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Literature Text
For Allen
Who are the best minds of my generation?
Who doesn't hitch anymore because we're scared of hick pig-stroking rapists,
and who doesn't hang out?
Who stares at colourful boxes and taps on little buttons and we don't drink on roofs, man.
Who aren't scared of our senators, because we're white, and the current Red Scare's brown?
Who sits on their ass 22.5 hours a day and waits for their little box to glow in the right way?
Who needs calcium pearls, micro-granules and accessorised under-arms, caffeinated make-up, good bacteria and Activium?
Who imbibes ceramides and emulsifiers, nanosome electro-cosmetics, and who takes trichologists seriously?
Who saw the funny side of campaigns for equality, who played the satirist, and who now is too young to get the joke?
Who's afraid to do acid in case they jump out of a window, and who's given up grass because it makes them scared?
Who has sex to make up the numbers, and when's the last time we felt 'as one'?
Who lives under the shadow of the eternal bad guy while we try to replace the freedom we've lost with cars, dolls, smoke and bitter subservience?
Who couldn't throw their watches from the roof of their schools because they had to get to class?
Who doesn't read?
Who pours scorn at digital light waves, and who hopes who will be voted out of their range of vision?
Who can't think of anything more erotic than to sweat in a deafening, poorly lit room, gyrating away the last ounce of their brains before they screw something their eyesight wasn't feeling sober enough to protect them from?
Who longs for millions in a pool, for electric gates, butlers and absolute isolation from the scum of their heritage?
Who's so petrified they need a 360 wide-angle videoview of the world which they can watch from behind glass panels?
Who forced young men into orange jumpsuits and herded them like cattle, chained, and ready to be ridden?
Who read 1984, and got a hard-on?
Who saw your great wave fall back, drowning and choking the hope from our parents and leaving them drones under a mundane queen bee?
Who danced under the light of a thousand streetlamps, spitting, pissing, cumming their last onto cider-stained sidewalk pavements and bus shelters?
Who ran away screaming when confronted with the unlabeled milk-bearing vessel, and who suddenly played the bard against poor plot and dialogue when they saw two cowboys kissing?
Who gave up on thinking representation matters?
Who swore their lives on freedom to ridicule difference, and convinced themselves their acts were noble?
Who demanded lower prices while the un-white world was whipped and beaten and then left to die in a pile of ticked off cuts?
Who threw in the towel of protest, convinced it didn't work?
And who sat in their room, wishing their life was like yours while steadfastly refusing to do anything, instead slowly decaying their minds with a steady stream of numbered boxes, shitty grass, rum, porn and trivial games?
Seriously man.
You've got to see it to believe it.
Who are the best minds of my generation?
Who doesn't hitch anymore because we're scared of hick pig-stroking rapists,
and who doesn't hang out?
Who stares at colourful boxes and taps on little buttons and we don't drink on roofs, man.
Who aren't scared of our senators, because we're white, and the current Red Scare's brown?
Who sits on their ass 22.5 hours a day and waits for their little box to glow in the right way?
Who needs calcium pearls, micro-granules and accessorised under-arms, caffeinated make-up, good bacteria and Activium?
Who imbibes ceramides and emulsifiers, nanosome electro-cosmetics, and who takes trichologists seriously?
Who saw the funny side of campaigns for equality, who played the satirist, and who now is too young to get the joke?
Who's afraid to do acid in case they jump out of a window, and who's given up grass because it makes them scared?
Who has sex to make up the numbers, and when's the last time we felt 'as one'?
Who lives under the shadow of the eternal bad guy while we try to replace the freedom we've lost with cars, dolls, smoke and bitter subservience?
Who couldn't throw their watches from the roof of their schools because they had to get to class?
Who doesn't read?
Who pours scorn at digital light waves, and who hopes who will be voted out of their range of vision?
Who can't think of anything more erotic than to sweat in a deafening, poorly lit room, gyrating away the last ounce of their brains before they screw something their eyesight wasn't feeling sober enough to protect them from?
Who longs for millions in a pool, for electric gates, butlers and absolute isolation from the scum of their heritage?
Who's so petrified they need a 360 wide-angle videoview of the world which they can watch from behind glass panels?
Who forced young men into orange jumpsuits and herded them like cattle, chained, and ready to be ridden?
Who read 1984, and got a hard-on?
Who saw your great wave fall back, drowning and choking the hope from our parents and leaving them drones under a mundane queen bee?
Who danced under the light of a thousand streetlamps, spitting, pissing, cumming their last onto cider-stained sidewalk pavements and bus shelters?
Who ran away screaming when confronted with the unlabeled milk-bearing vessel, and who suddenly played the bard against poor plot and dialogue when they saw two cowboys kissing?
Who gave up on thinking representation matters?
Who swore their lives on freedom to ridicule difference, and convinced themselves their acts were noble?
Who demanded lower prices while the un-white world was whipped and beaten and then left to die in a pile of ticked off cuts?
Who threw in the towel of protest, convinced it didn't work?
And who sat in their room, wishing their life was like yours while steadfastly refusing to do anything, instead slowly decaying their minds with a steady stream of numbered boxes, shitty grass, rum, porn and trivial games?
Seriously man.
You've got to see it to believe it.
Literature
ben franklin and the dinosaurs
some days, i wish i invented the atomic bomb.
some days, i wish i could invent a cure for life.
some day i will invent a working time machine,
and i'll travel to the era
of ignorance and bliss;
kill thomas edison and
invent the lightbulb;
kill michelangelo and
call him an impostor;
paint the sistine chapel
black after night skies,
after tar, after death,
(i'm) after your heart,
after all the shit, after
all the trouble, after all
this... after all, you still
aren't born yet (neither
am i, but that's not the
point of this exercise)
now for my next trick,
i'll rewind as far back
as the filmreel allows;
i will claim the gar
Literature
He Should've Said No
A pair of smooth, pale lips leaned towards his ear, "Come with me."
The boy's grey eyes widened, "No."
The lips continued to speak, words burrowed like little murmuring worms into the boy's love-sick brain, "I can show you the world. You'll never know what you missed unless you come with me."
"No." But his heart was thumping.
"I can play you such sweet music."
"No." Yet, despite his refusal, the boy's feet were itching.
"Let me show you how the sunshine can glitter off sand on far-flung beaches-"
"No."
"-As the sun sets on the horizon."
"No!" the boy almost shouted.
Twitching, the lips smiled, "Are you
Literature
just a thought.
the boy on the corner of my street is building a rocket. his skin is smothered in smoke and ash. his breath tastes of aluminum no matter how much his mother makes him brush his teeth. the particles adhere to his strands but he does not care because he just wants to leave and never come back.
his cousin delves deeply into her dreams, only coming up for air for a few hours. she sketches the creatures of pacific ocean eyes and multifarious races on the backs of her hands. their lemon yellow skin has painted hers and her mother spends most of her time in the bathtub, attempting to rid her daughter of these 'puerile' ideas. the daughter sits on h
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This is inspired by Ginsberg's Howl, and life as it is today.
© 2006 - 2024 Superiorflowerpower
Comments14
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Brilliant. I can't wait to read more of your poetry.