Collected Poems 1947-1997 - Ginsberg Allen - Страница 158

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Hopeless two million deaths in Indochina, the half million Communists assassinated in Indonesia? Slaughter of Innocents in Mexico City, Massacres of Wounded Knee Mylai Lidice Attica, 15 million never came back from Siberia

the jail murder of George Jackson, Sacco & Vanzetti electrocuted Rosenbergs, bullet assassination of Kennedy, Luther King, Malcolm X, the burning of Zwingli, hemlock death of Socrates the headless catastrophe Jayne Mansfield’s autocrash & Jimmy Dean’s highway wreck-aged body—

Hopeless, the poems of Dante & Shakespeare, such stuff as dreams are made of, Burroughs’ Orwell systems, Spengler & Vico’s cycles, Padmasambhava Krishnamurti—empty, hopeless

as the great oilfields of Persia

reservoirs of petrochemicals under Alaskan permafrost & Indochinese ocean wave

petroleum cracker tanks in Venezuela & robot pumps of Los Angeles,

brokendown cars on the farm, the tire-less Ford,

Oldsmobile sans batteries, dead corpse of Myron the neighbor Farmer the live corpse of Ginsberg the prophet

Hopeless.

New York, March 10, 1973

Under the world there’s a lot of ass, a lot of cunt

a lot of mouths and cocks,

under the world there’s a lot of come, and a lot of saliva dripping into brooks,

There’s a lot of Shit under the world, flowing beneath cities into rivers,

a lot of urine floating under the world,

a lot of snot in the world’s industrial nostrils, sweat under the world’s iron arm, blood

gushing out of the world’s breast,

endless lakes of tears, seas of sick vomit rushing between hemispheres

floating toward Sargasso, old oily rags and brake fluids, human gasoline—

Under the world there’s pain, fractured thighs, napalm burning in black hair, phosphorus eating elbows to bone

insecticides contaminating oceantide, plastic dolls floating across Atlantic,

Toy soldiers crowding the Pacific, B-52 bombers choking jungle air with vaportrails and brilliant flares

Robot drones careening over rice terraces dropping cluster grenades, plastic pellets spray into flesh, dragontooth mines & jellied fires fall on straw roofs and water buffalos,

perforating village huts with barbed shrapnel, trenchpits filled with fuel-gas-poison’d explosive powders—

Under the world there’s broken skulls, crushed feet, cut eyeballs, severed fingers, slashed jaws,

Dysentery; homeless millions, tortured hearts, empty souls.

April 1973

Returning to the Country for a Brief Visit

Annotations to Amitendranath Tagore’s Sung Poetry

“In later days, remembering this I shall certainly go mad.”

Reading Sung poems, I think of my poems to Neal

dead few years now, Jack underground

invisible—their faces rise in my mind.

Did I write truthfully of them? In later times

I saw them little, not much difference they’re dead.

They live in books and memory, strong as on earth.

“I do not know who is hoarding all this rare work.”

Old One the dog stretches stiff legged,

soon he’ll be underground. Spring’s first fat bee

buzzes yellow over the new grass and dead leaves.

What’s this little brown insect walking zigzag

across the sunny white page of Su Tung-p’o’s poem?

Fly away, tiny mite, even your life is tender—

I lift the book and blow you into the dazzling void.

“I fear that others may know I am here;

An immortal may appear to welcome me.”

Right leg broken, can’t walk around

visit the fishpond to touch the cold water,

tramp thru willows to the lonely meadow across the brook—

here comes a metal landrover, brakes creaking hello.

“You live apart on rivers and seas …”

You live in apartments by rivers and seas

Spring comes, waters flow murky, the salt wave’s covered with oily dung

Sun rises, smokestacks cover the roofs with black mist

winds blow, city skies are clear blue all afternoon

but at night the full moon hesitates behind brick.

How will all these millions of people worship the Great Mother?

When all these millions of people die, will they recognize the Great Father?

“I always remember the year I made it over the mountain pass.”

Robins and sparrows warble in mild spring dusk

sun sets behind green pines in the little valley

High over my roof gray branches sway gently under motionless clouds

Hunters guns sounded three times in the hillside aspen

The house sat silent as I looked above my book,

quiet old poems about the Yi & Tsangpo Rivers—

I always remember the spring I climbed Glacier Peak with Gary.

Cherry Valley, April 20, 1973

Night Gleam

Over and over thru the dull material world the call is made

over and over thru the dull material world I make the call

O English folk, in Sussex night, thru black beech tree branches

the full moon shone at three AM, I stood in under wear on the lawn—

I saw a mustached English man I loved, with athlete’s breast and farmer’s arms,

I lay in bed that night many loves beating in my heart

sleepless hearing songs of generations electric returning intelligent memory

to my frame, and so went to dwell again in my heart

and worship the Lovers there, love’s teachers, youths and poets who live forever

in the secret heart, in the dark night, in the full moon, year after year

over & over thru the dull material world the call is made.

July 16, 1973

What I’d Like to Do

Retire abandon world sd Swami Bhaktivedanta my age 47 approaching half-century

Go to San Marino see Blake’s vision of Moloch, go to Manchester see Moloch

Visit Blake’s works all over World West, study prophetic Books interpret Blake unify Vision

Step in same river twice

Build hermitage of wood and stone with porch 3000 foot up Rockies, Sierras, Catskills fine soft forests

sit crosslegged straight spine belly relaxed heart humming Ah each exhalation

Inspiration established compose English Apocalypse American science Greek rhythm Tibetan mantra Blues

long hours half-lotus-legged at desk window pine trees omming in rainy wind

Spend three years in solitude Naropa’s Six Doctrines mastered and another hundred days intermediate State twixt Death and Birth

Read Milton’s Paradise Lost decipher Egyptian Book of Dead and Annutara Tantra etc.

Compose poems to the wind

Chant into electric microphones, pacify Rock, enrich

skull emptiness with vocal salami taxicabs, magnetize nervous systems,

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