Collected Poems 1947-1997 - Ginsberg Allen - Страница 178

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fifty years overweight—while others I hate practice sainthood in Himalayas

or run the petrochemical atomic lamplit machines, by whose power

I slumber cook my meat & write these verses captive of N.Y.C.

What’s my sickness, flu virus or Selfhood infected swollen sore

confronting the loath’d work of poetic flattery: Gurus, Rock stars

Penthoused millionaires, White House alrightniks crowding my brain

with orders & formulae, insults & smalltalk, threats & dollars

Whose sucker am I, the media run by rich whitemen like myself, jew

intellectuals afraid of poverty bust screaming beaten uncontrolled behind bars

or the black hole of narcotics Cops & brutal Mafiosi, thick men in dark hats,

hells angels in blue military garb or wall street cashmere drag

hiding iron muscles of money, so the street is full of potholes, I’m afraid

to go out at night around the block to look at the moon in the Lower East Side

where stricken junkies break their necks in damp hallways of

abandoned buildings gutted & blackwindowed from old fires. I’m afraid

to write my thoughts down lest I libel Nelson Rockefeller, Fidel

Castro, Chogyam Trungpa, Louis Ginsberg & Naomi, Kerouac or Peter O.

yea Henry Kissinger & Richard Helms, faded ghosts of Power and Poesy

that people my brain with paranoia, my best friend shall be Nameless.

Whose public speech is this I write? What stupid vast Complaint!

For what impotent professor’s ears, which Newsman’s brainwave? What jazz king’s devil blues?

Is this Immortal history to tell tales of 20th Century to striplings

naked centuries hence? To get laid by some brutal queen who’ll

beat my hairy buttocks punishment in a College Dorm? To show my ass

to god? To grovel in magic tinsel & glitter on stinking powdered pillows?

Agh! Who’ll I read this to like a fool! Who’ll applaud these lies

December 16, 1977

Ballade of Poisons

With oil that streaks streets a magic color,

With soot that falls on city vegetables

With basement sulfurs & coal black odor

With smog that purples suburbs’ sunset hills

With Junk that feebles black & white men’s wills

With plastic bubbles aeons will dissolve

With new plutoniums that only resolve

Their poison heat in quarter million years,

With pesticides that round food Chains revolve

May your soul make home, may your eyes weep tears.

With freak hormones in chicken & soft egg

With panic red dye in cow meat burger

With mummy med’cines, nitrate in sliced pig

With sugar’d cereal kids scream for murder,

With Chemic additives that cause Cancer

With bladder and mouth in your salami,

With Strontium Ninety in milks of Mommy,

With sex voices that spill beer thru your ears

With Cups of Nicotine till you vomit

May your soul make home, may your eyes weep tears.

With microwave toaster television

With Cadmium lead in leaves of fruit trees

With Trade Center’s nocturnal emission

With Coney Island’s shore plopped with Faeces

While blue Whales sing in high infrequent seas

With Amazon worlds with fish in ocean

Washed in Rockefellers greasy Potion

With oily toil fueled with atomic fears

With CIA tainting World emotion

May your soul make home, may your eyes weep tears.

          Envoi

President, ’spite cockroach devotion,

Folk poisoned with radioactive lotion,

’Spite soulless bionic energy queers

May your world move to healthy emotion,

Make your soul at home, let your eyes weep tears.

January 12, 1978

Lack Love

Love wears down to bare truth

My heart hurt me much in youth

Now I hear my real heart beat

Strong and hollow thump of meat

I felt my heart wrong as an ache

Sore in dreams and raw awake

I’d kiss each new love on the chest

Trembling hug him breast to breast

Kiss his belly, kiss his eye

Kiss his ruddy boyish thigh

Kiss his feet kiss his pink cheek

Kiss behind him naked meek

Now I lie alone, and a youth

Stalks my house, he won’t in truth

Come to bed with me, instead

Loves the thoughts inside my head

He knows how much I think of him

Holds my heart his painful whim

Looks thru me with mocking eyes

Steals my feelings, drinks & lies

Till I see Love’s empty Truth

Think back on heart broken youth

Hear my heart beat red in bed

Thick and living, love rejected.

New York, February 8, 1978, 3 A.M.

Father Guru

Father Guru     unforlorn

Heart beat Guru whom I scorn

Empty Guru Never Born

Sitting Guru every morn

Friendly Guru chewing corn

Angry Guru Faking Porn

Guru Guru Freely torn

Garment Guru neatly worn

Guru Head short hair shorn

Absent Guru Eyes I mourn

Guru of Duncan Guru of Dorn

Ginsberg Guru like a thorn

Goofy Guru Lion Horn

Lonely Guru Unicorn

O Guru whose slave I’m sworn

Save me Guru Om Ah Hum

Austin, February 14, 1978

Manhattan May Day Midnight

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