Beat with me


Frantic snail of the libidinous watermelon

Whirling crystal of the blonde’s breast

Hanging colt of the bearded Protestant

Ford of my dreams…


I’m calling the soul of the Spaniard–Apalachee

– Profound –

sweating in metallurgies

whose kids play of Barbies and Kens


I’m calling

the generation that hides vibrators from their kids

and represses MASTURBATIOOON


I’m calling the stupor of Napalm

Heir of the ancient Coca – and I’m calling “COLA”, its cousin


I’m calling you

You are needed on the front

“where the Gospel has not yet reached”


Come on, my friend

Beat mit me