Home | Community | Message Board

MRCA Tyroler Gluckspilze
This site includes paid links. Please support our sponsors.


Welcome to the Shroomery Message Board! You are experiencing a small sample of what the site has to offer. Please login or register to post messages and view our exclusive members-only content. You'll gain access to additional forums, file attachments, board customizations, encrypted private messages, and much more!

Shop: Unfolding Nature Unfolding Nature: Being in the Implicate Order   PhytoExtractum Buy Bali Kratom Powder   Kraken Kratom Red Vein Kratom   Original Sensible Seeds USA West Coast Strains   Bridgetown Botanicals CBD Concentrates

Jump to first unread post Pages: 1
InvisibleCorporal Kielbasa

Registered: 05/29/04
Posts: 17,235
Howl a poem By Allen Ginsberg
    #5908594 - 07/28/06 10:52 AM (17 years, 6 months ago)

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by
madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn
looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly
connection to the starry dynamo in the machin-
ery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat
up smoking in the supernatural darkness of
cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities
contemplating jazz,
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and
saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tene-
ment roofs illuminated,
who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes
hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy
among the scholars of war,
who were expelled from the academies for crazy &
publishing obscene odes on the windows of the
skull,
who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burn-
ing their money in wastebaskets and listening
to the Terror through the wall,
who got busted in their pubic beards returning through
Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,
who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in
Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their
torsos night after night
with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, al-
cohol and cock and endless balls,
incomparable blind; streets of shuddering cloud and
lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of
Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the mo-
tionless world of Time between,
Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery
dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops,
storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon
blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree
vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brook-
lyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,
who chained themselves to subways for the endless
ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine
until the noise of wheels and children brought
them down shuddering mouth-wracked and
battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance
in the drear light of Zoo,
who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's
floated out and sat through the stale beer after
noon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack

of doom on the hydrogen jukebox,
who talked continuously seventy hours from park to
pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brook-
lyn Bridge,
lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping
down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills
off Empire State out of the moon,
yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts
and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks
and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars,
whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days
and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the
Synagogue cast on the pavement,
who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a
trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic
City Hall,
suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grind-
ings and migraines of China under junk-with-
drawal in Newark's bleak furnished room,
who wandered around and around at midnight in the
railroad yard wondering where to go, and went,
leaving no broken hearts,
who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing
through snow toward lonesome farms in grand-
father night,
who studied Plotinus Poe St. John of the Cross telep-
athy and bop kabbalah because the cosmos in-
stinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas,
who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking vis-
ionary indian angels who were visionary indian
angels,
who thought they were only mad when Baltimore
gleamed in supernatural ecstasy,
who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Okla-
homa on the impulse of winter midnight street
light smalltown rain,
who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston
seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the
brilliant Spaniard to converse about America
and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship
to Africa,
who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving
behind nothing but the shadow of dungarees
and the lava and ash of poetry scattered in fire
place Chicago,
who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the
F.B.I. in beards and shorts with big pacifist
eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incom-
prehensible leaflets,
who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting
the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism,
who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union
Square weeping and undressing while the sirens
of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed
down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also
wailed,
who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked
and trembling before the machinery of other
skeletons,
who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight
in policecars for committing no crime but their
own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication,
who howled on their knees in the subway and were
dragged off the roof waving genitals and manu-
scripts,
who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly
motorcyclists, and screamed with joy,
who blew and were blown by those human seraphim,
the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean
love,
who balled in the morning in the evenings in rose
gardens and the grass of public parks and
cemeteries scattering their semen freely to
whomever come who may,
who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up
with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath
when the blond & naked angel came to pierce
them with a sword,
who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate
the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar
the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb
and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but
sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden
threads of the craftsman's loom,
who copulated ecstatic and insatiate with a bottle of
beer a sweetheart a package of cigarettes a can-
dle and fell off the bed, and continued along
the floor and down the hall and ended fainting
on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and
come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness,
who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling
in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning
but prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sun
rise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked
in the lake,
who went out whoring through Colorado in myriad
stolen night-cars, N.C., secret hero of these
poems, cocksman and Adonis of Denver-joy
to the memory of his innumerable lays of girls
in empty lots & diner backyards, moviehouses'
rickety rows, on mountaintops in caves or with
gaunt waitresses in familiar roadside lonely pet-
ticoat upliftings & especially secret gas-station
solipsisms of johns, & hometown alleys too,
who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in
dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and
picked themselves up out of basements hung
over with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third
Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemploy-
ment offices,
who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on
the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the
East River to open to a room full of steamheat
and opium,
who created great suicidal dramas on the apartment
cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime
blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall
be crowned with laurel in oblivion,
who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested
the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of
Bowery,
who wept at the romance of the streets with their
pushcarts full of onions and bad music,
who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the
bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in
their lofts,
who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned
with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded
by orange crates of theology,
who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty
incantations which in the yellow morning were
stanzas of gibberish,
who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht
& tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable
kingdom,
who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for
an egg,
who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot
for Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks
fell on their heads every day for the next decade,
who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccess-
fully, gave up and were forced to open antique
stores where they thought they were growing
old and cried,
who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits
on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse
& the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments
of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the
fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinis-
ter intelligent editors, or were run down by the
drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality,
who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually hap-
pened and walked away unknown and forgotten
into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alley
ways & firetrucks, not even one free beer,
who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of
the subway window, jumped in the filthy Pas-
saic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street,
danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed
phonograph records of nostalgic European
1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and
threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans
in their ears and the blast of colossal steam
whistles,
who barreled down the highways of the past journeying
to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude
watch or Birmingham jazz incarnation,


