Monday, February 01, 2010


Been waiting all night
to hear your poetry, I said
You’re that beat generation
spewin that heat and light
Pure energy, that scene
You were on the bus or off it
I should’ve been there
with ya’ all back then

You were hardly born then, you answered
probably just born in tha sixties
No, I said,
I could’a been there
I was born in ‘50
I shoulda’ been there
But somehow I never went anywhere

I admit it tho,
I wanted to Be On The Road.
And one day I almost took The
Electric Kool Aid Acid Test
But on that day,
I was absent from life.

I should’a been there
But somehow I never went anywhere
I cud tell you sometime, ya said
why you never went anywhere

You, with your omnipotent self
How would you know anyway?
I wondered, Did ya really know
why I never left home?
It was a prison
built of fear
emptiness and despair

I never had a life
A child’s needs unmet
never given what I longed for

I couldn’t have what wasn’t there
Fuck it, I’ll say it, it was
abuse, neglect
comes in so many forms
eats away your self esteem

Made me weak,
slow, scared to go
Robbed me of my faith,
my soul, my glow

My inner harmony,
my sanctity
my sanity
I was a prisoner of fear,
a prisoner of war.

I met you, read your sixties words
your suffuse charm
emanating from your Hobo soul

I wanted to possess your poetry
your style
the 60’s and the 70’s
poetry of hope
An air of romance
a taste of escape

A breath of fresh air
from a smog filled street
the smoke and stink
rising slowly like gases
from the filthy pavement
I was a prisoner of war

Your words bring back the time ...
Words like book, crib, jibe
a stone’s throw away
the sun low fives the trees

God damn! Your words excite me
Sex talk, like poontang, tallywhacker.
Wow man, I never heard it,
But it’s cool, I understand it.

Your blatantly primitive lust
your licentious eyes
devouring me

Staring at my sagging breasts
cruising over my body
as though it were highway 59
Resting on my nipples

like a jellied door buzzer
my fallen butt and
orange peel thighs

Only served to fuel your lust
my allure waved strong
snagged by your naked desire,
your lust

as you gorged on my scent
teasing my libido
A test in trust

Your tongue flicked against your upper lip
What’re ya’ havin’ babe, ya’ said
No thanks, refused the drink
Been waitin all night to hear your poem

a moment abundant with heat
stifling humidity
complaints about intensity
panties clinging damply

Unbearable, prolonged
I want to hear the poem
my date languishing in time
Your glass passed to my hand
Contact, your eyes implored
lust and soul

Give me sixties or give me death
symbols of peace,
Baby you’ve got heart,
Go with the flow
no looking back
no sorrows or regrets
resolute to recreate
a life renewed
more chances to fulfill the goal
Don’t hesitate
Go on! Get on the road
Don’t worry if the bus is full

Symmetry of faith
advancing on satori
will get you there
search for more
no more prisoners of war

First published in 1995 in Grist on Line one of the first online poetry mags that came into being. At that time several people accused me of being a "post modernist" and I had no idea what that was so or more importantly who it included. I immediately began reading post modernists to understand what I was being accused of.

I couldn't format this right for blogger but on the linked version above, the formatting is correct. This poem is a throwback to the sixties generation