Poetry – Screaming for Beat

Screaming for Beat

Screaming at the injustice

The insanity, the madness.

Screaming in the face of destruction, devastation.

Screaming at the rape of nature, the slaughter.

Screaming at the mindless billions

Swamping all that is good and pure

With their synthetic plastic, neon boredom.

Screaming at myself for being

Part of the of the machine,

Within the machine,

Of the machine,

And at the whim of the machine.

Screaming at myself,

Consumed with guilt,

At my impotence,

Inabilities,

Limitations,

And inadequacies.

We should all be screaming

Instead of placidly sitting,

Buying, consuming

And politely talking

Platitudes;

Voting for psychopaths,

Allowing transgressions.

We should all be screaming

As the world is being torn

From our grip,

Nature eradicated,

And the planet

Transformed

Into a plastic theme park,

With Muzak, playgrounds, wheel-chair access and a curfew.

Where it is safe,

Comfortable

And there is no raucous noise to disturb the peace,

No insects to bite

And no, absolutely no, need

To think.

Opher 21.1.2016

Screaming for Beat

The Beat poets were the start of a movement that wanted no part of the machine that society had become. They wanted life. They were on a mad crazy journey to experience, feel and gain knowledge, insight and satori. They smoked hash, took peyote and heroin to change reality and explore the dimensions of mind. Life was a journey, a vivid set of possibilities to be experienced. Every moment was vital. It had to be squeezed and its essence extracted. Life was for living, for kicks, for crazy, but also for love, satori and spiritual exploration. Life was Zen.

There were no rules or boundaries. There were poems to be created and shared; emotions to be garnered, sex to be shared, music to be bopped to and journeys to be undertaken. There wasn’t a second to waste.

Society was on a mad controlled rush to consume, exploit and use up. It was devoid of love, poems and purpose. Everything was regimented, made to fit, reduced or eradicated. Nature was unwanted unless confined to trimmed lawns, tidy flower beds and ornamental plants. If it moved – kill it.

For me that vision of society was a vision of a nightmare – an existence sucked dry, leaving life as a desiccated husk of a life devoid of feeling and passion.

The world was being tamed, destroyed, consumed and made to fit the plastic model. People were being controlled, trained to work and consume and tamed. Their desires were repressed. Their feelings controlled. Their passions doused.

The world was being transformed into a plastic nightmare of consumption and order. Nature and wilderness are being destroyed before our very eyes as the juggernaut of progress bulldozes the planet in its relentless greed.

We are being fenced in, tied up with laws and placed in our cubicles in orderly lines. I want the chaos. Fuck the safety – I want the excitement – I want to live each second. It’s not about the length of a lifetime; it’s about the quality.

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