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.
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