The Persistence

“I saw the best minds of my generation
destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix.”
~ Allen Ginsberg

THE PERSISTENCE

The gleaning
seeking fallen fruit
after the harvesting
Neither sowing small
nor reaping big
The art of just surviving
Street wise shaded eyes
failing to disguise
a festering fever
of hidden trauma
Is this life but a test?
A trial by unholy fire?

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The Doors of Deception

Six long weeks
roaming the dry crust
of a sun burnt wilderness.
Nothing but rocks and red dust.
The hot desert winds
that flay the skin
… now murmuring,
with words broken
of souls lost and forsaken.
Best I finally surrender
upon this alien terrain
the haunted trauma
of a time I’ve tried in vain
. . . to never remember.

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The Elvis of God

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. . . and the Glam Rock

A child playing
with wildfire rebellion
The tailor who fits you up
swiftly twisting
sweet venom on the tongue
with chemical smoke rising
Into the ghetto of the soul
a toxic river flowing
Body and spirit
within the echo of a scream
a tangled web
of a deceptive dream
For heaven’s sake
sleepwalkers awake
Is it ever too late
to make the big break?
Who’s pulling the strings?
Can you hear the truth
when the Elvis of God sings?

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