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Just Walkin Down This Road
Where Ever it Takes Me
Created on 2001-10-20 08:13:37 (#373415), last updated 2009-03-02
93 comments received, 491 comments posted
Basic Account [Gift]
56 Journal Entries, 0 Tags, 19 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 5 Userpics
Basic Info| Name: | Dylan Matthews |
|---|---|
| Birthdate: | 1981-12-12 |
| Location: | Grand Rapids, Minnesota, United States |
BioJack Kerouac sat beside me on a busted rusty iron pole, companion, we
thought the same thoughts of the soul, bleak and blue and sad-eyed
surrounded by the gnarled steel roots of trees of machinery
-Allen Ginsberg; Sunflower Sutra
“There was madness in any direction, at any hour. If not across the Bay, then up the Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda...You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning...
And that, I think, was the handle-that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn't need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting-on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave...
So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look west, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark-that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back."
Hunter S. Thompson
The poetry posted here and on community pages are property of the postee, unless otherwise noted. To use this poetry, you must first have permission from postee.
Comments welcome
thought the same thoughts of the soul, bleak and blue and sad-eyed
surrounded by the gnarled steel roots of trees of machinery
-Allen Ginsberg; Sunflower Sutra
“There was madness in any direction, at any hour. If not across the Bay, then up the Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda...You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning...
And that, I think, was the handle-that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn't need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting-on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave...
So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look west, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark-that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back."
Hunter S. Thompson
The poetry posted here and on community pages are property of the postee, unless otherwise noted. To use this poetry, you must first have permission from postee.
Comments welcome
ConnectInterests (106):
a clockwork orange, a good blonde, aldous huxley, allen ginsberg, antiques, audrey hepburn, beat generation, beat poets, beatniks, better than sex, big sur, blues, bob dylan, books, brave new world, buddhism, catholicism, cats, charlie parker, chet baker, dave matthews band, desolation angels, diane diprima, doors of perception, drawing, drinking, dylan thomas, edgar allen poe, erotic poems, etta james, f. scott fitzgerald, farming, fear and loathing, fiction, fishing, folk music, free-thought, garrison keillor, gnosticism, haikus, harmonica, hemingway, howl, hunter s. thompson, j.d. salinger, jack kerouac, john fowles, journalism, junky, karma, libertarianism, literature, love poems, mandolins, mary jane, meditation, mexico city blues, midnight drives, minnesota, minnesota writers, music, my true love, neal cassady, nirvana, northern minnesota, nudity, on the road, philosophy, piercings, poetry, poetry slams, publishers, reading, religions, revolution, romance, rummy, rural living, sal paradise, sex, shakespeare, silver, smoking, star gazing, sylvia plath, tattoos, tea, the beatles, the doors, the doors of perception, traveling willburys, tristessa, twin cities, vintage photos, vintage sex, vinyl, violin, walking around, weezer, wildlife, william blake, william s. burroughs, wine, woody guthrie, writing, zen
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