The Dharma Bums (remastered)

I've seen the most romantic hearts 

of my generation destroyed by empty beds,
senseless, roaming illuminated streets 

looking for someone with a spare light,

forgotten descendants of the cool note 

yearning for the understanding of stars
and a lit cigarette for who sanity ink’d 

, strung up glassy eyed sat up 

speaking to no one that was there 

exhaling their best interpretations of 

     New Orlean’s Summer Nights

colored in soul with different shades of paint 

than the usual under the Le' and saw
buddah teetering on halfway house rooftops 

and somehow still managed to be luminous,

who passed through institutions 

with subtle steps yet radiant eyes 

trying to figure out the difference 

between pipe dreams 

and moonless nights among
the scholars of vanity, 

who were condemned for the 

moment lady day took
their attention away from Jesus, 

who were violated

while still having on their
underwear and still not feeling 

the full effects of what they ingested earlier

the consent was inhibited by poor judgment 

 
who walk in straight line all the way 

through Mount Vernon on the way to
San Francisco with a sheet of Abbey Road 

under their tounge.eastcoastwestside

Who swore the return of werewolves 

in the corner of Thursday blues night… 

sipping whiskey from a personal 

hoping to find someone willing to take an offer,

Who ate dirty ice in stolen living spaces 

or drank urine in paradise alley (desperatetimesthemeasure)
or confined to their torsos with dreams, 

with drugs, 

           alcohol and conversations

while painting nothing other than 

the calloused hands

of time.stilltryingtopaintwhatitfeelike

Word to the Fillmore... I'll be there on time, I promise.