Lawrence Hurlinspaghetti Bridges
This second cousin of Lamont was a bartender for most of his life but he always harbored secret dreams of becoming a poet. Below is the only known poem attributed to him.
This Poem Is Beat
Like I just nodded out Back in '58 It's just my luck Things were going great We were On The Road Man, we wined and dined A regular Coney Island Of the Mind Yeah, it was back In Kerouac Days Bird flew by night Every blue note ablaze Like a babe I was snoozin' So why'd you wake me Here in nineteen hundred And ninety-three Now I'm all for travellin France or Frisco, you dig But I don't have the right luggage For this Van Winkle gig So the first thing I had to do Was Howl The best minds of my generation Throwin' in the towel They hocked all their bongos They shaved their goatees They locked all the coffeehouses Threw away all the keys So now get me some food, man Something to munch Like a Reality Sandwich Just a nice Naked Lunch Oh, and don't forget the coffee That's right, make mine espresso 'Cause decaf is jive, man I got to confesso Now I'm fully awake So here are the facts I'm still a bit time-lagged Better call Dr. Sax 'Cause I'm feelin' so, feelin' so, Feelin' so mean Skippin' lunch is uncool Skippin' decades, obscene Once "Bohemian" stood for a "gap" So free But here in the '90's, it's some Queen's rhapsody Think back to when Angelheaded Hipsters Were champs Take a look at today You-know-who's on a stamp Hear that bass now swingin solo Without piano or drums A surreal little samba Danced by drunken Dharma bums I feel like that bass string Just a thread of catgut Just a rope of catgut Pulled taut and plucked And so, Daddy-O I just got to split It's been almost ten minutes An overdose - I quit But I've picked my successor He's from a family you might know I'm sure that you've heard of them The Dead Sea Scros So dig it, I'm splitting I'm history, I'm gone This poem just ended But the band plays on
- Lawrence Hurlinspaghetti Bridges