*words misspelled done purposely...
Drift
idol is my mind to thoughts of religion
only my spirituality comes into play
as
eye sea a glimpse of my inner self
floating motionless in a see of calm
still i cannot wrest in this mysterious lo-cal
food does knot concern me
in my tangled web of conch-isness
murmurs are all i hear
i survive on almost-forgotten dreams
semi-conscious thoughts
images i cannot identify with words
only with emotions and intuition
serenity is my sustenance
surrounded i am by pink haze
outside is a black rolling netherworld
where homophobia snears
where "what i heard was written
in the bible" defies logic
where evil savagely destroys innocence
here i am safe in the midst of this black ocean
seperate from a world that does not understand
that doesnt care about anything
that wants to take each individuals
precious shining soul
and smash it to pieces
melt it down with everyone else
and come up with
a big homogeneous pile of dogshit
i will never sell my soul for acceptance
in my haze i will remain
sending out small pink ripples into the darkness
and i think my ripples have turned the water
a lighter shade of black
-ryan gannaway
...That's what Dean was, the HOLY GOOF...he now fell silent himself...his bony face covered with sweat and throbbing veins, saying, "Yes, yes, yes," as though tremendous revelations were pouring into him all the time now, and I am convinced they were...he was BEAT - the root, the soul of Beatific. What was he knowing?...I looked out the window. He was alone in the doorway, digging the street. Bitterness, recriminations, advice, morality, sadness -- everything was behind him, and ahead of him was the ragged and ecstatic joy of pure being.
Jack Kerouac, _On The Road_
Ode to Jack and Neal
when will i seekfindreveal my own
"HOLY GOOF?"
who allows me to let go
who lets me ride shotgun
who takes charge even tho' he dont know what the hell hes doin,
but hes got IT
who actually plays the piano while i sit and meditate and my fingers move
who leaves me alone to think in the forever night,
bastard
--but love him just the same--
my muse of life
of go
of be
of do
through fields of oaTs
to the horizon which seperates the elements in gods own centrifuge;
i find him sitting at my desk
i glimpse him as i sit drinking coffee
he becomes my soul in sparrow flight
flits through kingdom come what may and in the calley of kings of nothing at all
being "HOLY"
and a "GOOF"
he leads always
--i do the next best thing--
sometimes he notices,
usually not
hes done it better without even trying
"they know not what they do"
--hence, he knows not what he does
hes out and out mad kicks he is
lands on sprightly feet
cat falls back flat
leaps over box top lids of wood grained eternity
supe eats the dust, smacks down on concrete
when in rome
HG eats sweet vidalias
has life in one
all life in one --"hes just like that"--
trawls back
forth trawls
snores epiphanous hubcap
how did it get here? it did, just did, just does, just was
san francisco hear me
baby here we come.
-craig lawrimore
The Avenue of the Righteous
stare into a mirror
and watch yourself cry
watch yourself weep
a river of golden years
that falls like a frightened rain
down the avenue of the righteous
through the houses of the holy
tears
that dont require an apology
to you
or anyone else
especially not
the people
who dwell in such houses
letting their anger consume them
a rabid angry blaze
who paint their masks
with gold and diamonds
with Bibles and Torahs
with paint and oils
and who cant stand
to see the little ones
cry
and we ask
how do you raise a child
in a world
where the angels
are carved in stone
on the side of buildings
and demons
wear childrens clothing
and carry handguns
in little pink
backpacks
hold your head high
dont let the world catch you
off guard
where
children are the mothers
and love becomes an emotion
that translates
angrily
to an uneasy peace
and the tears
of the people
shake the foundations
of the houses
of the self proclaimed
saints
justify your life
with money
and guns
and drugs
proclaiming that life
has
ripped
you
off
fear
soaks into the hearts
the knowledge
that everything you once loved
and everything you once lived for
has been taken
away
forever
rests in the arms
of the children
shut the windows
lock the door
do your best to keep reality
on the outside
dont see anything
dont hear anything
dont feel anything
numb
from the darkness
numb
from the silence
numb
from the emptiness
let the world take care of itself
the world is out there
and we are in here
the world is out there
and we are in here
the world is out there
and we are in here
legislate morality
on a technicality
sweep up pieces
of a mans heart
from the street
nobodys innocent
except the guilty
maybe you can save yourself
there is a chance
take your lifes savings
shut the windows
lock the door
buy a house
on the avenue of the righteous
the world is out there
and we are in here
the world is out there
and we are in here
the world is out there
and we are
2/14/97, 2:44 pm
-whitney cox
~more to come~