Ginsberg helped, couldn’t but do
His both damn and damned words which sink to soon swim again
This is what we need – no room for improvement, albeit a million flaws ‘n all
Pauses, spoken word fumbles aside drunken foibles
A cigarette perched to quench this strolling poet’s addictive persuasion atop that ramshackle, lacklustre stage of his
A thirst for a makeshift cocktail of gargantuan sorts heavily drenched alongside a parched mind
To slip-slide immediately on down this trusted instrument of his to settle a bellowing brain
Until that is
It makes conversational sense – can’t you not simply see that these tapestried to travel lines have been stolen from you truly
Is all that we ever do to not go altogether maddened
Tip your readied hat because you’re about to experience it all over again
Sink to swim courtesy of the next great pretender 😉