"You've got to pick up every stitch,
The rabbits running in the ditch,
Beatniks are out to make it rich,
Oh no, must be the season of the witch"
--- Donovan Leitch


Beatniks Are Out to Make It Rich

They had begun to question consciousness,
turning solid matter into fuzziness in their brains,
rendering not atoms, nor photons, nor particles,
only cold energy, halucenogenic stardust joints.
For the exclusionary few to whom the material
had never meant shit to a tree or a fuck to a rabbit,
it was the cash-cow of quantum reality,
ambiguous poetry for a Beat Generation,
Uncertainty in free verse chapbooks.
So they wrote of our interconnectedness ---
the Ginsbergs, the Levertovs, the Ferlinghettis ---
till the gravity of space-mind curved imagination,
a nation falling unheard without a whimper in the forest.



Poetry by Brian Oarr
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Written on 2010-02-24 at 00:50

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I wrote my Masters thesis on the Beat Poets, way back in the dark ages. I thought Gary Snyder was the best of the lot.

Clever poem on a unique topic.
2010-03-17


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2010-03-16


jenks The PoetBay support member heart!
a very good description of the times brian.
and thank you for reminding of young donovan :)
as things are at the moment maybe we should go there again.
but without mr leary :)
2010-02-24