Kerouac and the Beats all knew
a psychedelic tale or two
and colored words in awesome hues--
the soulful blues, the soulful blues.

A cultural experiment,
of sex and drugs and sentiment
to rile against establishment,
their grave intent, their grave intent.

While Kerouac went On the Road,
young Ginsberg Howled a fiery ode
against existing moral code,
the truth was told, the truth was told.

Old Burroughs, on the other hand,
his shocking tale was sorely banned.
The story of a doped up man
with wayward plans... with wayward plans...

This avant-garde society,
self-styled in creativity,
they reveled in obscenity
and misery, and misery.

So now their story's come to pass.
A generation lost in jazz.
Their heads were filled with gravitas.
At peace at last.  At peace at last.

©2006 b.cisek