Howl Harder
(for the Beat Generation)
So you saw the greatest minds of your generation destroyed by
madness and all that shit?
In jazz bars and beatnik cars, you all make me laugh,
Listen, my fat friends, I’ve seen the swaying shadows below the
creaking rafters,
I’ve seen the walking abortions dripping salt water on cracked
tarmac
I’ve seen the umbilical cords doubling up as ligatures
Around flesh-less arms that flex and ripple at twilight
I’ve seen the huddled gangs in northern towns
With their bags and their slags and their bus tickets home
I’ve seen the black boy and the anaemic girl running through
secret alleys
past the banks where the metallic tang of blood and money taint
the air
breathless, under bridges which lead to nowhere
hunted down like vermin and scum when the scum
howls through the choking mist of ignorance
I’ve seen speech and eloquence bastardized by inbreds
and raped by parasites reared on cheap chocolate and ecstasy
whilst blinking images flicker across empty cupboards
I’ve seen the pickling prince pick up another pay cheque
and we all call it art in the city that never sleeps
I’ve seen the suicide eyes in screeching beauties
mainlining your trash and choking on the shards plucked from
seeping slash marks
I’ve seen the greatest brains buried in bibles and blown apart
With Mogadon and Molotov
I’ve seen the genius on the corner laughing at the sunlight
when the prescription lies crumpled in the hands of your
censorious princes
I’ve seen the veteran with the fake hips fall to the floor
only to be kicked and stomped by gurning ghouls in three-piece
suits
who dance and whirl when the rain roars
and where drowning birds twitch in greasy puddles
chewing half-eaten worms that crawled from your libraries
I’ve seen the white light, the white heat, the archives of sex
I’ve suffered your art and your lies and your prices
and woken wide-eyed and shit scared
imprisoned behind the bar-codes
and gagged on the ruins of your decaying plans
for glorious cities and the green trimmed grass of homes
built from fantastic bright plastic
and smeared in dog shit that hardens and fades
I’ve seem bottles of pills all blue and beautiful, there’s so
many colours that we can’t decide so they light another cigarette
and then, then, then
break down in tears because there’s so many buttons and batteries
and questions without answers and I’ve seen
the best minds blocked by closed streets
and buckle from the weight of despair when their sturdy fingers
grip triggers in panic and squeeze the life out of fresh fruit
that’s thrown to these little monkeys who learn to play the organ
when the grinder’s ground and the daffodils grow
under carved trees of peeling bark - in midnight park -
on benches - over fences - at midnight -
dirty fingers and chewed down rusted nails
I’ve seen the greatest minds shut down and closed off at ten
years old
I’ve seen a generation gnaw its own paws as the trap snaps and
the brain flips
and another ashtray gets thrown
I’ve seen the semen stains on shirt tails and coat hangers that
never hung coats
I’ve seen slimy tongues and broken bottles in capital cities
etched with scratches and wounds that streak the sky
as we scatter in all directions
fucking - fighting - screaming - biting
ejaculating, finally falling to the floor
I’ve seen them all suffering the aftershocks of your war;
I’ve seen the alapecha, the voluntary amnesia
of fools who pick at scabs with blunt pencils
that sketch still-borns and storm clouds
when the beat is beaten in eerie sleep
and all we do is wait in darkened caves that reverberate
with dark synthetic rhythms
1-2-3, 1-2-3,
I’ve seen convulsions and confusion
and ambition buried beneath flaming crosses
you’ve seen the greatest minds, I’ve seen
burning coals in ragged bowls
wine-drunk babies yearning for formaldehyde;
the bruised, the beautiful, the enchanted,
tonight we’ll glide and kick and fuck some more
and yet still you really thought you could howl.
Page(s) 61-62
magazine list
- Features
- zines
- 10th Muse
- 14
- Acumen
- Agenda
- Ambit
- Angel Exhaust
- ARTEMISpoetry
- Atlas
- Blithe Spirit
- Borderlines
- Brando's hat
- Brittle Star
- Candelabrum
- Cannon's Mouth, The
- Chroma
- Coffee House, The
- Dream Catcher
- Equinox
- Erbacce
- Fabric
- Fire
- Floating Bear, The
- French Literary Review, The
- Frogmore Papers, The
- Global Tapestry
- Grosseteste Review
- Homeless Diamonds
- Interpreter's House, The
- Iota
- Journal, The
- Lamport Court
- London Magazine, The
- Magma
- Matchbox
- Matter
- Modern Poetry in Translation
- Monkey Kettle
- Moodswing
- Neon Highway
- New Welsh Review
- North, The
- Oasis
- Obsessed with pipework
- Orbis
- Oxford Poetry
- Painted, spoken
- Paper, The
- Pen Pusher Magazine
- Poetry Cornwall
- Poetry London
- Poetry London (1951)
- Poetry Nation
- Poetry Review, The
- Poetry Salzburg Review
- Poetry Scotland
- Poetry Wales
- Private Tutor
- Purple Patch
- Quarto
- Rain Dog
- Reach Poetry
- Review, The
- Rialto, The
- Second Aeon
- Seventh Quarry, The
- Shearsman
- Smiths Knoll
- Smoke
- South
- Staple
- Strange Faeces
- Tabla Book of New Verse, The
- Thumbscrew
- Tolling Elves
- Ugly Tree, The
- Weyfarers
- Wolf, The
- Yellow Crane, The