The Beats

In my youth, I always liked the way

Beat poetry cavorted on the page...

Rhythms all irregular, of course,

And not a rhyme scheme there to save your soul!

But with a chanting quality - unprosaic -

Of never becoming merely a boring stream

Of less-than-consciousness lined up discreetly

To please a crowd of academic critics,

Instead, an onslaught of outrageousness

Up in your face and catching at your ears.

With zero fear of speaking loud and clear.