scribbled on hospital stationery after re-reading kerouac first time in years
strains my eyes
hurts my ears
- stop that!
prattfalling
name calling
drunken fool
dreaming some vast besotted sodden ego
cryptic kicks tapping their rhythm
a French tango
only the French don't tango
yodelling hoarse voiced
horse shit
full of wine
feels fine
soaked in brine
in photo-chemical
black & white
like City Lights
like a checked shirt
for a lumber jack
kerouac
works the brake line
lost train
could be a ghost train
daddy oh the most train
probably the D-train
in 3/4 clattering
sepia time
with each fading rhyme
swolle' fingers round the bottle
swollen legs with the old thrombosis again
his self-pity and pain
all that poetry
interrupted
by his gazing
from the train
he was
talking to me
but he
so eternally, easily
distracted
by the need he got
to be proved a poet
a man
does what he can
with his need
to GO
skirt-chasing
and the fear of hurt
comes with skirt-catching
fear of that stern finger waggling
its admonishment
stand up straight now
Norman
in your Mother's house
and listen good
God i was
trying to listen
but i too
distracted
pomes all sizes
find one to fit me
i could use
the shirts
and stand up straight
stop that prattfalling
drunken fool
distracted
& whilst i was so
and not listening
nor really looking
he clouts me
real hard & sudden
like a coal scuttle upside the head
hits me
so i'm seeing
first the spinning Earth
and then some birds
and then the stars
i'm seeing stars
galaxies turning
horse headed nebulae
spiralling
and the road between
is fit for travelling, Jack
Kerouac
he hits me
and lets the universe in.
.........................
hurts my ears
- stop that!
prattfalling
name calling
drunken fool
dreaming some vast besotted sodden ego
cryptic kicks tapping their rhythm
a French tango
only the French don't tango
yodelling hoarse voiced
horse shit
full of wine
feels fine
soaked in brine
in photo-chemical
black & white
like City Lights
like a checked shirt
for a lumber jack
kerouac
works the brake line
lost train
could be a ghost train
daddy oh the most train
probably the D-train
in 3/4 clattering
sepia time
with each fading rhyme
swolle' fingers round the bottle
swollen legs with the old thrombosis again
his self-pity and pain
all that poetry
interrupted
by his gazing
from the train
he was
talking to me
but he
so eternally, easily
distracted
by the need he got
to be proved a poet
a man
does what he can
with his need
to GO
skirt-chasing
and the fear of hurt
comes with skirt-catching
fear of that stern finger waggling
its admonishment
stand up straight now
Norman
in your Mother's house
and listen good
God i was
trying to listen
but i too
distracted
pomes all sizes
find one to fit me
i could use
the shirts
and stand up straight
stop that prattfalling
drunken fool
distracted
& whilst i was so
and not listening
nor really looking
he clouts me
real hard & sudden
like a coal scuttle upside the head
hits me
so i'm seeing
first the spinning Earth
and then some birds
and then the stars
i'm seeing stars
galaxies turning
horse headed nebulae
spiralling
and the road between
is fit for travelling, Jack
Kerouac
he hits me
and lets the universe in.
.........................