The Beat Poem (parts one and two)

the world is splitting open at my feet, part six.

The Beat Poem

Part One

I have seen the sun

shed through the basin.

The silence of eyeing out

the beast in the loch, the rising

channels of libido corroding

its carapace. Buzzwords 

describe the chance, the 

probability,

 the random stare.

The telegrams screen your

allurement, the blurring of your

 eyelashes in the subway. Parkway

-drawn, these dove bones tell us

 the night has turned upside

 down. The ache of the

street-call, the enthralling

breath of dusk. 

--- Along time ago your dress

was a pile of coal. Mining with

the capitalistic mantra, we've

danced with it in the ballroom.

Pint's of The Father, materials

of pure omnipotence. You've been 

blessed with this numen, your raw

beauty. 

Comfort the wavelengths,

--- a pity for 

Jesus's face. Your

wooden cross

--- this necklace. 

For years I

have

         wondered

how you could 

wear it

when you play

with my hair.

That concupiscent 

---  stare. A

bib of 

indulgence

in your

"flower child"

--- prayer. 

A masquerade polity, this

one-sided love. Metaphoric

in all of its trials

and tribunal. The 

world today, how lone

it has become. Back in the

sixties we were playing

in Eden, but the towers

have all but fell. Our trees,

they are stumps, our feet

are also but stumps.

Never moving, loss limbs, 

a whimsical promise. But a 

prodigy in its own. This love,

our love, has literal importance.

The face of "religion", smiles

fondly. Amongst the swift undertow

the medallion still glows. Even

if the dreams of freedom have

become blemished

Part Two.

 

Al, has the statue of liberty

fell between its own legs?

The island grows mechanical

limbs, its wings of poultry 

send it to the USSR. 

1. The cold war was a facade, a ode to the control of society over the use of artificial fear

2. The cold war was not a facade, the warheads are coming down to bring us peace. 

Al, I was there in Geneva. 

when the tension was alone.

The red-telephone, line cut, 

dile tone constant. Al, I was

there when Ron raised his hand,

and spoke in tongues. The bear

sat hungry, and it was brushed

underneath the rug. I was there,

when everything was made alright.

Author's Note

This poem is dedicated to the "beat poetry" of the 1950's-1960's. Al, is Allen Ginsberg, a personal favorite of mine. I know this is a big piece, any review here is greatly appreicated.

The religious imagery in this poem is ment to explore the mindset back in the sixties. It is out of my style, but I felt like it was needed.

Reviews

[Rod]

I'm gonna echo "Con O'Clast" when he says this has the feel of a stage piece. I'd love to see this performed live.

[writing mojo]

interesting how you call Ginsberg Al, interesting how you take on the voice of an old man stating back day in we had free love, not just a f**k, something more, a whorl factory of pissing contest in the pockets of pransters to yuppies short lived.. then, the scene went from snappy fingers/ weed to heroin wicks burning at both ends, now it's hipsters on bicycles in MP3 synergy, your ode is a play list of howling with those in the passing inspiration we find to be intersecting..interesting thing to take on

[Con O'Clast]

I love Beat, I'd love to see this performed, it has the feel of a stage piece. The imagery is stellar and the line breaks are masterfully executed. I think this is one of the best I've read on this site, well done.

[Steven]

You write very well--there is real creativity here. But there is this sense that although you are telling me a fantastic story, that it cannot possibly be true. In diving headlong into life, feeling all of its many experiences across our bodies, we become one with them, and they pour out into our work. The more you can convey what you experience in your art the better it will be.

[Mockingbird]

i like the way you illustrated the time of free love, how politics got in the way. very ginsberg like.

[MOON]

Deep lovely write a gentle protest poetry almost , your work always interesting and style too .

[Coyote Poetry]

I have the beat writers books above me. They were a special group of men. I enjoyed the poem and the music. Good to read the writer's who open new doors to new thoughts. Thank you for the excellent poem.
Coyote

[Kenneth Compton]

Definitely one of your best poems to date Cole. Ginsberg would be proud of you!

[Matty Bosox]

I must tell you this Cole....Never, EVER, have I heard such a beautiful use of complex words in such a powerful state....There is only one other poet on here that I feel has the same inginuity and geneous to use such powerful and aggresive words and to turn them into a work of pure art....Certain people use these words and screw it up to where it makes absolutely no sense what so ever but you, you have done it right, very, VERY right...

[Michael G.]

Your poem brought back many memories for me.

(This review is written in a quiet, calm, and friendly, reflective voice.)

It goes back to a time I first started writing a few lines, here and there. McKuen was becoming huge with his writing and songs. Religion was important to such a small town guy like me. It was a good time to be alive actually.
I remember wondering if a nuke would kill us all from Cuba. It wasn't very cold at that moment in time.
And me, and a lot of my friends went on with our lives. Some lost theirs protecting the flower child and her beautiful hair. Not all sat around and offered love beads and flowers. Most all though dreamed of a time of peace, love, and harmony though.

Enough of my ramblings. Good write, sir. Keep writing.