Once I hoped to write like Ginsberg—
but Allen Ginsberg went to hell.
His bolder Buddhist poetry glitters,
then opens like an empty shell.
In vain one searches for the pearl
within the lyric art he showed us.
Open wide his rotten oyster –
seek the center of the lotus.
Perverted lost Semitic soul,
lyrical ranter, mind unhinged…
He celebrated sin and shame
while crew-cut culture cringed.
His beatnik aircraft took off fast,
flew into bardos of the damned
promising enlightenment—
but the cockpit was unmanned.
CONNECT/HOOK 
Amen!
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Bravo. Ginsberg is probably one of the primary reasons I steer clear of “free verse.” In my younger years, I experimented with it (free verse, not LSD), but written on LSD or not, it’s downright tedious.
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Thanks for LSD-free commentary !
I must admit, I still LOVE parts of “Television Was a Baby Crawling Toward That Deathchamber” (especially the title) – but it’s really more of an unhinged rant than a poem IMO.
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My thoughts exactly! If I must listen to a rant, let it be my own!
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Put some music on your poem!! ;)
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Special request for Regina:
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