July 2, 2009

Yell: Part One Continued

Yell

For All the Lost Brothers

A Bro Tribue Poem to Allen Ginsburg's "Howel"

Part One: Continued

Who nuked sardine and brie quesadillas, their mothers borsht and day old bread after an all night party,
Who finished off the cans of beer in the morning,
Who heard about Che and his motorcycle and decided to drive across the country, but got an entry level job at their dad’s law firm,

Yell 

For the Lost Brother

I

I have seen the most awesome bras' of my frat 
pummeled by some crazy shit, all bug-eyed, 
having to take the buss into to the hood 
to score some roids, 

Man pretty brosefs trying to kick it old school 
on a campus full of posers, 

Who hungover and their allowance cut and their most
kick ass hat stolen and blown out of their minds sat 
playing Madden '09, 

Who tripped on shrooms and saw the Cowboy's offensive line 
acting shady on top of the dorm glowing, 

Who never went to class not stoned in some
stuck up liberal town with asshole profs, 

Who got kick out of one college after the next for 
partying to much and breaking shit,

Who were sloths smelling like b.o. deleting po-
rn from their computer listening to their dormmate
and his girlfriend going at it, 

Who got kicked in their nutz for stealing booze 
from the sorority house, 

Who blacked out in Vegas or spring breaked in Cancun, 
died or went to the ER every semester, 

With career goals, with chicks, with booze, with hazing 
rush and pledges and endless games of beer pong,

Can't see with minds all messed up 
the flashing lights caught between Home and Atlantic City 
lighting up your dorm,  

Hangover holiday of cafeterias, intramural field at sunrise, 
Natie Ice vomit over balconies, main drag driving after 
nights of drinking, waking up on Sunday on the cold cool quad, 

Who  roadtriped from Louisville to Chicago 
jacked up on Red Bull until hitting a deer 
broken down dead in bumbleville drained of thought 
in the light of the Piggy Wiggly parking lot, 

Who sank all night in the futon of Dirty's 
scrapped up out of the pillows and finished last nights keg 
to the laptop speakers of Gateway,

Who would not shut up about their ride from bar crawl to bar 
to house party to the Quad to dorm , 


(I will be releasing this poem in segments not section by section, it would just be to long for one post)

Read the original in the comments. 

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