Thursday, March 25, 2010

more howl?


Here's a little poem that was the second wave of inspiration for this site...Ortega being the first wave...see we were howling. "wasted wolves". Then the other campsites started answering...and I was thinking in my head..more howl..more howl...anyways here's a quick brain splatter...

Oh in the hills
Ortega smoke
In the rocks
A freedom trance
Over look the world
In a single frame
A pocket tucked away
In green
And the sky falls early
Lost in the slow and the fast
More whiskey
More smoke
More howl
More howl
More Howl
-end-

here's a poem by one of my favorite eccentrics..Allen Ginsberg...how "Howl" of me..check out the title, man the 81 are more Americana than apple pie......

First Party At Ken Kesey's With Hell's Angels

Cool black night thru redwoods
cars parked outside in shade
behind the gate, stars dim above
the ravine, a fire burning by the side
porch and a few tired souls hunched over
in black leather jackets. In the huge
wooden house, a yellow chandelier
at 3 A.M. the blast of loudspeakers
hi-fi Rolling Stones Ray Charles Beatles
Jumping Joe Jackson and twenty youths
dancing to the vibration thru the floor,
a little weed in the bathroom, girls in scarlet
tights, one muscular smooth skinned man
sweating dancing for hours, beer cans
bent littering the yard, a hanged man
sculpture dangling from a high creek branch,
children sleeping softly in their bedroom bunks.
And 4 police cars parked outside the painted
gate, red lights revolving in the leaves.

December 1965

-Allen Ginsberg

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