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Badger Poetry

Alan Zimbabwe
John Dillinger
Others
Clarence Peabody
Summer Fauve
Nick Green

I dreamed that old Tim Leary came to talk to me,
And we spoke in tongues electric over Kool-aid LSD,
he told me of the passion, of the prisons and police,
And his search for deeper meaning from the sages of the East,
Of Pot and pills, and Mescal, of the circuits of the brain...
And the difficulty of telling, the mad from the insane,
He said "Re-learn your history! From any secret school,
But if you're looking for Illumination, go to Blackpool.

Then the ghost of  Allen Ginsberg came a-knocking at the dawn,
Howling that again he slumped Oh somewhere to be born,
And amid his ringing couplets and extended deadhead verse,
He stripped his clothes and struck a pose and offered up a curse,
Saying "Damn the dusty libraries, and crumble them to sand...
And let the ages slip on through the Empires girded hand,
And also let all laws and wars, each edict, every rule,
But if you're looking for Illumination, go to Blackpool.

Then a whisp named William Burroughs wafted in to join the din,
With the casual demeanour of a junkie fully pinned...
He grinned at Al and Timmy, and said "Put this on your head..
My shot is much improved, and besides your both now dead.
I have a hunch your naked lunch is simply a charade,
And none shall find an answer till all debts are finally paid...
In the tarot every quester is known to be the fool,
So if you're looking for Illumination, go to Blackpool.

So finally Neil Cassady descended in my dream,
To pass the time and share a line, but not quite as it seems,
Between him and Al, and Tim and Bill, I thought I heard a voice...
"There's a million different highways, but you only get one choice..
To walk among the Angels you must learn the Devils tongue,
Turn around the mirrors, you won't like what you've become.
Wake up! This dream is ending now, these ghosts are all too cool,
When I look for Illumination, I go to Blackpool.