pink, bald sun over the edge of balcony rail
the voice precedes the forehead momentarily
followed by the peaceful eyes
staring right at the spot below from whence the cries come
“Come back later, Gregory
I’m busy.”
“Don’t Larry. You’re fuckin’ with me…”
“Bye Gregory. I’ll see you later.”
With that he was gone
but for the smell
of gasoline.
I ask the clerk, who has rung up infamously scandalous
beautifully inappropriate, disproportionately controversial
abundantly righteous literary fodder at this very counter for years,
“Was that who I think it was?”
“For the time being,” he whispered.
- for Pauli & Katie
and Gregory Corso (1930-2001)
Regenerate
“Our poet” --
claim him for us
For our misaligned, misunderstood, miserable and beautifully hopeful
picture-postcard-moment-in time generation
For our off-kilter memory of eyes
mirroring heat stroke desperation for more.
He’s ours
Infinite sensation of vision
never again ring so true
a fragmented snapshot
in death
like all great art
(a spontaneous smile)
reflect something past and gone
tint memory, readjust history,
resonant in its moment of creation.
Our poet sings
last poet of the 20th Century
last hurrah, love drenched farewell
last shot, near-empty clip
last bloody insurrection of tender yearning
his words float over nostalgic crowd,
smoke haze
up concrete steps through ears
directly into aging heart.
Capillaries flex, adrenaline rush, instant recall
memory to myth
front lawn tears, bottom lip seduction, raised on elbows of night’s shadow
under darkened night light floorboard glow
huddled over book of words.
Look of swords
sung to you
as teacher to open-eared student
as lover to open-pored possibility sponge
as singer to song
you sing along
unafraid to expose your unknown voice,
voice of showers
voice of long car ride solitude
early morning greet-the-day
late night prayer.
Your voice saved for me at that instant
which in another of its masks
teaches frailty of words
language as naïve, manipulative tool
language weapon
words as healing talisman of illusion
daily poesy, dream grasp fulfillment
balm cures woes
the wind up and the pitch.
Catch them on the air this night
Catch them, hold them inside tight
entwined, all dusty ancient words
shared history
pull essence from their outward form
peel the me from the it,
for the you
unwrap the purity, surround heart with intention.
Catch my words through his.
On the air
This night
gather your memories and stir.
claim him for us
For our misaligned, misunderstood, miserable and beautifully hopeful
picture-postcard-moment-in time generation
For our off-kilter memory of eyes
mirroring heat stroke desperation for more.
He’s ours
Infinite sensation of vision
never again ring so true
a fragmented snapshot
in death
like all great art
(a spontaneous smile)
reflect something past and gone
tint memory, readjust history,
resonant in its moment of creation.
Our poet sings
last poet of the 20th Century
last hurrah, love drenched farewell
last shot, near-empty clip
last bloody insurrection of tender yearning
his words float over nostalgic crowd,
smoke haze
up concrete steps through ears
directly into aging heart.
Capillaries flex, adrenaline rush, instant recall
memory to myth
front lawn tears, bottom lip seduction, raised on elbows of night’s shadow
under darkened night light floorboard glow
huddled over book of words.
Look of swords
sung to you
as teacher to open-eared student
as lover to open-pored possibility sponge
as singer to song
you sing along
unafraid to expose your unknown voice,
voice of showers
voice of long car ride solitude
early morning greet-the-day
late night prayer.
Your voice saved for me at that instant
which in another of its masks
teaches frailty of words
language as naïve, manipulative tool
language weapon
words as healing talisman of illusion
daily poesy, dream grasp fulfillment
balm cures woes
the wind up and the pitch.
Catch them on the air this night
Catch them, hold them inside tight
entwined, all dusty ancient words
shared history
pull essence from their outward form
peel the me from the it,
for the you
unwrap the purity, surround heart with intention.
Catch my words through his.
On the air
This night
gather your memories and stir.
Meeting Allen
Fell in love with the man
Only met him once
Fell in love with his words
His life
His words were his life
Were his actions
His words
Were his life.
