YOWL LIKE YOU MEAN IT .. .

..

they said write what you know
as though I knew anything
or any thing was knowable
so many critical things had changed
and I submerged
within a sea of wondering
it seemed likely this could not last
I and my sticker book of crazy
where even sleep denied me
but then I considered
and confessed of those
imprisoned for what they believed
how could I identify with nothing
what would I be imprisoned for
and when the prison door
was flung wide open
upon my release
what would I be united with
could I stand for politics
nail my colours to the floor
or expound upon true religion
when religion seemed
paler than that inside me
within the realm of capitalism
and sport or human endeavour
my lost ship had run aground
my filial respect
lay in tatters on the floor
could I represent the overweight
or middle classes
disrespect the pope
alcoholics or disabled passes
I was lost, a Steppenwolf
beneath the bigotry
and all the flag waving
humankind’s inhumanity
intolerance and banality
where tyrants prosper
and the ordinary common man
does no longer exist
nor polite wives and their sisters
who in twin sets and swing skirts
presented their hors d’oeuvres
now sink their cultured nails in
to desist or speak out for feminism
even though they have no idea
what feminism involves
much like the bolsheviks
and anarchists
the marxists and the humanists
who had no idea what was involved
while we the offspring of the fifties
were taught to read the small print
except now the small print
is longer than the koran;
the holy bible;
great expectations;
smaller than 6 point Garamond
we don’t read, we tick the box
sign away conscience, heritage
and all intellectual freedom
willingly for a savoury waffle
and a cup of high street coffee
which becomes a sad omen
for the new currency
and a new oil
we must now fight over
finally a beverage to rival water
until the new generation
who avoid all hallucinogens
takeover and coffee shops
as banks and building societies
ascend into the ether
of Minecraft clouds
created by the mogul wealthy
who drop their rhetoric as poison
onto our hills and dales
where minds denied personality
are blinded.
.. yowl with the terror
as though you were an animal
as though you are lost not found
ancient and modern
it seems a real shame
Ginsberg did not make one hundred

©edenbraytoday

birthday cake:

a tribute piece/poem on the occasion of poet Alan Ginsberg’s birthday – 100
©edenbraytoday22.04.2025
another piece/poem in the series
– ‘BEAT’ for a new generation.