i saw the best minds of my generation living themselves to death; endless legions
together, lonely in the morphia
somewhere where nowhere becomes the yellow brick meets asphalt, jail bars
and no smiles, they toss in their drug induced sleep from Heaven’s Gate to
Hell’s backdoor always diagnosed but never cured purified in the river Styx
saintly demons overseer’s of our bureaucracy and democracy milks the bleeding
nipples of aman’s life but always for the Greater Good, with irony
that it’s easier to get high than to deal with than it was in your time
as God’s mind has always been above our mind
radiating like fallout or fear abused in the safe house of flesh shuffled
back one week and found dead
their smoke clouds above the wars that pass out of our minds like short-term
memory and WTC sometimes breaking the bonds just to be fitted for new ones
above the tree tops of raging fires are skies with limits that can never
compared to the bare feet of my inter-slaves’ bitter redemption song
as they pass from death to life when another bastard signs his
first name but not his last out of confusion, while the gays i call
queer tear up at the revolution of their devoted train ride to monotony
sat down beside the distant lover of both fire and honeycomb listening
to rebellion in the head-phones that transport sorrow like king into
the sexless braindead veins of tomorrow’s kind forgiveness
then you know no one understands the concept of rubberband freedoms
and powdered pills, junk mail and the sickness in the living room that
puts porn at the fingertips of your children’s’ nightmare
children of violence and bloodshed when all we want is compassion
for the living juxtaposed to the evil we want dead
museums of relics of empty thoughts, jargon of the Wiccan and all the
demons to match
serving time for never taking a life longer than someone who had to condone
the wrong would set the ashtray of the Waffle House at 4 a.m. on fire
when the night is yet dying illuminating the perversity of men in the
bathroom in love with their most personal self’s at the edge of the
plastic rainforest with melting trees and wax fruit
shooting-to-kill with 15 round shotguns at a twelve year old with a nickel
bag of pot that would never get smoked
caught in the bi-lingual neighbor hood doing jumping jacks on a car hood
the logic given to them by marijuana and formaldehyde
riding the camber of violence in disease into the uterus of New York giving
birth to the Zen parable in me in New Lots finding the devil more
pleasant once the sedatives kick in
but don’t they always when the conversation between mother and child mirrors
the plastic relation that faces the threat of death with an unsure
grin a hand in salvation with pointer and pinky extended in pure reverence
of the shock therapy that we will all face once schizophrenia and
melancholia sets in like rampant cancer of the skin, gums lungs and
of a common beating in unison with the heart of the screaming monkeys
with prying bones breaking into database of your minds free will
and deleting the need for any god, love be banished from
the showroom floor oh love the forgotten whore blended together
with facts and lies to form truths all to boot with the normalcy of
psychotic neurosis and the inevitable that is the closes to Nirvana
fish stick that gorged out the entrails of the peaceful talks and
found the path to Peace on the downwardspiraling highway of violence
with anarchy as naked as ever with Beatrice still taking
the kindly killer king through the abandoned silos of wheat and rotting
corn while homeless freeze to death of starvation
then America smiled at her lost freedom and prayed to her many gods
that the last of the Communist would kamikaze
cursing always the pacifist and the love monger while allowing the
cocaine to kill the minority to lesser numbers but counting the dollars
with eyes averted from the cooperate slaughter and me personally a
victim of no crime other that the fate of a dying mans last request
in the hands of the Torrett suffer with intellectual ignorance like the
sword play of the terrorist hanging effigy of America in her nudity
caressing her anorexic sons and daughters of all God’s children who
giggle in the heavy smoke that floats down to knee length and
drinks down the contents as would the empty guitar case full
of rain water up about the necks of a complicated riddle that
is used to pierce the soul like the school-bullets, heroine needles and the
realization that something is very wrong in America
II
blue tongued from suffocation and XTC they dance knowingly
out of their shoes into barefoot with toes made for toe-tags
fading in and out of life because the Lithium won’t let them
function at all with the questionnaire of why so many youths
die so often at the hands of other youths is because so many
nations murder each other and casually make a check on
the to-do list with the bliss still alive they send their foot-soldiers
to reinforce the words made flesh of the mouth when they commit
no crime but to kill themselves and thinking it’s humorous past 6
for one to make such empty threats in the rose garden of dead
roses decrypted and turning to dust in the Sun but are yet watered by
the empty watering can in the hands of the procurer of all roses
nails, fishhooks and all
while the F.B.I> smiles sheepishly at the threatless old man’s
internet history of pornography and bigotry in hopes he’d find
something illegal to do to be arrested as Osama’s band of misfits
plotted for total destruction of a “Christian Nation” when in
fact this is no nation even half-full of God but instead
a land of filth and greed and hate and mental illness that no pill
could ever combat; no matter the patriotism is still alive
and well burning with fervor as an anarchist fire
that ends with a sub of broken bones all ferried to the
ghettos where they are forgotten along side the inhabitants
with infestation on many levels a battle to defeat
the naked decade of nearly two when the knowledge of Eternity
becomes a burden to bare and run with screaming if you have to out of
open doors into closed streets of marshal law and shoot on
site crime scenes that intrigues and delight a fashionable way
to spend the night aflame with the desire to be frozen alive to
see the future as it comes to a grinding halt at the last stop
balanced on nothing at all but human spirit and phentremine
snorted
III
forgive them all on the granite steps of Freedom’s Capital building
begging for redemption retribution and the like with the midnight
as thick as crude oil on ducks backs covering eye lids igniting fears
extinguishing hopes as i grow more accustomed to a new prescription
that is the seed of habit and the plant of addiction
with the heart of the chicken always a sacrifice to the soul gasoline
fueled rage as the newspaper dictates my beliefs
from down in the acoustic soul of sea-journey to the center of Hell’s
sweet bio-chemical warfare that i look forward to as Christmas to
a kid, standing naked in the snow urinating my list of wants among
which are peace, love, happiness, a cultivation of illegalness, a love uncommon and harmony
but just incase none come a sawed-off shotgun with infinite rounds
of galaxy promoted angel dust with a hug and a kiss for death and
destruction we let in the back door then ignore