Litkicks Message Board Archive

Death of Joy (to Jack Kerouac)

Posted to Action Poetry




The world destroys its angels.
Cuts them out of pain - like paper dolls lying in the crisp white snow on a spot of blood
Ripping legacy from womb and sensitivity - from thought - like a mad poacher in the night
destined to destroy all that is good - all that is pure - all that is right.

The daddy whose loins bore my mind
died regurgitating blood - killed by a thoughtless world - a cold refrigerator with no light
Crushed by mad insensitivity to love - ignorance of wonder - and retraction of the heart
Neglected and ignored in suffering while his children deface art

And why do I write garbled on page
for the joy I was bequeathed rings hollow - lies broken at the foot of a grave
joy is easily robbed and the words written in ecstasy send me weeping when they are read
they have turned from testament of the truth to The Beat Book Of The Dead

The world destroys its angels
brief beams of light that lay naked to the world - guileless in wonderment
gentle white hands reaching across the ethos to caress your soul and masturbate your mind
angels passed too briefly - gave birth to me and live on bittersweetly - for all time