Midnight Oil is a Commodity

a tribute to Howl by Allen Ginsberg and the [sic] writers group in the contemporary stratosphere...

Midnight Oil is a Commodity (for [sic] and Beat) Rumbledrumsnare.. Swoosh. The air and the affair.. has lifted. I've seen the best minds of my generation racked  with guilt and inconsistencies.. I've seen their plasticated' faces walking the pier afraid to let loose the dream and take her fast and fornicate and forget where they stand.. I've seen them honed to cubicles in the grid of things..small philosophical pegs, closed in by the eye-level carpeting..a carpenter has no place in these walls that a 10 has built..no where to lay a nail in the foundation of things..cause the ground will slowly give way to sinkholes and yes..you know it true. I've seen their grins poorly plastered as they strut with mops..looking for the dirt that wasn't on their shoes..considering where there was a plane of being that consisted enitirely of air and time.. 1,2,3, to think.. I've seen those of the 'minded' generation racked with the speed of their old minds, buffing tires, pushing carts, tending grease, holding court.. cordial in the face of breaking bankslips..and all the money gone still find time to laugh with irony feeding them for the night being.. I've seem them trampled beneath the chariot wheel and it's advancement..and of that wheel are spokes and treads of the angel-haired hipsters, too much gold between their veneers..I've seen their bodies strewn over bluesy piano chords..talking smoke jive and old coffee cups..java-aged loners with too much caffeine in their hands to contemplate what it means to be 70% water..and I've seen them in junkyards holding scrap metal ceremonies with the idol cars of the late 50's..a time of the top down and open road and boxcar ridealongs..cruising the vast space of the creative highway with their freedom loose and their shades on...I've seen them love cigarettes and lounge areas, rest stops and cheap toilets with the hole in the wall that promises glory and all there is to know about sex...I've seen them hide low in pulpits the next morning..I've seen them speak out of turn..I've seen them remove their jackets from their square shoulders and decide the world is finally round in it's about way..I've seen them about-face in Navy lines and out of line they still hold their heads the same..one notch above [see] level so they can notice the end coming.. [incoming] ..I've seen the troubadors and they got no swing to their horns..I've seen them crawl between the spaces of a harmonica and never come out, or coil up the nostrils and expel themselves from the tarpit of black lungs...just low groans from their windpipes that you can't make out from the commerce on the street. "Opinions sold here! free of charge!".. I've seen the generation of best minds whimper at the loss of the Colussus and his road escapades..his cannon in the desert..his conscious Berkely skin..his Paris highlights...I've seen them settle in from their acid trips and dawn white polos and white slacks and ooh mamma where's the ketchup?... I've seen them holed in Hampshire praising California highways, dawn tutus and play quija board charades..hold 2 jobs, support 4 kids..and say the world isn't strong enough, the world isn't his... I know they're awake at night, these great minds and the stigma that the moon implies restlesness is well illustrated with their fervor..But there's always the sleeping dawn, where they're shuffled from immortal coil and pushed back into place..pine box pegs of conscienscious freedom ..all dolled up for the race again.. I've seen the generation of mind's best hacking on the knowledge.. those stem cells of tommorow that were branched from the new boomer voice..the new year baby that we'll name decade for all likes and purposes..and she'll coo man and gurgle and spit the sauce back in our faces..  I've seen them sleep with cancer  in their womb and the hope for new baby voice still curled to their tear stained cheeks.. I've seen their mugshots and racketeering charges; padded walls of botanists looking to save a tree or 10.. and in all honesty, I've been waiting on this moment.. all my life, when they're all racked in together..en-caged..arguing psychically amongst themselves about the living space diameters of the sun, the origins of 'expansive thought',  the true testimonials of Ragnarok, the bullet train's completion, the day the whole f*****g star will explode and we're all back to being.. back to specks of semi-conscious dirt on the superior's shoe... I've seen the best of the Generation Mind.. lose track o' themselves.. become donor cards and new limbs, new hearts, new thoughts..pieces of the global brain pattern, all stitched up and purple with lack of oxygen..The central nerve where we spring and live and laugh and owe and cheat and swear and..die. I've seen the best minds of my generation, yes..gathered at the house of enlightenment with midnight oil and matches in hand..ready to burn it down and build something new to worship..ready to break away from the race and settle.. with what comes next.