Collected Poems 1947-1997 - Ginsberg Allen - Страница 131

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Hanson Baldwin is a Military Ass-Kisser.

Dead Neal was born in Salt Lake, & Jim Fitzpatrick’s dead.

Flowers die, & flowers rise red petaled on the field.

Anger, red petal’d flower in my body

Detroit’s lake from a mile above chemical muddy,

streams of gray waste fogging the surface to the center,

more than half the lake discolored metallic—

Cancerous reproductions the house flats rows of bee boxes, DNA Molecular Patterns

microscopic reticulations topt w/Television Antennae

and the horizon edged with gray gas clouds from East to West unmoved by wind.

They fucked up the planet! Hanson Baldwin Fucked up the Planet all by himself, emitted a long Military gas cloud Dec 26 27 28 1967 in NY Times.

“Purely military considerations” he told TV—

Till Gov. LaSalle sd/ the Prexy cdnt be peaceful till election time,

as Baldwin nodded agree.

A bunch of fat & thin Schizophrenics running the planet thoughtwaves. Shit, Violence, bullets in the brain Unavailing.

We’re in it too deep to pull out.

Waiting for an orgasm, Mr. Baldwin?

Yes, waiting for an orgasm that’s all.

Give ’em all the orgasms they want.

Give ’em orgasms, give Hanson Baldwin his lost orgasms.

Give NY Times, give Reader’s Digest their old orgasms back.

It’s a gold crisis! not enuf orgasms to go round

“I take care of other people’s business” said th’ old man sleeping next seat,

Wallets & pens in his inside pocket green tie black suit boots,

“Ever since the world began Gold is the measure of Solidarity.”

Golden light over Iowa, silver cloud floor, sky roof blue deep

rayed by Western Sun set brightness from the center of the Solar System.

Neal born in Salt Lake. Died in San Miguel, met in Denver loved in Denver—

“Down in Denver/down in Denver/all I did was die.”

J. Kerouac, ’48

Airplanes, a pain in the neck. Thru Heaven, a heavy roar,

vaportrails to the sun moving behind Utah’s valley wall.

Give Heaven orgasms, give Krishna all your orgasms, give yr orgasms to the clouds. Great Salt Lake!

Fitzpatrick sobbed a lot in New York & Utah, his nervous frame racked with red eyed pain.

Farewell Sir Jim, in shiny heaven, bodiless as Neal’s bodiless …

Brainwash cried Romney, the Governor of Pollution,

Michigan’s Lakes covered w/green slime

               — “The people now see thru the Administration’s continuous brainwashing.”

Chi Trib Mar 16 ’68 AP dispatch

Mind is fragments … whatever you can remember from last year’s Time Magazine, this years sunset or gray cloudmass over Nebraska,

Leroi Jones’ deep scar brown skin at left temple hairline …

… Don McNeil emerging from Grand Central w/6 stitches in Forehead pushed thru plateglass by police, his presscard bloodied.

Deeper into gray clouds, there must be invisible farms, invisible farmers walking up and down rolling cloud-hills.

“A hole in its head” … another World, America, Vietnam.

The Martians have holes in their head, like Moore’s statuary.

& if Dolphin-like Saturnian tongues are invisible & their ecstatic language irrelevant to the Gold Supply

We’ll murder ’em like 100,000,000 Bison—

Do the Buffalo Dance in the Jetplane over Nebraska! Bring back the Gay ’90s.

Gobble gobble sd/ Sanders

& Turkeys’ hormone-white-meat drumsticks poison the glands of suburban kiddies Thanksgiving.

On their bicycles w/ poison glands & DDT livers, hallucinating Tiny Vietnams on TV.

Clouds rifts, Gold orgasms in the West,

Nebraska’s Steppes herding broken cloud-flocks—

Sun at plane’s nose, izzat the Missouri breaking the plains apart? Council Bluffs & Great Platte gone?

Oh Rockies already? Snow in granite cracks & gray crags.

Hanson Baldwin covered w/ Snowflakes.

Red oxide in air & earth, sunset flowers in clouds, Anger in the Heart,

“Croakers & doubters” … Napalm & Mace: Dogs!

Earth ripples, river snakes, iron horse tracks, car paths thin

—Wasatch peak snows, north crags’ springtime white wall over desert-lake brightness—

Salt Lake streets at dusk flowing w/ electric gold. Beautiful Million winking lights!

Neal was born in Paradise!

March 30, 1968

Kiss Ass

Kissass is the Part of Peace

America will have to Kissass Mother Earth

Whites have to Kissass Blacks, for Peace & Pleasure,

Only Pathway to Peace, Kissass

Houston, April 24, 1968

Manhattan Thirties Flash

Long stone streets inanimate, repetitive machine Crash cookie-cutting

dynamo rows of soulless replica Similitudes brooding tank-like in Army Depots

Exactly the same exactly the same exactly the same with no purpose but grimness

& overwhelming force of robot obsession, our slaves are not alive

& we become their sameness as they surround us—the long stone streets inanimate,

crowds of executive secretaries alighting from subway 8:30 A.M.

bloodflow in cells thru elevator arteries & stairway glands to typewriter consciousness,

Con Ed skyscraper clock-head gleaming gold-lit at sun dusk.

1968

Please Master

Please master can I touch your cheek

please master can I kneel at your feet

please master can I loosen your blue pants

please master can I gaze at your golden haired belly

please master can I gently take down your shorts

please master can I have your thighs bare to my eyes

please master can I take off my clothes below your chair

please master can I kiss your ankles and soul

please master can I touch lips to your hard muscle hairless thigh

please master can I lay my ear pressed to your stomach

please master can I wrap my arms around your white ass

please master can I lick your groin curled with blond soft fur

please master can I touch my tongue to your rosy asshole

please master may I pass my face to your balls,

please master, please look into my eyes,

please master order me down on the floor,

please master tell me to lick your thick shaft

please master put your rough hands on my bald hairy skull

please master press my mouth to your prick-heart

please master press my face into your belly, pull me slowly strong thumbed

till your dumb hardness fills my throat to the base

till I swallow & taste your delicate flesh-hot prick barrel veined Please

Master push my shoulders away and stare in my eye, & make me bend over the table

please master grab my thighs and lift my ass to your waist

please master your hand’s rough stroke on my neck your palm down my backside

please master push me up, my feet on chairs, till my hole feels the breath of your spit and your thumb stroke

please master make me say Please Master Fuck me now Please

Master grease my balls and hairmouth with sweet vaselines

please master stroke your shaft with white creams

please master touch your cock head to my wrinkled self-hole

please master push it in gently, your elbows enwrapped round my breast

your arms passing down to my belly, my penis you touch w/ your fingers

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