Experimental

A Homage to the Beat Generation and A Trip to Wonderland

In the Arms of Slumber

The highway carries the night to hosts of places far and wide.
We sleep at its side, come morning time we catch our rides.
Nebulae support the skies, traces echo on our weary eyes.
The moon sings lullabies to a sleeping road secreting sighs.

The Beat Awakens

And so a new day is born, the strong sun rises bold and warm,
Long curses are sworn as fresh swarms of mosquitoes form.
All my clothes are worn, seams unravel and my jeans are torn.
I embrace this scorn, by God’s grace I cannot travel and mourn.
My battered sneakers pace, and while the sun hugs my face
I’ll smile to be leaving that place. It won’t matter who gives chase
For I’ll leave no trace as I go, they’ve given their last blows.
Where I’ve been no-one knows; I have risen above my lows.
We all run from our past, wanting to hide, or find peace at last.
Never go back. With truth thrown aside at least freedom is cast.

Origins

Staggering home he swore, as he slurred and sung God’s law.
Alone and prepared, I waited for him to throw his fist to my jaw.
Always pissed; Pop was a preacher; a poor community teacher,
Saw fit to love all creatures but me; I had my mothers features.
One night he hit her hard. She left for good and broke his heart.
Despite my age I took her part; a young child hurt and scarred.
Years on punches were still flung, somehow I held my tongue.
Suddenly, after he swung, through his laughter my father sung:
’’Hit the road Jack (And don’t you come back…)’’
That night a small bag was packed.

The Beat

I’ve ridden with country hicks, fairy guys lusting for prick,
- Who never got it - and rich white kids looking for kicks.
With cigs and whisky shots, I’ve been buzzed and partied a lot,
The Beat’s always hot, but I never found a place nice to stop…

…Until I reached Texas.

Glowing like a torch, the desert sun beat down and scorched
And revealed a gorgeous girl, in the heat, sitting on her porch.
Her locks were blonde and long, her eyes green and strong,
I was lost as she sung her song:
’’Take me down to Mexico City,
Where the boys are fine n’ the gals are pretty,
Their hands are grubby and faces are gritty,
O Take me down to Old Mexico City.’’
Upon her guitar she strummed, softly hummed then sung:
’’Take me down to Mexico City,
Where The Beat plays all day n’ all night
N’ the kids are all way outta sight,
And we’ll dance until the mornin’ light
You don’t need money Babe, that’s alright,
Just take me down to Old Mexico City.’’

The next morning she sure looked pretty,
As we hitchhiked out to Old Mexico City.
(Two thumbs up).

Note

This piece wasn’t based around any particular event or characters from the literature of the Beat Generation. Rather, I hoped to capture the free-wheeling feeling of a youth lost in a big country with infinite possibilities and characters to meet. I also hoped to emulate the troubles and disenchantment with the American dream of the main Beat figureheads – Kerouac, Cassady, Ginsberg and Burroughs.

The script follows a fairly conventional “scrypt” rhyme scheme. Four steady rhymes create the backbone of each couplet, with inner rhymes added to aid the rhythm of the piece. Typically, it has no conventional meter, but is still designed to flow loosely to a beat.

A Trip to Wonderland

Alice was on acid the day the fair came to town.

Glancing at her surrounds she wore a fickle frown. A bewildering galaxy of lights illuminated the night, towering carnival rides filled her sight. Children elated by a candy floss dream ran, skipped and screamed, as against the rides nonchalant gypsies leaned. The air, electrified by all these things meant Alice couldn't get a bearing on her surroundings.

''Lost, little girl?''

Alice whirled around to see a curled Cheshire cat purr, ''yes, it was I who asked that.'' The cat sat up and smoothed its fur, then drew near, ''well, do you know where you are my dear?''

Alice shook her head in disbelief. The feline looked relieved, then grinned, displaying great white teeth. It said:

''You are in Wonderland; a place so powerful and grand that even time's sands cannot command, and where nothing ever happens quite as planned. It will fill you with fear, for you shouldn't even be here,'' the creature seemed to sneer.

''I...I want to go home...'' Alice stuttered, and the cat muttered, ''you can't do it alone. There is but one soul who knows that road and... Here he comes now!''

From the ground somehow, a rabbit came clattering out. He was four foot two, with red eyes, black boots and a tailor made suit. Letting out a shout he cried, ''I'M LATE!!!'' and with out hesitating the rabbit pounded the opposite way.

