Sometimes

a reconciliation rather than a tribute

Sometimes I look into these eyes and I just want to split,

Like kerouack, looking for and running from, myself and god.

Like a six sense, just before the drugs take hold,

and even the sun seems to lag,

Where everything seems just that much clearer,

and any thoughts on love or cost are served beat side up,

'cause its only when you stop that you feel it,

that sense, that void, that knowing

but its never anything you can touch

never anything you can see,

but you feel it in your gut,

from the top of your head,

to the bottom of your soul,

it screams,

and you know

hat you just got to keep moving,

moving

moving

on that open road

Author's Note

My friend tells me that the fact that I hate Kerouac ( I think he was an irresponsible, self absorbed, egotistical, ass) makes this poem more interesting.