Beatnik dream quest

The outside dull and contained

Inside rattles a beatniks rage defiant of all

Mad and burning red

A non conformist means is all I need

To live free on the road with the trees

Pensacola to Austin

To mobile and Montgomery here for this time

Who knows where the fore lorn rags of time will take me

This is day and now

A padded box beneath the leaves

Blackness with nothing for me to see

Rustled in the tress a curious eye on me

Sees freedom and liberty for all and he knows not of life beyond the pines and tress where grass doesn’t grow green

Breathing calmly in the breeze

Slowing a dying society thinks it can pull wild men to its knees

Illusioned and tainted fade to dust

Who seeks riches of a king

Searching to find a queen in the bars and alley ways

Veins and lungs

Lips and tongues

Lost dreams for ambitions

Stumbling down the branches and leaves all too often seen

A suit and ties death

Naive and pure for positivity and wealth

Jaded and poor with all the beatniks shall lie dying bearded and wild

Among the misperceived freed

Message in a bottle

What once was

Was once what…is

Left to dying by the will of authenticity

Leaves their message in a bottle floating across the ocean never read

The assumptions of asses like you and me

And me guessing what old dead men thought

The pen wagging across the parchment

Rolled up in old whiskey bottles

The drunkard who threw told his tales through glass reflections

Convection distorted through dusty shelves found as something

All that you can do is believe in wakefulness of here and now

The turning of the wave that makes it new

Warmth on the sidewalk

Politeness stripped

Free and clean

A bark discarded as scraps of the homeless and forgotten by the cold of indifferent wisdom

The youth not draped in gold or shiny brand names

Poised as unintelligible whipper snappers against the grain

Where I thrive

As the Abercrombie bitch boys walk along their sugar mammas wrapped in white gold and silver picked by the working class

Men like me not good enough for her diamond pierced pussy shining between her legs

 A moth to a flame all the others burnt by her temptation

As god claims all her sees in this land with his bible and Sundays with boys in men’s suits and ties screaming their freedom as an American thing

This place lies in ruins by the corporations and money vendors in polo and khaki shorts with children who beckon and call for wealth with an illiterates understanding of monetary things

Ipads and supremacy they declare they worked as hard as a homeless man does for cheese when he pleads for warmth on the sidewalk, which he never receives

Dust pickers

Opinionated action of this nation

Cannot be told of the hypocrisy in the south

Church

Beer

Chicken

Women up on a pole

Misinterpreted free

Distorted by the distraction of the gladiators smashing helmets and bodies while the rich rip through the old towns left dying to the new age of iphones and obesity

Until the government falls to pieces under this consumerism dust gathering

While housewives and old men walk across the concrete slabs stretching from here and more

You would never know poverty unless you were the carney men and women living it

Underground peddlers of the old pieces lost to the races of new and modern

Contemporary hipsters

Backwards thinkers

Seen value in the worst of this world

Naivety

Misguided trust in the people

I cannot hold

Just like the hand of a woman who sells fur coats and beauty to the vain widows

Lost loves to wars of the rich and loquacious

I can see backwards in the metal and skin of these men as they might have seen me through future tales

Angered and frustrated as the dust pickers walk across the southeast

Sweat of a working man

There is this kind of drulling around

The drones come in buckets filled with the swamp scents that leave their mind rotten and green

All they seek is that outlet

The golden wives dressed draped in diamonds and old histories dwelling above their pretty little heads

Traveling in the moving van

Giving them their fix on the wealth daddy left

These fiends grasp their dripping talons into the vertebrae of men controlling them with head

With a scoped lens I look into this living

While the road pulls me on and on and on

Their beauty like that of a siren

Calling me in

I resist their song

Which makes me dripping angry and red

The ears hearing me

Feel a jealous entitlement in my disgust of their exuding chain gain of the old dead bodies laid before them

As the surfs and wait staff look in

Apart from my looking glass and pen

Where did the revolution go and when did it die

Baristas and broke bricks on the sidewalks in savannah

Just glad for the sweat only a working man can get in the beating sun

My deepest apologies

There is a kind of love that sets me free

That takes the most hardened of souls and makes them soft once more

Under no discernation does this require the erotic of minds to be keen or used

The mind of a man apart from himself may become hole with her touch to his heart

The kind of touch that does not require physical to physical interaction

A mentality of a man who angers and grunts and growls of an animal

Howling for the moon

For she is his beloved

For she is glue to be hole once more

Grounded feet may they be the ones in which taming would be willing to be accepted upon this heart

The beating of my frontal lobe

The trickling of goose bumps on my skin down my vertebrae

Does this calming become mine

When adrenaline pounds my heart a thousand beats per minute

Does she take to beat at a vegetative state

Upon time do I wait for this woman

Waiting upon waiting as the clock tick and tocks away my days and the sands of time empties

One million times do I wait as I watch it go

The time will come for her to be in mine life

In which I would be deserving of this love

Until then

Wildness and ferocity shall be at my wake as I love as a poet does

With rapid veracity and never wavering

Never shall a woman again no love as I would give to her and all men to follow my deepest apologies

Devil calling my name

Southern belles and bitches

Trophy wives and old men

Bud light and Copenhagen

The rising sun coming through the window where I lie my head

Hoarse throat

Cigarettes and whiskey on my breath

Racking my brain

As another day begins

Labor starts at ten and drinking comes at four thirty in the Drury Inn

Old boca raton racists and long lasting lovers tell a tale of how things began

Old divorcees dressed in black dress fits like a glove as the sands of time fall on their hands

