Hello Readers,

Lately I've been reading allot of poetry,  paying special attention to allot of Jack Kerouac's work and Allen Ginsberg's Howl.
I wrote one poem that was boiling inside me over my winter break for the past two weeks.  The Title as well as the poem in general might still be subject to some editing;  but so far the title is  "Neck Deep in Strange Age" and the following bit of it is the third and final peice of the poem:

I was once on the path of many

‘am now on the path with few around that I can see

And my age is my scarlet letter

And holy is the night in restless contemplation,

in restless spin,

in restless restlessness

that is restless alone

and is restless with me

And together we sing and Together we Sing.