Kerouac Histoires

A poem for times of discord.

For Jack, bless him, he died much too soon. This is another one with a beat, so SING IT! (and speed up a bit near the end).

Ode to Jack Kerouac (Lost Manuscript - Posthumous "Next Book")

This is an poem that talks about how Jack Kerouac's 'The Road' inspired Katy Perry's song Firework. Russell Brand was Katy's Dean Moriarty. It also speaks on how his work helped Kristen Stewart through a turbulent time of her life. She was just caught cheating with the Snow White & the Huntsman director and was still experiencing backlash from the Twilight movies.

La mattina, al momento del risveglio qualcosa è nell'aria. Una presenza, che di notte ha vegliato sull' inconscio ragazzo, ora si presenta davanti ai suoi occhi. Dalle profondità delle tubature urbane, qualcosa è emerso.

I wrote this at the age of 17 as a tribute to Allen Ginsberg's Howl

Deep Prose.

"Where The Shadows Grow" is a hauntingly beautiful exploration of fleeting moments and quiet reflections, set against the backdrop of a world in twilight. Through vivid, poetic prose, this collection of stories and musings delves into the spaces between light and darkness, the weight of unspoken apologies, and the inevitability of endings. Each passage feels like a breath taken in the cold-sharp, ephemeral, and full of meaning that lingers just out of reach. In this semi-apocalyptic landscape, sun kings once ruled, burning brightly before fading into memory, leaving behind the quiet survivors who find strength in the shadows. It's a world where apologies are etched in snow, only to be erased by the wind, where the search for meaning feels as endless as the falling rain, and where survival isn't about shining, but enduring. With influences from the gritty realism of Bukowski, the wandering spirit of Kerouac, and the spiritual depth of Rumi, "Where The Shadows Grow" offers readers a journey through the fragility of human existence, the inevitability of time's passing, and the beauty found in letting go. It is a meditation on resilience, written for those who find peace not in grand gestures, but in the quiet spaces of life where the sun sets and the stars begin to shine.

To be read out loud.

I couldn't escape Kerouac

Inspired by Jack Kerouac's "Book of Haikus". Kerouac invented his own personal style of haiku in which he wrote three short, simple lines that had great impact. He strayed away from the traditional 5-7-5 pattern to suit his view of the American language, which he thought was "bursting to pop." "Above all, a Haiku must be very simple and free of all poetic trickery and make a little picture and yet be as airy and graceful as a Vivaldi Pastorella." -Jack Kerouac So, after reading Kerouac's little book of haiku, I started jotting my own down for a little while. I should say that mine are not connected to nature like Kerouac's. They are my interpretations. Not nearly as effortless, lighthearted, or maybe not even impactful at all, but we can't all be like music. (I will probably be updating these in parts whenever they come to me)

La Prose Spontanée, c'est quelque chose de rapide, d'instinctif, de vivant, quelque chose qui vous consume et vous brûle. Comme une improvisation de jazz, la prose spontanée, amenée par Jack Kerouac, c'est écrire au fil de la plume sans trop savoir ce qu'il y aura au bout de la page...

"But what is your happiness? What is the one thing in the world that you can do that no one else can do for you?" On the day of his brother's death, 28-year-old English musician Lee Highbary takes an empty seat in a crowded pub only to inherit the mess that is 20-year-old American Nin Adler. Nin is fixated on suicide while Lee would do just about anything to avoid having to go home to Manchester for his brother's funeral. Through their own separate perceptions on death--they form what could be an unbreakable bond. But will it be enough to save either or both of them?

just a poem from my still unpublished book under the shade of the leafy trees

Her life was plagued by a dragon. A dragon that dominated every action and reaction. A dragon that destroyed the tiny part of her she might have possibly liked. One day. The dragon was always there, sitting on her shoulder and nestling in her thoughts. Burning up everything that was good and pure; turning every positive into a sad mess. There was no way to be rid of it. The dragon must be slayed and yet an inner weakness allowed it to remain. She had no way of escaping the bond she had with the dragon and her desperation to do so only forced her to create; to create a sanctuary the dragon could not penetrate, no he could never hope to do so.