Deconstructing Kerouac

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Abstract

3">Deconstructing Kerouac</h1><p id="8e47">Telling you kid, the man was a big fan of the music. What music? What do you mean what music‽ Listen, pay attention. Not going to repeat this for you twice cupcake: It’s all part of the boondoggle, slack-jawed, union requisition frontier that none of us dares to cross for fear of incrimination. One must admit that he truly understood what most of us just can’t. Can’t even begin to grasp the solitude of Buddha and why the horizon arises. Rises from what? Where does such divination come from? It comes from we your God, he your God, thee our God!</p><p id="80b5"><i>NAMASTE </i>—<i> NAMASTE </i>—<i> NAMASTE</i></p><p id="0a00">Blasphemy you say? Don’t waste a solipsistic instant pondering it. Getting back to the point, is this, or are we bothering you? Nobody can believe they gave you an invitation to the burial. Disrespectful urchin, give that back! This medicine isn’t for you, and sure ain’t gonna to continue explaining the music unless you suddenly become a big fan of our relentless unrest.</p><p id="2e45">So go on => we’re waiting</p><p id="8b45">Still watching. Insightful,</p><p id="ea7c">impatient; harassed.</p><h2 id="a2a1">Further Readings</h2><div id="ef11" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/capsized-kubernetes-d23fbfb92c70"> <div> <div

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A tribute poem on Jack’s centennial

Ascii-Art rendition of famous photo created by Obsidian Eagle

“The only truth is music — the only meaning is without meaning — Music blends with the heartbeat universe and we forget the brain beat.”

~ Jack Kerouac, Desolation Angels

100 years ago to tomorrow’s date, one of the most influential modern poets was born to a French Canadian family living in Lowell, Massachusetts. Best known for his seminal novel, On The Road (1957), he wrote a great deal of poetry and prose that together with Allen Ginsberg’s and William Burroughs’ — defined the ‘Beat Generation’. My own lesser known favorites written by Jack Kerouac include: Some of The Dharma (published posthumously in 1997), The Scripture of The Golden Eternity (1960), and Tristessa (1960). Today’s piece is an homage that doesn’t seek to outdo the master, but rather, pays reverence to his stream-of-consciousness style.

From the forthcoming, Future Sutras: A Decade of Anti-Poetry

Deconstructing Kerouac

Telling you kid, the man was a big fan of the music. What music? What do you mean what music‽ Listen, pay attention. Not going to repeat this for you twice cupcake: It’s all part of the boondoggle, slack-jawed, union requisition frontier that none of us dares to cross for fear of incrimination. One must admit that he truly understood what most of us just can’t. Can’t even begin to grasp the solitude of Buddha and why the horizon arises. Rises from what? Where does such divination come from? It comes from we your God, he your God, thee our God!

NAMASTE — NAMASTE — NAMASTE

Blasphemy you say? Don’t waste a solipsistic instant pondering it. Getting back to the point, is this, or are we bothering you? Nobody can believe they gave you an invitation to the burial. Disrespectful urchin, give that back! This medicine isn’t for you, and sure ain’t gonna to continue explaining the music unless you suddenly become a big fan of our relentless unrest.

So go on => we’re waiting

Still watching. Insightful,

impatient; harassed.