poetry

Three Little Birds

jack kerouac by raqueltee

jack kerouac by raqueltee

Take one: the future Ginsberg
Beard jutting out the sides of your chin
Ruffled, long hair, cigarette-spent lips
Yellow, crooked teeth
Who mouths nothing but philosophy and poetry
One: Descartes, Two: Wittgenstein, Three: Derrida
Praying to the great god Vladimir Nabokov
While deconstructing south rap and modern jazz
and jumping back and forth between imagined muses

Take two: the future Kerouac
Gathering secret prose and rendering it anonymous
Grieving in silence only to explode
In mind-numbing, fast-paced euphoria
Falling in love ONLY with Alpha Females
Climbing monuments at three in the morning
To decorate institutions with political graffiti
You will climb the highest mountains, German Kerouac
As you steer this plane across the Alps
and this world will be moulded according to your liking
the future Father of our anti-generation.

Take three: the future Cassady
The only death she will accept is self-exposure
Ride the valley on a one way trip to Nirvana
Full of: chemical highs, natural lows, and overwhelming peace
She will dot this universe with allusions and alliterations
and spread a cornucopia of love with the tip of her pen
and tell of ciphers that recounts the prose of disturbed children
desperate for love, searching for wholeness
in a disjointed place full of apathy and violence
collecting lessons and anecdotes to create
the anthology of this youthful city
using (always) the skins of Ginsberg and Kerouac
as illuminating back-story.

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