His friends, his travels, his moods
fears, deaths, births
fucks, tears, inadequacies, extraordinary
intellect, humor, passion, naiveté
words were his life were his journeys were his loves
Fell in love with the man
I only met once
After he sang off-key
pinched nose moan
read, bespectacled
his words to me. His life set to dance
faux operatic
rounds of rhythm and subtle movement
like his life never was
not subtle for one sweet moment
voice floating on years
up to our moist ears
balconied seats where lovers once
fondled each other
now filled by hipster intellectuals and yearning
boys
and beautiful wanna-beats
word whores, honesty junkies
Buddhist princes
From there, I saw not his rumpled suit or whitened walls
his black pool palsied eye hidden by reflected spotlight
his crooked tie nor dingy loafers
I saw his words rise like the breath of Lazurus
cloudy clarity, smoky sunlight sunflower vortex howling automobile screech
cantor’s voice of reassuring questioning
speculative surety
fearless terror.
Accompanied
by famous
idiosyncratic serial composer
misunderstood
farcical
joke compositions
like words
jokes
no punch line but candor
honesty the set-up
repetition the mantra
living the spiel.
Met over huge buffet, eye high
swirling piles of color
shaped shiny like fruits and wax veggies
bread and mountainous fish
cheeses, candles, garnishes green and purple
“Nice spread,” I said after circling.
His gaze never lifting from squishy hill
before him
plucking, prodding, choosing, rejecting
inspecting closely through smeared lenses
“That is usually my line,” he replied
poking at a kiwi with a crooked finger.
Only met him once
Fell in love with his words
His life
His words were his life
Were his actions
His words
Were his life.
His friends, his travels, his moods
fears, deaths, births
fucks, tears, inadequacies, extraordinary
intellect, humor, passion, naiveté
words were his life were his journeys were his loves
Fell in love with the man
I only met once
After he sang off-key
pinched nose moan
read, bespectacled
his words to me. His life set to dance
faux operatic
rounds of rhythm and subtle movement
like his life never was
not subtle for one sweet moment
voice floating on years
up to our moist ears
balconied seats where lovers once
fondled each other
now filled by hipster intellectuals and yearning
boys
and beautiful wanna-beats
word whores, honesty junkies
Buddhist princes
From there, I saw not his rumpled suit or whitened walls
his black pool palsied eye hidden by reflected spotlight
his crooked tie nor dingy loafers
I saw his words rise like the breath of Lazurus
cloudy clarity, smoky sunlight sunflower vortex howling automobile screech
cantor’s voice of reassuring questioning
speculative surety
fearless terror.
Accompanied
by famous
idiosyncratic serial composer
misunderstood
farcical
joke compositions
like words
jokes
no punch line but candor
honesty the set-up
repetition the mantra
living the spiel.
Met over huge buffet, eye high
swirling piles of color
shaped shiny like fruits and wax veggies
bread and mountainous fish
cheeses, candles, garnishes green and purple
“Nice spread,” I said after circling.
His gaze never lifting from squishy hill
before him
plucking, prodding, choosing, rejecting
inspecting closely through smeared lenses
“That is usually my line,” he replied
poking at a kiwi with a crooked finger.
Beat Beats
I don’t digs peoples who don’t digs beats
Beats is what this poor boy eats
Ginsberg, Corso, Kerouac
Bop at Freda’s Chicken Shack
Krupa, Elvin, Roy and Klook
Ferlinghetti, Kaufman, Steal This Book
Dr. Dre, Grandmaster Flash,
gamelan, reggae mon, cymbal crash
P-Funk, Stubblefield, Modileste,
Al Jackson in the groove wit Booker T.
celebration, masturbation, heartbeat hat
rimshot, bomb drop, ratta-tat-tat
DeJohnette, Roach and Blade and Tain, uh
the Messenger Blakey aka Buhaina
Dunbar, Barrett, rasta skank
Cobham and Rich lay it down like a tank
I don’t digs peoples who don’t digs beats
Beats is what this poor boy eats
Beats is what this poor boy eats
Ginsberg, Corso, Kerouac
Bop at Freda’s Chicken Shack
Krupa, Elvin, Roy and Klook
Ferlinghetti, Kaufman, Steal This Book
Dr. Dre, Grandmaster Flash,
gamelan, reggae mon, cymbal crash
P-Funk, Stubblefield, Modileste,
Al Jackson in the groove wit Booker T.
celebration, masturbation, heartbeat hat
rimshot, bomb drop, ratta-tat-tat
DeJohnette, Roach and Blade and Tain, uh
the Messenger Blakey aka Buhaina
Dunbar, Barrett, rasta skank
Cobham and Rich lay it down like a tank
I don’t digs peoples who don’t digs beats
Beats is what this poor boy eats
Nightmare
red-tailed missile
childhood nightmare
the record:
failure
unknown
inadequacy.
wolf in the shadows
childhood nightmare
the record:
failure
unknown
inadequacy.
wolf in the shadows
Whom Love
(after Ginsberg)
Whom love?
