Collected Poems 1947-1997 - Ginsberg Allen - Страница 222
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of my eightieth birthday
and dreamed all the red
mountain of mucus accumulated
round me
Himalaya of suffering gelatinous
slop my lifetime since 1976
when the right side my face
drooped dead muscles
’cause an O.D. on Doctor’s Antibiotic
inflamed my seventh cranial nerve inside
its cheekbone
& left me dry-nosed with crooked
smile & sneaky finger
Probing the irritation in the
middle of my face
walking daydreaming in the school hall—
That White boy in a two-piece suit
Hotel Astor bar on Times Square
I took home one night in 1946
he fucked me naked in the ass
till I smelled brown excrement
staining his cock
& tried to get up from bed to go to the
toilet a minute
but he held me down & kept pumping
at me, serious & said
“No I don’t want to stop I like it dirty
like this.”
April 30, 1982
Maturity
Young I drank beer & vomited green bile
Older drank wine vomited blood red
Now I vomit air
July 1982
“Throw Out the Yellow Journalists of Bad Grammar & Terrible Manner”
for Anne Waldman
who report Ten Commandments & Golden Rule forgetting Thou shalt not bear false witness Do unto others as you’d have them do unto you
and say the Man got crucified for insulting the Sanhedrin at a Victory Dance in the bombed out madhouse in Beirut
Out! Out! The Mad Correspondent who headlined “Madman or Messiah? He Died of Bad Pork” the night of Tathagata’s Parinirvana
or the snide reporter with yellow teeth who asked the Big Question, “Kerouac couldn’t write, so what’d he do it for, money?”
or the Time stringer who asks “You could say it was a nostalgia Trip, wouldn’t you?”
as you fly off to the moon on your translucent sexual wings forever
and the wire-service fellow ex-Harvard, “This business about Secret Police, why would you care, successful Abstract Expressionist painter, got a grudge to work out on your parents?”
Out! Out! into the Buddhafields, among stars to wander forever, weightless without a headline, without thought, without newspapers to read by the light of the Galaxies.
August 10, 1982
GOING TO THE WORLD OF THE DEAD
Going to the World of the Dead
Going to the World of the Dead
Stalin & Hitler in Bed
Gone inside of your head
Anybody got any bread?
FBI papers to shred?
Eisenhower’s ghost on a sled
Going to the world of the dead
Everybody gives you good head
Millionaires of Detroit
Millionaires of Chicago
Millionaires of New York
Millionaires of Hollywood
Let go of your money Ho Ho Ho
Let go your Big Poetry Let go Let go
Let go of your cars Ho Ho Ho
Let go your Cocaine Ho Ho Ho
Let go your meat Let go Let go
Let go Movie Picture Ho Ho Ho
Let go your Diamonds Ho Ho Ho
Let go your Dollars Let go yr Gold
Let go your Houses Your Bodies Let go
Let go your Souls Ho Ho Ho
Let go God Buddha Let go
Let go Allah Let go Let go
Let go your Armies Ho Ho Ho
Let go your war Ho Ho Ho
Let go your Holy Land Let go
Let go Palestine P.L.O.
Jews Let go Let go Let go
Let go Israel Ho Ho Ho
Let go Apocalypse Let go Let go
Let go Yr Bomb Ho Ho Ho
Your Nuclear Bomb Ho Ho Ho
Let go your Disaster your Death Let go
Ho Ho Ho Ho Ho Ho
Ho Ho Ho Ho Ho Ho
Millionaires of Mexico Ho Ho Ho
Millionaires of Nicaragua Let go Let go
August 22, 1982, 6:30 P.M.
Guasave-Las Mochis bus past soya & cotton fields where red flags flew over plastic huts squatting by highway side
Irritable Vegetable
Don’t send me letters Don’t send me poems
Too busy sick to write poetry Sky’s covered with gray clouds
Perfect for photography
I have brain metal fatigue Knee jerk aesthetic tears
So you got a junk habit
So you need a recommendation to Purgatory U.
So you’re working with Fort Collins’ Nuclear Freeze Campaign
So you got hi blood pressure Your big toe hurts
Someday you’ll die
So you sing Hare Krishna Hare Krishna Krishna Krishna Hare Hare
Hare Rama Hare Rama Rama Rama Hare Hare
So you work on the top floor of the Empire State Building
You’re a jerk
You’re a hypocrite who eats hot dogs.
October 28, 1982
Thoughts Sitting Breathing II
When I sat in my bedroom for devotions, meditations & prayers
my Gomden on a sheepskin rug beside the mirrored closet,
white curtains morning sunlit, Friday Rocky Mountain News “Market Retreats in Busiest Day”
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