''Well, don't wait,'' hissed the cat, ''you'll be missed if you don't go back, follow rabbit unto the track.''

Alice ran without looking back.

***

The rabbit went through a hole in the rear of a circus tent, through which Alice obediently bent to keep the creature near. She crawled a little way and was shocked and amazed to find herself spotlighted in centre stage. The audience around consisted of a thousand clowns on downers; smiles all upside down.

“I’M LATE!!!” a voice spoke, and searching, Alice scoped, until she noticed the Rabbit above, on a tightrope. To the ladder she ran and an epic climb began; as she knew, in Wonderland nothing goes to plan, for as she rose the ladder grew. By the time she reached the peak she had scaled at least a hundred feet, and the clowns had poured from their seats.

“ALICE DON’T RUN AWAY, WE JUST WANT YOU TO STAY, WON’T YOU COME BACK AND PLAY?” hummed the crowd of clowns drowned in frowns. They too climbed higher in chase as Alice took to the wire, the rabbit leading by paces, and looking back to see her face. It opened its mouth to say “I’ll die before I show you the way!”

“That’s fine then, I’ll kill you, you swine.”

Rabbit reached the end of the line with nowhere to hide, and with Alice following from behind he jumped from the sky.

Alice landed on a trampoline, but as though in a dream, didn’t bounce, nor hit the ground, but merely continued to sink. Sink. Sink. Sinking.

THUMP.

The fabric tore and with a jump, Alice landed, huddled in a lump. She swore as she saw a hall of mirrors, wall to wall reflective surfaces. Some raised tall, some stout and small, but all revealed to Alice’s eyes her body in a different guise. None told lies. They showed what the future could hold as Alice grew old, and everyday life gnawed at her soul. She began to lose control; her mind was phased and grew rapidly crazed as she scrambled for a way out of the glass maze. With a shout she spotted the rabbit’s snout, and pounced on him until he dragged her out.

Outside in the night the rabbit shook free, and in a flash dashed away to safety.

Alice sung; “run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run. Here comes Alice with her gun, gun, gun. Bang, bang, bang, bang goes Alice’s gun, so run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run.” She blew upon two raised fingers, as though traces of smoke still lingered.

Where rabbit lead she followed, and was confronted by a shed, guarded by three policemen who said: “This shed you’ve found is out of bounds,” as they glowered down.

“But rabbit went in, and I’m simply following him for he is the key to my redemption!”

Well, how they laughed, “guagh-guagh-guagh.” Alice was at a dead end at last, and she couldn’t get past.

“Please, Mr. Pigs, won’t you let me in?”

“Not by the hairs on our chinny-chin chins!”

With all the strength she had left, she filled her lungs with a deep breath, and ferociously emptied her chest.

Well, how they laughed, “guagh-guagh-guagh.” Alice was still at dead end and couldn’t get past.

“If you want to get in, we’d rather you blew something harder,” said the pigs with a grin, as saliva rolled down their obese chins.

Alice knelt down and unzipped their flies, then gave a cry and burst past to squeeze inside. The rabbit hadn’t found a place to hide, escaping through a hole on the other side, and seemingly shrinking in size. As Alice grazed through the way, the acid seemed to be fading away.

“Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run. Here comes Alice with her gun, gun, gun. Bang, bang, bang, bang goes Alice’s gun, so run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run.”

They were by a busy road, the shrunken rabbit had lost its clothes but the gun was loaded. Alice released her thumb, the trigger was pressed and a lead bullet hit the rabbit dead in the chest. Reality was messed; he didn’t stop or die, but continued to fly onto the road to be squashed by a car passing by.

The acid was gone, Alice was back home; a mind cracked and alone.

“Run Alice, run Alice, run, run, run. Here comes the rabbit with his gun, gun, gun. Bang, bang, bang, bang goes the rabbit’s gun, so run Alice, run Alice, run, run, run.”

Alice lifted her two-finger gun to her head, pulled the trigger and…

Bang.

Alice was dead.

Note

Alice in Wonderland is a wilfully imaginative tale, and this is my take at an adult version.  

In terms of the hip-hop inspired movement of ‘scrypt’, this is far less conventional than A Homage to the Beat Generation. There are no traditional couplets, and the layout is that of prose. This format allows a much less rigid rhyme scheme, and there is no strong pattern carried throughout. It still flows therefore, and there is much more room for inner rhymes, but it would be difficult to perform over a beat. It demonstrates a movement away from the music of hip-hop towards a narrative driven style. However, few choose to write in such a format.

James Byrom