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.