who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out
if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had
a vision to find out Eternity,
who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who
came back to Denver & waited in vain, who
watched over Denver & brooded & loned in
Denver and finally went away to find out the
Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,
who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying
for each other's salvation and light and breasts,
until the soul illuminated its hair for a second,
who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for
impossible criminals with golden heads and the
charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet
blues to Alcatraz,
who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky
Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys
or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or
Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the
daisychain or grave,
who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hyp
notism & were left with their insanity & their
hands & a hung jury,
who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturers on Dadaism
and subsequently presented themselves on the
granite steps of the madhouse with shaven heads
and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding in-
stantaneous lobotomy,
and who were given instead the concrete void of insulin
Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psycho-
therapy occupational therapy pingpong &
amnesia,
who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic
pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia,
returning years later truly bald except for a wig of
blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible mad
man doom of the wards of the madtowns of the
East,
Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid
halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rock-
ing and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench
dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a night-
mare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the
moon,
with mother finally ******, and the last fantastic book
flung out of the tenement window, and the last
door closed at 4. A.M. and the last telephone
slammed at the wall in reply and the last fur-
nished room emptied down to the last piece of
mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted
on a wire hanger in the closet, and even that
imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of
hallucination
ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and
now you're really in the total animal soup of
time
and who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed
with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use
of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrat-
ing plane,
who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space
through images juxtaposed, and trapped the
archangel of the soul between 2 visual images
and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun
and dash of consciousness together jumping
with sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna
Deus
to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human
prose and stand before you speechless and intel-
ligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet con-
fessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm
of thought in his naked and endless head,
the madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown,
yet putting down here what might be left to say
in time come after death,
and rose reincarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in
the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the
suffering of America's naked mind for love into
an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone
cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio
with the absolute heart of the poem of life butchered
out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand
years.

II

What sphinx of cement and aluminum bashed open
their skulls and ate up their brains and imagi-
nation?
Moloch! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unob
tainable dollars! Children screaming under the
stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men
weeping in the parks!
Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the
loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy
judger of men!
Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the
crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of
sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgment!
Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stun-
ned governments!
Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose
blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers
are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a canni-
bal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking
tomb!
Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows!
Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long
streets like endless Jehovahs! Moloch whose fac-
tories dream and croak in the fog! Moloch whose
smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!
Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch
whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch
whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch
whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen!
Moloch whose name is the Mind!
Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream
Angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in
Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!
Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom
I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch
who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy!
Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch!
Light streaming out of the sky!
Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisible suburbs!
skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic
industries! spectral nations! invincible mad
houses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!
They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pave-
ments, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to
Heaven which exists and is everywhere about
us!
Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstasies!
gone down the American river!
Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole
boatload of sensitive bullshit!
Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions!
gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! De-
spairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides!
Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on
the rocks of Time!
Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the
wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell!
They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving!
carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the
street!

