BEATNIK VERSE

Maybe I’m a Pariah

Or just bongolicious, Daddy-O

Street Art in Redondo Beach. Photo by Mark Tulin

I’m not someone who fits in
If I try, I’m only fooling myself
That’s doing the impossible —
it pains my free-spirited identity
and quakes my soul with dishonor
to be just one of the guys.

I’m a deportee, a refugee,
a rogue and a castaway
I’m an ape with a paintbrush
and a donkey who kicks ass.

I look at other people
who love to belong,
which seems so effortless
like they were taught early on
to give themselves up
for the greater good.

I can only shake my head —
I’m a pariah, a beatnik,
an expat who lives in a one-room flat
and who has many past lives,
equally as despised.

Maybe I was born
without a group soul,
without what Jung called —
a collective unconscious,
or the part where you betray yourself
for the benefit of others.