Oh beat Oh boot Oh beat, Oh beat Oh beat, Oh boot Oh bea-boo-ta I am fluffy and beat with smoke in my seat, Bermuda I am scruffy goatee with flaming pee-pee Bermuda.. A Poe eat, a buttered up loaf of meat Ah yeah, eedeelee-o The guy that invented granola -- though hip and high-strung from fisting in Fallon, NV. Is not madda at Beat, than he is of the day he invented granola. Because that was the day every saddled weasel in the county came along and turned the simple pure truth of granola into a magical bullshit breakfast for kids called 'Happy Flakes' and 'Spiffy Pops'. Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg sat at the knee of Burroughs the mentor and said "Nothing Beats sittin' around listening to this old fag talk about images and fucking and drugs". Because they knew inevitably William would hit the apple, not the wife. And that everyone would be glorious, and utterly wasted on a generation that amounted to absolute squat. And as the nostalgia wears off, and I get sick of talking about landmarks, and my mommy, and the Negroes, and politics and how the Catholics are so far up my ass I'm spitting up rosaries. I will listen long and tilted into the tight dark pink night(y) to the sound of the hobo breaking wind and I will go, "That was beat poetry" As I crack open an old Milwaukee, and wait to get old, so that I might indeed kick the dog off the porch, and whistle some demented shit to the scarecrows, and the plump bunnies As my friends surround me clad in Nike and sponsored by Nebutal, and their Ex-wives REAL POETS, The BEATIEST, I will think to myself Oh Jack, Oh Jack, why did you go on the road, sending me on the road, and my friends on the road -- to find that all roads end right back Jack, right smack dab back Jack at the sound of it all beating itself to death I want nothing more, but in the end to be lynched by a filthy mob of illiterate baboons and sodomized with beets and poetry, until my ass flares like Uranus, and then, and only then will I concede that it was all a filthy lie to keep your minds in check by the man and his mennies with the hair parted on the right side in news caster blue, selling you tomorrow.