A homage to beat writing inspired by nonchalant sex,
idle chemical romances and boozed up house parties (otherwise known as
university)
WARNINGS CONTAINS STRONG ADULT THEMES AND
LANGUAGE
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed
by
education,
half starved on beans and booze rations,
who passed through
universities with LDN dreams,
and their dad’s Amex’s
hallucinating
working class veneers,
wearing down trodden connotations.
Expelled from
the college blocks and uni’s
by the scholars of war and Marx,
in their
crazed cotton shirts and up-turned eyes
installing obscene odes on the
windows of the skull.
I saw the truth of the night
light up the small town
secrets,
explode the dreams of teenage years
as the moon shone rays of
ghost blue
cloaked in radical new signs,
of life hidden beneath the high
street and mortgage brokers.
Scrambled remains of Spiders cover the lofts of
pigeons breasts
writing obscene notes and obscure letters
twelve feet high
across the hearts of their friends.
I saw them escaping their mothers
with hard drugs;
their fathers with waking nightmares, alcohol and
cock.
Whole intellects discarded
in total abandon to Sambuca and bong
rounds.
Bone-grindings and migraines of China
under poison
withdrawal.
In the austere foul-mouths of bleak student rooms,
A silent
reminder of a monochrome Dylan, hung
framed with coloured muslin, saris and
silver wall-hangings filtering light from tea.
Floor’s and walls cracked deep
with polished sheen
where the light bounced and sparked alight the
colours
picking out the sequins on the Indian beading
which hung like
stoned eyelids from floor to ceiling,
blocking the paths and parked cars from
interior ideas of separatism
by those who howled on their knees on their way
from remedies and were
dragged from the roofs by day-glo cops
Who stopped
them from waving their genitals and essay scripts.
Who? let themselves be
fu***d in the ass by saintly
professors and sanctimonious governments, and
money lenders.
Who? screamed with joy, and blew their noses and minds and
were blown by those human seraphim:
the sailors and surfers with caresses of
Atlantic love.
who? balled in the morning of house party evenings,
in the
rose gardens and on the grass
of public parks and cemeteries
scattering
their semen freely to whomever.
Who? capitulated to boys from across violent
seas,
or hunted for cnut
in unbridled mansions and pick-up joints and
bus shelters,
Warmed with cider bottles and packs of baccy
and crawled
along the floors and down the halls
lined with nameless and blank
faces,
and ended up fainting on the beds - falling silent under coats, in
jean pajamas
with a vision of ultimate love like stigmatated martyrs
with
come to bed glares eluding the last gyzym of consciousness
as couples
copulate in corners
and drunks recite lines from others' stories
and
dopers smile at powdered ants with reptile eyes as they
sniff and sup with
ecstatic glee,
from emptying bottles of generic liquid tanned with
coca-cola.
As mini dreams reveal their twists and pre-packaged expectations
insist
Till idle minds find the sweetened snatches
of inebriated false
eye-lashes and stuck on talons
of emaciated daughters of lawyers searching
for freedom,
teetering on last week's fashions.
Of emancipated druggers
with ten bag habits reaching for the pen
trying to outwit the sword with
silver plates of brown tar meals,
whilst studying visions of Caesar’s
meals.
Of milk thighed virgins and bald arsed slaves to Rufus
Wainwright
As Peggy Lee and guitars and dance music blared.
Many sons
stiffened, and bottle blondes trembled,
their sweet honeyed cheeks flushed
with brushes of sun
rejected yet ready to be confection again
to recreate
the syntax and measure the floods of poor human remains.
Until
to stand,
with one hand waving free,
you’re speechless and intelligent and jobless and
shaking with shame.
This poem was begged, borrowed and inspired by
the Allen Ginsberg poem ‘Howl’ =
http://www.pangloss.com/seidel/Ramble/howl_text.html
