Allan, What Price Bananas?

The following poem came out of my undergrad years, a sort of mash-up of many small things I was reading and writing at the time. In a way, it is my reaction to the Beat writers I was reading. It also is my nom de plume for this blog. Let me know what you think!

Allan, What Price Bananas?
I am a man of questions.
I am a man of answers.
I am a man of wit.
My thoughts cometoofast my tounguepen moves too slow.
My thoughts jammed in my head three-hundred-thousand per cubic.
My thoughts are not mine own nor yours.
I am pure unbridled emotion.
I am no constraint.
I am too much constraint.
Twenty-eight overweight adults stuffed into the sitting room
of eternity's mansion the air stale cigar smoke clouding all.
Originality is almost extinct.
I am unconventional thought that defies unconvention-not-my-own.
These words not mine I write then lose immediately.
I want to breakoff dropeverythingforgetlife face the tracks make a leftright and go
Not stop.
I am unrest.

Allen, what price bananas?
Allen, what price cessation?

The more I read the worse my handwriting becomes.
I have too many damn books.
Most have been read at least once twice-at-a-time.
Me and four hundred years of verse scattered down at the schoolyard
vying for the see-saw-side without bird-droppings.
Walter greybeard please tell Mr. Lorca to leave alone the watermelons.
Garcia Lorca living somewhere beneath me can I ever know you will I never know you?
Read one verse on a flirtatious monitor screen that blurred your words and meaning.
Hey Lorca, can you spare a line?

Allen, what price bananas?
Allen, what price sensation?

A simile is like a battered seagull with clipped wings it doesn't fly.
A bird lies quitedead on a beach no-one seems to care decomposing
feathers beak claws eye staring at me.
No camera present except the eye's mind returning to me today was gone
for a while graced my memory a second.
Curious fact why I do not know.
Should be flying off through the vast above not stuck here in me below.
Deep deep rumble warns me to turn back but I must go on there how sad.
Odors of the game seep from the yard and try to claim it but my ink
won't allow it is mine yours.
We live in a world of hefty lies and lusty thighs.

Allen, what price bananas?
Allen, what price sanctity?

I found also petrified rotting driftwood I wanted to pamper take home name Charley.
I am steadfast impermanence.
I like my car radio loud enough todrownout reality if just for a slight while.
I sing loudly proudly. My voice lacks I know I don't care.
A sea of colored vehicles litters the bounds of the SSP in eastern LI at 3:37 pm.
On a Saturday afternoon there is no motion forward backward.
Time stood still just a moment lights lights lights yet no
Camera action.
As if on cue at least three from each car a thousand ostrich-
heads poke out windows and stare.
Their ungodly clatter is disquieting shut up and drive I think.
I pick my nose imagine flicking softround projectile remnants at idiot passerbys.

Allen, what price bananas?
Allen, what price sanity?

I have declared war on my sheets my bed I can't lie anymore.
Today I saw a general leading his troops left arm raised against the wind (onward)
angry grimace fumbling below war crusted lip hair the affair broods gloom.
One brave soldier bravely wrestled a mountain lion in the clouds above winding
my way I dream I am the sea I feel the swell.
Pull me under I see the white-capped crest far above
motion paused. repeated. again.
Breathless my mouth moves silent.

Allen, what price bananas?
Allen, what price surreality?

Then and now inseparable implanted direct-feed mouth-fed inbred.
Forméd automaton in histheireveryone's image.
Nofreethought choices alreadymade falldown eminent.
Downfall waypast no hope.
Preach to a peach to reach a leech all are equalwanted.
Madness then reality now driving me mad.
Leave me be (can't let go).
Leave me be (won't let go).
Leave me be out of my head damn you.
Upordown i don't care leave me soldered to my soul inseparable.

The cross looms ominous on the horizon a sight to see dread.
Blood oozes through the cracks in the pavement.
The prophets are in the red.
The profits are heaven-bound.
We buy our way to heaven.

Allen, what price bananas?
Allen, what price salvation?

Allen, oh Allen!
Better watch out kid the pork chops are pissed.
The she leader I heard her declare murder on those heads
that sentenced the pigmeat dead.
All the while Jack & Bill were frolicking on the hill wondering
about cracked plaster.

Walt, whittle away your song immortal.