Dreaming in Kathmandu I awoke from a sleep of a thousand suns Yawning my barbarian voice Reaching out for a taste of simple and you Stood there in your grey Pure dismay You were so inanimate As you died again and again And every time you slithered away to heaven Your blood stained my flannel shirt I awoke amidst a war of the mind Where forces tugged and pulled eternally In a void of their own design You were so flawed In your silver aluminum gown And when you walked and when you talked You never made a sound I sat there in my own shit Wondering what is the point Of trying to stand When the rain gushed down from a slimy drain Striking me upon my crown And opening my insides for all the world to see I prayed for them not to skin me And put me on display I prayed for them to give me peace And dignity They said, "sure thing, no problem" And I believed them I trusted their dishwater words and reverse truths And when I slept Saliva coating my sterile dress Played backwards on a dysfunctional turquoise radio They filleted me while I still breathed And laughed as they sucked steel cold blade I said, "no, I'm not dead yet" But they ignored me The feeble cry of an old man aching for one more second of life And went about their mission I saw my heart beat and skip a step Dancing down a golden street And I followed it Reveling in the hunt of a dream just out of reach And the dirty churches were all around Sewers of gilded christian walls The ghettos I skipped through Down the alleys where old dirty vultures groped me Down the infected streets where pushers exploited me Down the cobblestone paths where senile millionaires licked me Something was wrong When I stopped to tie my shoe And looked up to see the face hovering overhead DREAMS ARE LIES From a turpentine sky eyes of iron HOPE IS WEAKNESS A need to be blessed by an idol YOU ARE MINE Another individual crime from the perpetual suicide Touch and go And I go to Dreaming and touching the things that I least understand I want to howl like ginsberg And dance down the alleys of americana like keroauc Experience and experience like burroughs And get my education from all of that But you were so damn grey And I was so inanimate And if this is the point That I'm trying to attain In my clutching acid hands There are no strengths Just assumptions You are who you are But who am I Am I that dream that I dreamed as a child A beggar lying on a bench Snot running from nose and flashing genitalia Two dollars and thirty cents and little bags of escape juice My dirty feet are a testament to the travels that I tempestuously strut upon As I retreat through my street latching on to the nearest guy I can call a friend But in a steamy night I get fucked And am all alone in the morning I awoke to that rumbling diesel sound of america In all her capitalist glory Business business business the crux of government Assault rifles on every supermarket shelf Children ground up into grade A beef We all know they make the best hamburgers Where dreams of golden streets are replaced by dirty feet Where hope is a dream And a weakness Where that face towers above us all injecting us with the invisible hand Where all poets are hungry and homeless While degenerates control the whitest house of them all America I hate you You are the school bully that used to shove me into rotten eggs and sour milk Overflowing garbage cans of the refuse of christian capitalism America you must die All your words are just lies Morality at the point of a gun And there I was in the middle of the sun My generation is dead Soaked up into conformist chains spouting diatribes that they once hated They are mad with money and power When we were eighteen we chanted communist slogans and smoked pot Cussing at cops and fucking fucking fucking We'd sip acid and down downers and uppers and rainbows We'd dream of the revolution and how we were going to make things better We would change america and make it better We would realize the american dream and make it better We didn't want to create we wanted to repair Television men walking down bacchulanian streets Orgies and drugs and walking thinking of toll booths in the middle Of a hazy desert where the demons feared us Now I am twenty-three and all my friends are dead Businessmen in armani suits and rolex watches Gone were revolutions and dreams Drowned by profits and income and meeting the bottom line I hate them I hate them I'm just like them My ideals shredded by mammon My heart shredded by machines of commerce I love history but I want to be an accountant I love poetry but I've chained myself to finance The bout of the century Ideals vs. money and ideals lost out to a thundering wall street right I awoke to the bugle call That sounded over the hills And rumbled its way down towards a hulking figure Sobbing into a dirty flannel shirt Hair a mop of anarchy Seated on an anarchic throne of shit Loving it and soaking in it and hating the smell cause it smelled just like him A piece of the puzzle and there I was Lost in your dismay But you were so fucking grey And so inanimate The whip broke my back the other night I told you that you were too hard And the dildo much too large But you ignored the feeble cries of an old man And proceeded with your fascist love I hurt from the gas chambers installed in my shower Why did you lie to me gestapo Why did you tell me everything is okay Nothing is fine I'm scared I can't see Where the fuck am I Is that my doughnut I'm kinda hungry Empty envelopes and smudged checks surround me Where is my needle and syringe Interstates criss cross my arms Is that you Fuck Who are you I want my mother I want to kill I want to die Wow my money is going down the drain And I just sit here An idol of shit but still you come and worship it I don't understand But I still dream occasionally When I have the time I come here and sleep drinking my juice And escaping for a few long years Whitman comes sometimes a dirty old beggar Trying to bugger me in the ass Sometimes I see ginsberg in his glasses Laughing at me and asking why am I so fucking scared I saw the demons and they chew and gnaw With republican anger and so fierce in their righteous eyes And then it comes again I am you I am america I am suicide I am degenerate I am wonder I am shit I am you And you wonder why I hate you And you wonder why I hate me All the same A mirror image I awoke and promptly cut my throat
Reason for writing:
This poem came about after a series of dreams and reading way too much Burroughs and Ginsberg. It is all about the chaos of dreams and how scenes jump and jump, there is also bitter indictments against my generation and America in general, also included within.
Birth sign: Cancer
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Todd Hancock.