Under the moonlit sky is a lover’s dance that is heard by the stars

Howling at midnight  erupts when drunkards write their stories for the young whipper snappers like me

After the riff raff sits around a bonfire drinking screaming

Youth and youngsters cannot be killed only freed

No bars will hold the 20s til 3

So the outdoors be open and we wild and free three gonna start up some hell and see what trouble comes for me

Yank Hippy

Laughs and chuckles a man alike sits driving me next to him

Bouncing rolling down trouble filled alleys with booze and women cigarettes and pot for men like me

Bars and moon lights and stars psychedelic dreams of the New Orleans spirits who haunt my nightmares

4am walks down pitch black projects with foreign stares from darkness and others who wish the devil calling my name

Traveling through time one hotel after another and another

Couch surfing

Pot smoking in a strangers backyard

Living a life meant for free men like me and expelling the enslavers from my mind

Cranium filled with the memories of the ones who tried but lost

The ones who fell and were forgotten and never down trotten

Men alike and women gone wrong with insecurities who find me in dark bars surrounded by the ones

Your daddy and momma warned you about

The Yankee hippy boy who god fears

Joint in hand on the streets of Atlanta drinking beer free

Free

Free

Never again imprisoned to the chains of those lost to me 

Sinful tattoos

Austin to Warrenton

Panda express to refresh through hungry days for the adventure this October

Plugged up through travel and immobility with the birds in the clouds over hours

Commonality and society left behind in the carbon monoxide in the sky

No restraint left on my mind sucking up on ever vice and sin these shaking hands can feel all night

Screaming howling at the moon for more and more and more

On down the road hanging low with drinks from the night looming

With the next days debauchery coming

From the girls with gold between the girls and the boys thinking they bad walking slow

Down the road we go and go and go until the end of the earths reveal themselves exposing the free fall

I will ensue and pursue with sins tattooed on my back

Freedom in the night

I am out here on the road for the second day

Rolling on the bumps

Rivers running wild next to me

Danger looms all around this adventure that must be taken

Set forth beyond my control through the universe and fate that holds me tight

I do not know what tomorrow holds if it’s me or a stranger in a long embrace

Southern girls and country woman

Glammed up and done up

Slang and slurs among cigarettes and chew

Black and brown

Where is this going from here to forever, is a question unanswerable for me

I’ll just get in this shaking van do go onto the road their making along the bayou over swamps and old soldiers

Say avour to the chains and shackles and greet the freedom as she comes to me in the night

Freedom in the night

I am out here on the road for the second day

Rolling on the bumps

Rivers running wild next to me

Danger looms all around this adventure that must be taken

Set forth beyond my control through the universe and fate that holds me tight

I do not know what tomorrow holds if it’s me or a stranger in a long embrace

Southern girls and country woman

Glammed up and done up

Slang and slurs among cigarettes and chew

Black and brown

Where is this going from here to forever, is a question unanswerable for me

I’ll just get in this shaking van do go onto the road their making along the bayou over swamps and old soldiers

Say avour to the chains and shackles and greet the freedom as she comes to me in the night

The boulder's weight

At night I dream like a mad man with an ego noble like a hero in Tahiti and a lover in France

A junkie in Chicago but nothing at mornings end

Then I dream of the lingering love from a beautiful women draped in nothing but the glisten of her skin in the sun of mornings break over the hill

As she turns me with her morning voice subtle sweet raspy like that of a chronic smoker

I sink into the supple feeling of her bosom and the soft skin of her back as she meets me in sensuality

Only as lover can

Lighting up mary jane with the morning smoke covering us

Blanket wrapping us up and taking us to the heavens as she climbs me and the walls

As I wake once more she has left me

I labor and pain over the thought of her that stays with me like boulder trapping my feet

Unable to move

Angel in my bed

I lie in bed sleeping next to an angel who has me on my back

Reading playboy articles and she naked brown and smooth skin lay on me

Ecstasy fills the room wall to wall

Singing lullabies to me under the moonlight and stars like a million recorders found here for her and me

Puzzled and befuddled on the beauty blessed on me in this a wondrous night

I could never leave

I raise nothing but her on me as we meet again and again with nudity our only commonality

Giving me everything I need tonight and what more could there be in a life dream like this

Close lipped kissed and squeezing beneath me is the only I need and she

I lay my head down for the wake is a dream she was with me

Solitary bed is what I find myself in the morning of the rooster and hen

I find myself all day longing for the truth of her in my bed when I shut my eyes again tonight 

Angel in my bed

I lie in bed sleeping next to an angel who has me on my back

Reading playboy articles and she naked brown and smooth skin lay on me

Ecstasy fills the room wall to wall

Singing lullabies to me under the moonlight and stars like a million recorders found here for her and me

Puzzled and befuddled on the beauty blessed on me in this a wondrous night

I could never leave

I raise nothing but her on me as we meet again and again with nudity our only commonality

Giving me everything I need tonight and what more could there be in a life dream like this

Close lipped kissed and squeezing beneath me is the only I need and she

I lay my head down for the wake is a dream she was with me

Solitary bed is what I find myself in the morning of the rooster and hen

I find myself all day longing for the truth of her in my bed when I shut my eyes again tonight