Outlaw Poet

the ending of time, an alchemical rant

“time was, time is, time will be no more”
the brazen head

and it’s the big bang epiphany
in the gap between thought and image
voices streams racing
whispering through my blood
pleading through my bones
strange activities of my nerves
the unconscious life of the mind
a tetrameter of iambs marching
shouting
alchemically transmutative symbol decipherment
the book as sacred elixir
manger du livre

“the shortest distance between two points is creative distance”

and allen ginsberg howls
“i saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by
madness, starving, hysterical naked”
and diane di prima rants
“the only war that matters is the war against the
imagination all other wars are subsumed in it”
and amiri baraka chants
“they have turned, and say that i am dying. that
i have thrown
my life
away. they
have left me alone, where
there is no one, nothing
save who i am. not a note
not a word.”
and lawrence ferlinghetti paints
pictures of the gone world

mysterium tremendum gnostical turpitude

allen ginsberg diane di prima
amiri baraka lawrence ferlinghetti

numinous howls and rants and chants and paintings

and years of tears come fiercely flowing streaming
all the pain wells up
years of failure of not being enough for anyone
years of wandering lost on the outside
outlaw
being told “you ain’t shit you don’t fit what the
fuck you doin here? all you’ve done is create pain and sorrow
wouldn’t you be better off dead?”

turning away from walking away from disappearing from
bullies authorities tyrants the past the dead
in the hermetic corridors of authority the dead
somberly splash in their shallow sewers
devouring and regurgitating themselves
and with tears in my eyes a snarl on my lips and
peace in my heart
i’m failing as no other dare fail

and i’m in the gap between thought and image
how’d i get here after all the years
of not being self
after all the years of being other
of floating out of my body on the ceiling
watching skin blood bones nerves going through the motions
believing in space and time without realizing i was already
out out of sync beyond chaos
breathing rhythms at the ending of time
and now here in the gap between thought and image
where the only distance is creative distance
here now at the ending of time
i focus all three eyes in wolf fashion
closing time
i walk through the stone called lump of fat
and i float through the fire that is central
and i enter the upper chamber of the golden pyramid
the confluence of all streams
polyglot commingling of all voices
thalass feeds herself
and as i float over the open sarcophagus
i am
the ocean of consciousness

ron whitehead

copyright (c) 2015 ron whitehead