III

Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland
where you're madder than I am
I'm with you in Rockland
where you must feel very strange
I'm with you in Rockland
where you imitate the shade of my mother
I'm with you in Rockland
where you've murdered your twelve secretaries
I'm with you in Rockland
where you laugh at this invisible humor
I'm with you in Rockland
where we are great writers on the same dreadful
typewriter
I'm with you in Rockland
where your condition has become serious and
is reported on the radio
I'm with you in Rockland
where the faculties of the skull no longer admit
the worms of the senses
I'm with you in Rockland
where you drink the tea of the breasts of the
spinsters of Utica
I'm with you in Rockland
where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the
harpies of the Bronx
I'm with you in Rockland
where you scream in a straightjacket that you're
losing the game of the actual pingpong of the
abyss
I'm with you in Rockland
where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul
is innocent and immortal it should never die
ungodly in an armed madhouse
I'm with you in Rockland
where fifty more shocks will never return your
soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a
cross in the void
I'm with you in Rockland
where you accuse your doctors of insanity and
plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the
fascist national Golgotha
I'm with you in Rockland
where you will split the heavens of Long Island
and resurrect your living human Jesus from the
superhuman tomb
I'm with you in Rockland
where there are twenty-five-thousand mad com-
rades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale
I'm with you in Rockland
where we hug and kiss the United States under
our bedsheets the United States that coughs all
night and won't let us sleep
I'm with you in Rockland
where we wake up electrified out of the coma
by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the
roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the
hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls col-
lapse O skinny legions run outside O starry
spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is
here O victory forget your underwear we're
free
I'm with you in Rockland
in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-
journey on the highway across America in tears
to the door of my cottage in the Western night


Extras: Filter Print Post Top
InvisibleTODAY
Battletoad
Male

Registered: 09/25/03
Posts: 10,218
Loc: Metropolis City, USA
Re: Howl a poem By Allen Ginsberg [Re: Corporal Kielbasa]
    #5908605 - 07/28/06 10:57 AM (17 years, 6 months ago)

Making a nonsense poem longer than it should be really doesn't help the (non)message. WTF???


--------------------

ca'rouse (k-rouz)
intr.v.
To engage in boisterous, drunken merrymaking.


Extras: Filter Print Post Top
InvisibleCorporal Kielbasa

Registered: 05/29/04
Posts: 17,235
Re: Howl a poem By Allen Ginsberg [Re: TODAY]
    #5908614 - 07/28/06 11:02 AM (17 years, 6 months ago)

Well if you cant derive your own meaning from it then i am sorry for you.


Extras: Filter Print Post Top
InvisibleTODAY
Battletoad
Male

Registered: 09/25/03
Posts: 10,218
Loc: Metropolis City, USA
Re: Howl a poem By Allen Ginsberg [Re: Corporal Kielbasa]
    #5908619 - 07/28/06 11:05 AM (17 years, 6 months ago)

Its obvious that I can't. What do you think ginsberg is trying to say?


--------------------

ca'rouse (k-rouz)
intr.v.
To engage in boisterous, drunken merrymaking.


Extras: Filter Print Post Top
InvisibleCorporal Kielbasa

Registered: 05/29/04
Posts: 17,235
Re: Howl a poem By Allen Ginsberg [Re: TODAY]
    #5908628 - 07/28/06 11:08 AM (17 years, 6 months ago)

lol now the spot light is on me.... thanks.

one sec


Extras: Filter Print Post Top
Offlinedomite
Puppet
Male User Gallery
Registered: 04/12/03
Posts: 2,978
Loc: Who's askin'?
Last seen: 10 years, 5 months
Re: Howl a poem By Allen Ginsberg [Re: TODAY]
    #5908653 - 07/28/06 11:16 AM (17 years, 6 months ago)

I have to admit, I never got through that entire poem.

