A Beatnik Exploration



29/11/2000 An epic, long poem with heaps of musical, lyrical and cultural references. LANGUAGE WARNING

Words... defence or defenceless against loneliness.

Who do I hide from?

Where to hide me anyway?

Even I know where I live.

Even I know where to look.


Under the blankets in the dark of night,

by my side...

No one. No body.


Purple raindrops splashing soundlessly.

Beatnik bumping and grinding around the whirlpool construction.

Spin, spin, spiiiin... drop, drown and die.


Dead Daisy's at a gravesite,

what's she doing there?

No one she knows ever died.

No one knows she ever died.

Suburban legends of immortality.


One mother of a father,

nobody ever knew.


Darkness silently creeping,

roaring across the open field,

diving deep into the fox and rabbit holes

then leaping toward the cosseting sky.

Push it down, bounce it back, throw it away,

call it home from the never.


Never or forever,

from ever to ever.


Sunshine dancing and twisting patterns,

paisley hazy dust of rust.

Green and gold gardens of grass.

Jumping Jehosaphat!

Geraniums and marigolds.


Drug-induced loose goose.

Alcohol abuse the sink,

pour another glass of whiskey in the jar.

Flushhhhh! You'll wake the baby!


Waaaahhh!!! waAaahhh! WAAAaahhh!!!


Fuck, it's the cops!

Stash the stash.

Catch the cash,

dash the hash

...eesh! That was close..!


Bong on the oven of the terrible host.

Some idiot of a court jester fool,

shut the fuck up or down,

where to now?


Walk the walk, talk the talk

stroll the jumping jack of a flash

pan summer.

Fish and fried eggs...

Caviar on toast?


Bread and butter up the boss,

bastard of a bitch.

Buck the trend,

setters in the sunrise

and shine on, you crazy diamond.


Diamonds are forever

but they won't last as long as your mother-in-law talks,

long-winded, never ended,

blindingly boring banal banter.


Bucket and mop up the remains

of tomorrow's breakfast,

lunch and dinner in a diner

on the corner of the road

across from the post office

of God The Saviour.


Rain, hail and shine in the one day.

Fucking oppressive summer heat,

escape to the winter afternoon air-conditioned inside.

Sweat to shiver, cold to hot.

Never the happy medium.


Eclectic, eccentric emittance of the ecclesiastes.


Lightning logging landing loudly.


Gimme gimme another day,

light up the night.

Fight the fight fought for Eva.

Ya think she'd be grateful?!

Fucking famous,

everyone knows Eva.

Just ask at the corner store

where God works his wonderful ways.

Sobbing statues of stone.

Faced coins the new gods of the Philistines,

worship Wall St.


Lesbian lovers lasting longer.

Masturbating men making dirty a clean love.

Jealous women jabbing Jezebels.

Orgasms only,

they can't get no dissatisfaction.


Pornographers planning profits.


Punk arsed motherfuckers moving to Burwood.

Punk arsed motherfucker left in Campbelltown.

Fuck him. Fuck them.

Fuck it.

Friends forget, forgive forever.

Damn Eva!


Jane's addiction was always Tarzan.

Beatnik bumping and grinding in a whirlpool construction.


I hear the rain falling in the drain,

water washing way down the well.


Involving, revolving,

silicone singing disc.

Laser light bouncing and bearing

messages of music.


Typing and styling

a war of whirring words.




Where's Eva?!


Fuck the fluffy duck,

listen to me, baby.

Drugs are bad.

Love is good.

Live, long and linger.


Jump up and down the fucking frog.



Lest we forget those

who have gone before the birth of the next generation

Pepsi or Star Trek.


Colder than cold

life is heat.

Gone through the pain-sane barrier and out the other side.

Gone out the window.

Through the looking glass?

Alice's Wonderland.

Suffering softens to the distance of a dream memory,

'member me when I'm gone.


And back again.

Revitalised by Gatorade,

that's what they'd have you believe.

Another new-born Nike and Reebok

regeneration of the past breed.


Sporting fanatical fantasies,

jump like Jordan,

strength of Samson,

walk on water like Jesus

or a newly freed man.


Dreams of a nation

quantified into one woman.

Media hype.


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