The Song Of America Hear I Through You, Allen Ginsberg Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

The song of America
Hear I
Through you
Allen Ginsberg

The howl of a generation,
The beat and vibe of it,
The loitering and fluctuation of it.

They going with the cigar packs,
Smoking and going
Just like the gypsies,
Bootleggers, drug lords and addicts
Those pedestrians.

Tired with materialism and materialistic pleasures,
Where, where are they going,
Going to unmindful of, oblivious of all that,
Those generations
Young and gleeful, but sad and tense,
Definitely under pressure, psychic and mental?