Rage and Howl
In Four Short Chapters

I
Rage and howl like Ginsberg but this is a personal battle the politics of the soul searching for truth in a fucked up world with baggage from fucked up relationships
Internal Jihad — a holy war really and truly and sometimes I bomb myself with thoughts of mass destruction and even this war can only be won through the heart
But a fierce heart A fierce compassion of the self (and others — it is the same) rolling up my sleeves for surgery of the soul cutting open the boils of bullshit ready to die abut yearning for life
Ahh! That’s it! Death pushes yearning for life True Life — free of bullshit living with passion from the heart
II
What else is there? dig deeper what else is buried?
Fear of loathing voices from before not mine but mine accept them to be free that sounds fucked up but it’s true accept what is fucked and transcend it
But how? Because it’s not all but part and small at that embrace it in the large and melt it in the fire of desire for life
III
So I embrace my fucked up ego and all its shattered voices shadows of desire Holding on
But don’t grasp too tight to hope or fear like a starving man holding bread with a tight fist consuming quickly for fear of losing but in this way tasting nothing of bread or life
So let go but don’t drop the fucking bread letting go is opening-up your ham-fisted nature slowing down and tasting fully savoring each beautiful and fucked up moment embracing the darkness in the vastness of life no longer letting go but surrendering
IV
Surrender is much deeper and more dangerous than letting go For shadow always follows light but in the end, must give way to it
I wrote this poem many years ago after a road trip to San Francisco and a visit to City Lights Books where I picked up Allen Ginsberg’s Howl and Other Poems. The road trip occurred after a major shift in my life. I felt like a snake that had outworn its skin and needed to shed some things. I was feeling lost and searching for renewal.
It is very different than most poems I have written. This poem in many ways was part of the shedding which allowed the soft vulnerable new skin to come forth.
Here are some of my other poems written in the new skin:
