Beatnik

There’s a woman at my church, LS, who loves to throw elaborately themed parties. Last night, her home was transformed into “the Hip Kitty,” a beatnik cafe. In the invitation, we had been instructed to write a beat poem and wear our cool threads. We sat 4 to a table and sipped faux martinis and munched hors d’oeuvres. This is what I wrote for the poetry reading:

While We’re There

I declare and how to stare
my wild and more than mild extraordinary child
melt the walk and north to talk
from there to you on shore
what’s in store we’ll try some more if it’s enough we won’t fall short
of his last bale of wool to cushion the prickle
of southern pride and northern cold
before were old
the shortest life is one that took
awhile to save
and knights and knaves can’t solve the crime of misinterpretation
sweeping the nation
under the rug.
We feel unknown but it’s more obvious to seem methodious
and melodic like the tunes you know by sight without a name or a label
to force unstable
and while I’m able I’ll hawk your wares.

While we’re there let’s check the timetable
as we’re able the west was won by the cat’s curiousity.
There’s no you in curiosity
and curios are even farther from the truth.
In my youth I thought it uncouth when muddy dippers
would double dare and howl to scare.
Please believe I’m all that I seem and more besides
and I hate to see you cry.

When we’re through and so will you
show some style of colors dialed.
Drill in to the interaction of distraction come to roost
and must distrust what youth forsooth,
I swear the spare was all that’s there
on the left side of the dashboard mirror.

***

[Thanks to BN for encouraging me to just jump right in and try writing stream-of-consciousness. It’s not hard at all!]