He loved her!
Whom love?
He loved her!
Whom love?
He loved her!
Whom love?
He loved her!
Whom love?
We loved her!
Whom love?
We loved her!
Whom love?
You loved her!
Whom love?
You loved her!
Who do we love?
Who does she love?
Who do we love?
Who does she love?
Who do we love?
Who does she love?
Who do we love?
Who does she love?
Who do we love?
You love! You love them!
Who do we love?
You love! You love them!
Who do we love?
We love! We love you!
Who do we love?
You love! You love you!
Whom love?
We love you!
Whom love?
We love you!
Whom love?
You love you!
Whom love?
You love you!
II.
Whydja love?
We didn't wanna love!
Whydja love?
We didn't wanna love!
Whydja love?
You didn't wanna love!
Whydja love?
You didn't wanna love!
Who said love?
Who said we hadda love?
Who said love?
Who said we hadda love?
Who said love?
Who said you hadda love?
Who said love?
Who said you hadda love?
Who wantsa love?
We wanna love!
Who wantsa love?
We wanna love!
Who wantsa love?
We wanna love!
We wanna
We wanna
We wanna love!
Who wanted ta love?
Somebody musta wanted ta love!
Who wanted ta love?
Somebody musta wanted ta love!
Who wanted ta love?
Somebody musta wanted ta love!
Who wanted ta love?
Somebody musta wanted ta love!
They wanted ta love!
They needed ta love!
They wanted ta love!
They needed ta love!
They wanted ta love!
They needed ta love!
They wanted ta love!
They needed ta love!
They thought they hadda love!
They thought they hadda love!
They thought they hadda love!
They thought they hadda love!
He said he hadda love!
She said he better love!
He said he hadda love!
She said he better love!
He said he hadda love!
She said he better love!
He said he hadda love!
She said he better love!
What did she say he better love for?
What did she say he better love for?
What did she say he better love for?
What did she say he better love for?
Hadda get ridda him with a love!
Hadda get ridda him with a love!
Hadda get ridda him with a love!
Hadda get ridda him with a love!
He's still there building a love!
He's still there building a love!
He's still there building a love!
He's still there building a love!
III.
Perserverance did the job
Love & M'love Love & M'love
Perserverance did the job
Love & M'love Love & M'love
Love & M'love Love & M'love
Perserverance did the job
Love & M'love Love & M'love
Perserverance did the job
Play at love for the mob
Love & M'love Love & M'love
Play at love for the mob
Love & M'love Love & M'love
Love & M'love Love & M'love
Love M'love Love M'love
Love & M'love Love & M'love
Love M'love Love M'love
Love M'love Love M'love
Love M'love Love M'love
Love M'love Love M'love
Love M'love Love M'love
Bradley says Love & M'love
Perserverance did the job
- 8/15/97 inspired by Allen Ginsberg's "Hüm Bomb"
Whom love?
He loved her!
Whom love?
He loved her!
Whom love?
He loved her!
Whom love?
He loved her!
Whom love?
We loved her!
Whom love?
We loved her!
Whom love?
You loved her!
Whom love?
You loved her!
Who do we love?
Who does she love?
Who do we love?
Who does she love?
Who do we love?
Who does she love?
Who do we love?
Who does she love?
Who do we love?
You love! You love them!
Who do we love?
You love! You love them!
Who do we love?
We love! We love you!
Who do we love?
You love! You love you!
Whom love?
We love you!
Whom love?
We love you!
Whom love?
You love you!
Whom love?
You love you!
II.
Whydja love?
We didn't wanna love!
Whydja love?
We didn't wanna love!
Whydja love?
You didn't wanna love!
Whydja love?
You didn't wanna love!
Who said love?
Who said we hadda love?
Who said love?
Who said we hadda love?
Who said love?
