Kerouac Child

She was living the miracle.
Largely denied.
Blind to inevitable.
Her God on his side.
Your the Kerouac child ,
mad to live,
mad to talk,
mad to slave,
never learn, but burn, burn, burn ,
a fiery flame, guiding the blind.
A One-life stand.
Her hands weren’t tied.
They all stood and watched
As Her brain was being fried.
Verse3
Her life was un holy.
He lived in his grave.
One divine loser.
A Corpus Christi save.
Mum, where have you been?
On Montmartre hill?
The sacred heart sin?
Your dissolution with contempt
Engrossed your in bones
Your Waiting waiting wasted.
© Radiuskink Music

Words and Music G Hendrikse