jon1jt
11-25-2005, 03:31 PM
For Jack Kerouac, Neil Cassady, & "On the Road's" beautiful rhythms
--
City lights follow me,
drag me down low, low, to hollow ground
where the Beat drums moan
See the circles twirl along dusty old metal fenders,
Colors splashed on placid faces
listening to hymns, divine access
for modern pretenders;
Dazzling drips of red strewn on a fresh streetscape
car crows, and the white moons..Boom boom
Autumn leaves scurry and humans murmur
Love in faces of fancy restaurants
The sipping sighs for young, eager blemished eyes...
and education failures and more terror scares
Across the way, half-furtive glances in siren trances
There's an empty park where jazz notes roam,
on and on, like bottles carrying messages--
cigs and beer, one dreams taking pictures over fences
Of trees writing poems... Snap! snap! Crash,
the whole thing like a Saturday morning hang over
Garbage men working OT, hung over
And an old lady grumbling, something 'bout
charred glass from the accident, night before
Some middle class feigns with a stash,
walking by hopscotching kids, one howls
"Kerouac!"
Indian-style over skid mark tracks
And they fade but their words come again...
All in the glow, the radiant flow,
of the city lights
--
City lights follow me,
drag me down low, low, to hollow ground
where the Beat drums moan
See the circles twirl along dusty old metal fenders,
Colors splashed on placid faces
listening to hymns, divine access
for modern pretenders;
Dazzling drips of red strewn on a fresh streetscape
car crows, and the white moons..Boom boom
Autumn leaves scurry and humans murmur
Love in faces of fancy restaurants
The sipping sighs for young, eager blemished eyes...
and education failures and more terror scares
Across the way, half-furtive glances in siren trances
There's an empty park where jazz notes roam,
on and on, like bottles carrying messages--
cigs and beer, one dreams taking pictures over fences
Of trees writing poems... Snap! snap! Crash,
the whole thing like a Saturday morning hang over
Garbage men working OT, hung over
And an old lady grumbling, something 'bout
charred glass from the accident, night before
Some middle class feigns with a stash,
walking by hopscotching kids, one howls
"Kerouac!"
Indian-style over skid mark tracks
And they fade but their words come again...
All in the glow, the radiant flow,
of the city lights