Howl and Rock'n'Roll

Flash Fictionation

It was not coming through with the beating of his guitar with his fingers with bleeding of his hands that’s all right that’s all right it’s strange things happen down here with a drink of Jack Daniels and soda on fire as a publicity stunt. That’s all right Moma. It is nasty in gold Go and there on Beale St. The future was to be rock’n’roll with boneyard salad and franchise golden arches on Kroc drive-in McD’s with a milkshake and fries.

It was a burst of energy up in the illuminated realm as a dream destroyed by madness travelling West towards God moaning to the beatnik’s bop bongo Louisiana Hayride. Baby baby baby. Coda with no pages and runonsentencestilltheclockanautograghautograghautogragh in the air with time counted on his knees. Rattle those pots and pans. Let the times roll with rigid rules. Stamp out individualism but not giving an inch.

It was liberating on the road with Elvis and Jesus to Motown and San Francisco.