Who said you hadda love?
Who said love?
Who said you hadda love?
Who wantsa love?
We wanna love!
Who wantsa love?
We wanna love!
Who wantsa love?
We wanna love!
We wanna
We wanna
We wanna love!
Who wanted ta love?
Somebody musta wanted ta love!
Who wanted ta love?
Somebody musta wanted ta love!
Who wanted ta love?
Somebody musta wanted ta love!
Who wanted ta love?
Somebody musta wanted ta love!
They wanted ta love!
They needed ta love!
They wanted ta love!
They needed ta love!
They wanted ta love!
They needed ta love!
They wanted ta love!
They needed ta love!
They thought they hadda love!
They thought they hadda love!
They thought they hadda love!
They thought they hadda love!
He said he hadda love!
She said he better love!
He said he hadda love!
She said he better love!
He said he hadda love!
She said he better love!
He said he hadda love!
She said he better love!
What did she say he better love for?
What did she say he better love for?
What did she say he better love for?
What did she say he better love for?
Hadda get ridda him with a love!
Hadda get ridda him with a love!
Hadda get ridda him with a love!
Hadda get ridda him with a love!
He's still there building a love!
He's still there building a love!
He's still there building a love!
He's still there building a love!
III.
Perserverance did the job
Love & M'love Love & M'love
Perserverance did the job
Love & M'love Love & M'love
Love & M'love Love & M'love
Perserverance did the job
Love & M'love Love & M'love
Perserverance did the job
Play at love for the mob
Love & M'love Love & M'love
Play at love for the mob
Love & M'love Love & M'love
Love & M'love Love & M'love
Love M'love Love M'love
Love & M'love Love & M'love
Love M'love Love M'love
Love M'love Love M'love
Love M'love Love M'love
Love M'love Love M'love
Love M'love Love M'love
Bradley says Love & M'love
Perserverance did the job
- 8/15/97 inspired by Allen Ginsberg's "Hüm Bomb"
Bomb Threat
"Grew up
with missile consciousness
grew up
with American Dream."
oh, to be your tortured soul
your squinting eye at life's obsessions
trusting first thought 1st impression
wanting only to be
whole.
- for Allen, 9/17/97
with missile consciousness
grew up
with American Dream."
oh, to be your tortured soul
your squinting eye at life's obsessions
trusting first thought 1st impression
wanting only to be
whole.
- for Allen, 9/17/97
Triple Feature
vast the search is on. Water flows down hill. Blood pumps thru
open time to tone the body and feed the soul miles of vein, artery, capillary
futures. for the impossible tumble towards the flickering flame
Odd that has created just enough motion planets orbit
I'd thought just enough friction suns. Rain falls from the sky.
I was past all that. to spur a bit of forward movement Isaac Newton
Somehow Forward towards something rubs bump on his head, enjoys a fine
presumed I was the "whatever," "whomever," "wherever," snack amidst
settled into life fill the void. brainstorm. I watch as she
cross-country uprooting scrapes her cuticles away with
years void, hole, emptiness, space, a one-sided razor blade
behind me, or so they'd have you believe. Just last month
The precipice beckons after 40 years of trimming
grants wings to the brave and clipping and ripping
the foolish sanding, harnessing 20 nails, toe and
the young. finger I was slapped awake by the
I am a loner confounding realization
The echo crosses who hates to be by myself that the entire
the chasm like the heart-warming brass call of the dinner bell
across though being by myself doesn't bother me nail grows
the fields (contradiction is the norm) not just the tip. I
come, dive, fly as long as the acceptance of the fact watched
whatever happened that I have an option a divet I'd furrowed
to the thrillseeker to not be a long time into my right
open-minded try-anything-once wide-eyed mystery chaser alone fuck you finger-
The jolt of freedom finally so is present. nail ease
frightening it's way from it's birthplace out lemming-
security, boredom, complacency like over the edge.
so cherished. and gone. I guess I'm one of the lucky
so clung to that call of the unknown ones to
the deep, dark, intriguing mystery have never lost
finally ripped from Van Winkel-esque numbness a whole
pierces the ear like that first note nail and had the
February 1964. Sunday night. joy of wonder minus
Your humanity spread out before you like a field on fire. the pain.
- 6/6/97 for William S. Burroughs (1914-1997)
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