the poet follows the poem

[revolutionR]

the poet follows the poem
arrives at where it came from
in the beginning when that first poem came
those first stumbling words

what makes you think you are a poet
it's the beatnik bongos playing in your head
it's the news reel of the Kennedy assassination
playing over and over and we still don't see
that our reality changed in that moment
that that moment contains infinite time lines
it's the stars in the black coffee cup of sky
that move around as you stare deep into the cosmos
it's saying what pops into your mind
no matter how seemingly absurd
or how subversive or flippant
it's the need to write is more important
then anything else, it's that wild impulse
that something needs to be written down
when you are living on food commodities
in those early days before food stamps
and all you have is a copy of Howl
or a dog eared On the Road or Naked Lunch
and you don't know what that means
but you have a hunch that behind those writings
is something that must be said
and one bowl for your rice and beans

it's that being drawn to certain writers
the uncanny feeling that some poet is calling
to you to find their work on a library shelve
or at somebody's place that they just happen
to have a copy of the poems you are meant to find

the poet follows the poem through the narrow night
of winding fingers of the universe lit up like neon signs
through the mental hospital of society
through the long hallway of the cheap hotel
nothing is more important then writing those words
on the walls of bedlam of the walls of the subway

you are a poet because you will be told you are crazy
otherwise, you will be told that anyway
you are poet because you did not want to be drafted
and it sent you down a strange road you might not gone
down otherwise

you are a poet because you can't remember
what you wrote down yesterday
but you find it in the note pad that you find
again, and the words penned there
seem to have been written ages ago
somewhere there is a poem in there
so you set the words aside and wait
for the world to become like a Buddha

[WIREMAN]

The poets life on splice, eating those red beans and rice......the musicality of the moment toot-toot?