HOWL NOW

by Roger W Hancock

(With no apologies to Allen Ginsberg.)

The best minds of each generation; who decides the naked truth?

Overaged hippies now on government dole of little use to society by the machinery of liberal day.

Young seeking, embracing music contemplating, jazz, rock, rap of robbery, incest, rape, murder; no respect for mother, sister.

Tattered poverty enabled, encouraged, no treatment for man’s torn dignity.

Gun placed to head bearing brains to hell with hopelessness of too much freedom, no morals to hedge day’s demons.

The best minds of imagination, Ginsberg now dead, have perpetuated hopelessness upon the youth of university of open perverted mindlessness where only the truly great minds learn beyond the liberal rhetoric.

Experimentation without self-discipline a milktoast of gray matter hallucinating of better life lacking the means to enlighten oneself over underachievement of blaming others.

War scholars blamed for whatever, among campus self proclaimed gurus enjoying the right of speech without restraint enabled by same scholar’s premise.

Envisions of ‘one with land’ spiritualism promoted, unknowing of the slavery between tribes. Glorifying the ‘oneness with the land’ ignoring use and waste by men, Indians. All men created equal without thought are as dogs ravaging through waste can contents spilt. Insanity howls through time.

Crazy obscene odes becoming now shadowed by painted skulled windows, bombs to promote antiwar sentiments. The insane control the asylums. Asylums now filled with the drug burned out past dissidents of yesterday’s social naysayers.

Young girls, boys, in selfishness having believed the deceit of grass greener selling selves for but a morsel to live until the next green billed trick. Themselves, meat for hungry perverted souls. Unknowing, truth lies just beyond blocking the cries of the cracy man yelling in hateful tone of Jesus’ love.

Poets oblivious to the effect on society that their ramblings over time have exposed themselves, without inhibitions they say, rather. lacking the moral discipline of established social decency, calling it a higher intellectual creativity.

Movements of youth create rebellion of social etiquette with filth of tongue to quench literary acceptance by all but degenerate minds, their creative genius lost in the quagmire of colloquial verbiage.

Free love, not so free take, take, a selfish ride through heart’s deception for self gratification. Sharing of one held dear only by commitment one to another no one else. Truth is known by all within one’s heart, run but nowhere to hide so lie and try to hide the truth.

Twisting fate of time for those who survived the drugs, traps of sex, violence of peace demonstrations, now work from within the once fought system. Some still within the perversions of their youth, others having grown learning expanding beyond themselves to self realization that in nonconformance they had conformed and now listen to their hearts to become their own, building upon sound principles proved through time.

Modern poets not so great as great poets of past, Shakespeare, Tennyson, Elliot, names that crisply fall from the lips of men of every intellectual level. Ginsberg, Kerouac, Burroughs lost forgotten, now known only within poet community. Remembered not, their wake moves on in today’s twisted concept of creativity.

Where now do their howling souls lie?

Roger W Hancock Written 10-20-2002

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