Beatnik Stories

There's that space between your eyes and your brain, where these mad burnings just burn... You tell about it, and you're a mad man, or you're a sick man, or you're just simply no man at all, but sometimes you gotta tell it, and you gotta tell it through verse. This is a book of that verse. Burgid is a word that ties burning and frigid into a single meaning, kinda like feverish, minus the negativity. This whole book of verse is about that mad burgid feeling. That very same venomous burgid feeling that lies behind the eyes and in front of the brain.

Mid 1953, New York. Charles is back at the American Diner with Carol. As they, and their friends, continue their rebel lifestyle, Jim Etcher returns to cause trouble for everyone... ...As Big John vows revenge for some teenagers who stole his gas. The sequel to "American Diner" that rocks! Rated PG-13 for some violence, sex references/scenes, some coarse language, drug references, and adult themes. Warning: FOR READERS 13 YEARS AND OVER.

Sunday, October 11, I was invited to read poems at the Beat Museum in San Francisco. Great audience. Great fun. Here are the poems I read (and sang!). They've all appeared on Wattpad before, but here they are together with my introductory commentary. I'll post a link to the sound file if you'd like to hear them on Soundcloud. If you want to see a video of the entire 12-minute reading on YouTube, the link is https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LRXjmQIuqrM. If you want to hear (without video) individual poems (one or two minutes each), go to the "External link" button at the bottom of each page. Enjoy...

Upon getting his foot in the door to help his band mates attempt to make their debut album, a rock and roll drummer meets a poet and falls instantly in love with her. But the latter's passion differs from his, as she yearns on becoming a novelist. The drummer soon finds himself conflicted between his soul mate and his roots.

This is a compilation of poetry and thoughs. All rights belong to the author. (Except for the cover.)

"Poems from the Quill" is where I place current works that don't fall into other collections. It is here you will find obscure poems that range from constraint to free-verse. I began this collection as a contest entry, years ago, for what was then the poetry side of the Watty's contest and I have since kept it current with odds and ends. Love, peace, and freedom. Olan L. Smith aka Cotton Jones

beach loneliness

Conto metaficcional.

I made love to a pocket of crumbs

A Short Story/Poem (?) that I have written; Slightly in a Beatnik style, mostly in "let's write everything down at once" style. It turned out pretty neat.

If the title didn't say it all read on. A collection of poems, other short works and random ideas with varying themes. Reader input is encouraged, oh and a "Hermitess" is a female hermit. Most entries have a base in my real life, but then again most poems do reflect the writer... Warning: Things will probably only get weirder from here on out but you are all welcome to read on.

I'm sure most have read the poem Howl by Allen Ginsberg. When I first read it, I understood it to be a lengthy and visceral description of that moment in time through his eyes. It was so captivating that I decided to do the very same with my generation. I'm not totally sure if this is appropriate on this platform but I wanted to know what anyone else besides myself thought. If you're gracious enough to read it and respond, thank you so much! If I've already lost your interest, I still hope the best for you. Anyway, here it is:

There's not enough words to talk about you, maybe there's not enough worlds to walk by your side I'm feeling like an old fence in a country road It's hard to explain, it's me.

I am trying to collect all my beat poetry and placing it in one collection here on Wattpad.

by Allen Ginsberg

sempre que amanhece, um mesmo sol nos vê diferente. somos crias de nossas escolhas e geramos mudanças constantemente. mudar não é pecado. tampouco amar.

Melissa (call her Liss) has just finished her first year of college, and bought a classic VW bus. Naturally, there's only one thing she wants to do: leave. General direction: north. Destination: doesn't matter. She won't tell you until she gets there. In the meantime, she's about to learn a thing or two from quirky and diverse strangers along the way. California is chock-full of them.

troche takie smutne