Revenge of the Beat Poet

Torn between deliberation revolution conciliation retribution
Walking streets of animosity and doubt figure it out
Shout throw your head back and howl like Ginsberg at a
Blood-red moon foreshadowing freedom dissolved in acid
Rain of desperation disfranchisement lusty greed greedy lust
Dust to miserable dust in your eyes your face everyplace
But here, now there everywhere but where we are.

Caught beneath thumbs and screws screwed by youth
Abandoned by age dipped in stone ossified in banker’s ink
Think as you sink into bogs swamps derelict haunts of ghosts
Starved of identity shrouded in mystery conferred by infertility
Of mind the gap a trap for the incautious incapable of second sight
Or first for that matter batter up drink the cup emptied by life
And thrown in our faces how many races end in death?
What’s left but Mammon and dust-covered rust?


For the longest time I made fun of the “cool cat” beat mentality, until I read Ginsberg’s “Howl” and realized I had misconstrued the lot of them. Sitting on the living room floor, reading his seminal work aloud at the top of my voice, swaying to the (yes) beat of his anger and frustration, and that of an entire generation of young Americans–it was an experience I will not soon forget. It occurred to me that as a nation (and as a world) we need to howl once again, together, in unison, loud enough to shake the heavens and wake the gods. This is my tribute to that feeling…