I Petted The Dogs Who Didn't Argue

The Bartenders Are The Regular Band Of Jack, And The Heavenly Drummer Who Looks Up To The Sky With Blue Eyes, With A Beard, Is Wailing Beer-caps Of Bottles And Jamming On The Cash Register And Everything Is Going To The Beat - It's The Beat Generation, Its Béat, It's The Beat To Keep, It's The Beat Of The Heart, It's Being Beat And Down In The World And Like Oldtime Lowdown.

Struggle To Sketch The Flow That Already Exists Intact In Mind.

Let Nature Do The Freezing And Frightening And Isolating In This World. Let Men Work And Love And Fight It Off.

Between Incomprehensible And Incoherent Sits The Madhouse. I Am Not In The Madhouse.

Equally Empty, Equally To Be Loved, Equally A Coming Buddha