Orphean Spirit

I saw the best actors of our generation imitating Allen Ginsberg
James Franco and Daniel Radcliffe bearded and wild
prancing Satyrian before cameras of our watching eyes
angel-headed hipsters channeling his Orphean spirit on ancient heavenly stage
of Dionysian worship of manly warriors against ignorance and fear
who plunged howling into eyeless abysmal visions of holy breath
to proclaim magnificent prophecies of self-actualization
outside borders of the silver screen on crowded streets
dodging cars of power and glory and fame and greed
where towers of Moloch burn over shimmering asphalt cathedrals
though ten thousand nameless poets crucified on telephone poles
sea to polluted sea babble meaningless spells of confessional despair
to high priests of advertising and pharmaceuticals and policies
then gather with saints at the river that flows by the superbowl dome
where angels in mascara red tears sing star tangled honor
and Buddha floats laughing over broken television tubes.