We were happily surprised that our last blog from the Beat CookieJar went over so well! We had been trying to think of new subjects, like K2, which would cause a stir but were happy to see that a bit of poetry gets more readers than a rant about our less-than-stellar form of government. The last poem got more views than anything we posted since the one about Obama getting the shotgun blast to the face.
You may wonder what iambic pentameter is doing in the Beat jar but Allen Ginsberg told me I had a gift for the rhyme and that a lot of my poems would make very good song lyrics. It is on record in the Ginsberg Archives, if you care to see. Ginsberg, himself, had taken an interest in songwriting and rhyming meters at the time, which was during the heady ‘Punk’ days of the mid-1970s.
All of my poems are open to interpretation since I will never explain them, so take it as you will and this one is titled, Metal Machines.
The metal machines move, mashing,
gleaming, reaming blades all gnashing
– a million daggers slashing,
slicing, tearing, digging, thrashing –
and chains that strike home smashing.
like a billion forearms bashing;
the victim stands alone.
The victim’s skin flies, splashing,
his life before him, passing –
– before his eyes all flashing –
like a flaming film impassioned,
while the machine keeps fiercely crashing
through the skull and finally smashing
dead, bruised skin and splintered bone.