The awkward yellow glances of a beat poet,
Voracious.

The trickle of a Solitary Man,
A Solitary Step,
A Solitary Sound.

Fighting the consumption of a million people,
Of bullshit and garbage
Like predators they prey.

Where are you now Neal Cassady?
The trickle of him
Like a faucet that leaks;
old and beat,
drips slower, and slower.
Though so long as I breathe
Never to cease.

Let us dream of a thousand and more heartbeats
To Bring immortality to your soul!

An awkward, but never dull life
among the stagnant so called minds
creates a ripple.

Indifference cultivates death
Agitation cultivates life.