Poem I just wrote, what do you all think? What do interpret from it? Criticism welcome.?

Question

I found God,

in between the hole in the fence

and the rusted hot overgrown yard

of public financing.

I stole some laws to keep myself warm,

and they did,

I smoked my way into Heaven-lined h**l,

and it was,

I was put away for neglect to property and home,

and I howled my way into the legal offices

chanting “Ommm”

in bearded defiance.

I cast bets at the racetrack praying for a buck

and I lost big,

walked up misty fogged hills passing houses

of Victorian make,

whilst young bohemians were painting

the Void's eyelash

on their own garage of artistic explosions,

and cast back my head to the wind

so that my prayers might actually be heard

by the Host.

I picked sunflowers and placed them in the sun,

I prayed to Christ in the Mosque

much to some annoyance but was accepted,

but when I recited the Koran

in Church that Sunday I was asked to leave.

I thrive on hypocrisy,

and so I found God.

Worked in the fields next to Immigration,

and loved it,

found the mountainous sights enjoyable in my vodka mug

and decided to find my ways in the dark, naked,

sat next to the head of Buddha and laughed and whispered jokes

in the golden morning haze,

told stories to the eager young faces of America’s finest bright minds

and loved every moment of it.

I dropped everything to see the world but was in the end,

Lost in a daze,

I searched on my knees for the bearded flask from which to drink my wine,

And so I left the long-haired woman where she stood,

I found that life is too lost in unhappy minute moments

And there and then decided to breathe in the mountain city air

And to puff on happiness’ warm gun

Lying on my back to the sun that filtered through my garden’s windowsill

And eat chewy candy from India and Europe to delight myself.

And I walked to the marketplace in total silence

Choosing nutritious snacks to chew on whilst I inhaled narcotic

Servitude,

Worshipped in the cool lush rock n’ roll halls stoned, and wept

At conformity,

Listened to the president’s speech on terror and laughed at fear of the invisible,

While changing the channel

To witness the 4,201st death on the list in Iraq and curse the ignorant.

Perhaps this world is flawed,

Actually one could prove it to be true,

But I’m tired of missing life, and, I think,

So are you.

Answer 1

I think it is against God..sorry if you are a Christian but that is just how I myself feel.

Answer 2

ugh heart warming?

Answer 3

Not bad.  It is a beat send-up which has its merits - but there are more beats than Jack and Alan and you do yourself a disservice by not reading anthologies of that time.  Libraries and used book stores are your best friend.  Read deeply!  Check out Ira Cohen or Ed Saunders or Ted Berrigan online.  Check out Charles Henri Ford.  This surreal-neo-beat scene still thrives.  The second generation New York School poets spawned a handmade 'zine underground and I suggest you find your way into it.  Online is only the tip of the iceberg.  Poetry is best when you can fold it and stuff it into your pocket to read later on.  Lastly, try and avoid trite and cute turns of phrase.  They are below your ability.  And drop every instance of "whilst" Elizabeth.  This is the '90's!

Answer 4

I like it.  I can definitely see Ginsberg's influence here.

Answer 5

I enjoyed your poem.

"Tired of missing life"... So am I.

So, am I?

(a lot of things, probably)

Answer 6

Thank you for not being afraid to praise God. Sounds like you have attended life's school of hard knocks and graduated with flying colors. You are very talented, to much to let it go to waste.I would recommend you write more  and publish a book. Go to Lulu.com.

Answer 7

Bravo!

"The sun was like a huge 50-cent piece that someone had poured kerosene on and then had lit with a match, and said, "Here, hold this while I go get a newspaper," and put the coin in my hand, but never came back.""