I prefer Bukowski

But i like "Eat More Grease, Pigs of Western Civilization!"


Extras: Filter Print Post Top
InvisibleCorporal Kielbasa

Registered: 05/29/04
Posts: 17,235
Re: Howl a poem By Allen Ginsberg [Re: domite]
    #5908673 - 07/28/06 11:25 AM (17 years, 6 months ago)

Read the second part to the poem.

Its about mens desires, its about union, its about falling off and being swept to the side to writh in ones on mental prison. Its about addiction, its about lust. Its about the hollow society thats blinded by the busy world we created.

Its about those people that feel its about the people who feel for there own situations and the situations of man. Its about eather going blind to the world or going mad.

Its about finding your own heaven and enlightenment. I dunno thats what i think about it.

It is long winded though


Extras: Filter Print Post Top
InvisibleSimisu
taken by gravity
 User Gallery

Registered: 08/08/03
Posts: 5,435
Loc: Israeli in Flag
Re: Howl a poem By Allen Ginsberg [Re: domite]
    #5908686 - 07/28/06 11:29 AM (17 years, 6 months ago)

thanks...
i've had this poem for a long time but never bothered to listen up untill now!


--------------------
:mushdance::sanpedro::peyote::mushroom2: :heart: Shr:supershroom::supershroom:mery :heart: :mushroom2::peyote::sanpedro::mushdance:
      Visit & Support Free Spore Ring Earth
      :sun: Please help spread live Salvia Divinorum :sun:



Extras: Filter Print Post Top
InvisibleCorporal Kielbasa

Registered: 05/29/04
Posts: 17,235
Re: Howl a poem By Allen Ginsberg [Re: Corporal Kielbasa]
    #5908716 - 07/28/06 11:40 AM (17 years, 6 months ago)

Our civilisation since the ancients of greece, have been teaching us the importance of exellence. Striving for exellence, striving for Quality! Virtue! Dharma. Find these things within yourself and culminate them. Reach up and take one step in that direction each day. Dont let yourself be washed away like the dirt and trash on a city street.


Extras: Filter Print Post Top
InvisibleTODAY
Battletoad
Male

Registered: 09/25/03
Posts: 10,218
Loc: Metropolis City, USA
Re: Howl a poem By Allen Ginsberg [Re: Corporal Kielbasa]
    #5908758 - 07/28/06 11:59 AM (17 years, 6 months ago)

I like your version better kielbasa...more to the point, less hubub :wink:


--------------------

ca'rouse (k-rouz)
intr.v.
To engage in boisterous, drunken merrymaking.


Extras: Filter Print Post Top
InvisibleCorporal Kielbasa

Registered: 05/29/04
Posts: 17,235
Re: Howl a poem By Allen Ginsberg [Re: TODAY]
    #5908781 - 07/28/06 12:12 PM (17 years, 6 months ago)

ha ha ok cool  :cool:


Extras: Filter Print Post Top
InvisibleRandalFlagg
Stranger
Registered: 06/15/02
Posts: 15,608
Re: Howl a poem By Allen Ginsberg [Re: Corporal Kielbasa]
    #5908911 - 07/28/06 01:11 PM (17 years, 6 months ago)

Can you feel the Beat...the Beat...the Beat...


Extras: Filter Print Post Top
InvisibleKrishna
कृष्ण,LOL
 User Gallery

Registered: 05/08/03
Posts: 23,285
Loc: oakland
Re: Howl a poem By Allen Ginsberg [Re: RandalFlagg]
    #5908918 - 07/28/06 01:13 PM (17 years, 6 months ago)

Quote:


America I've given you all and now I'm nothing.
America two dollars and twenty-seven cents January 17, 1956.
I can't stand my own mind.
America when will we end the human war?
Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb
I don't feel good don't bother me.
I won't write my poem till I'm in my right mind.
America when will you be angelic?
When will you take off your clothes?
When will you look at yourself through the grave?
When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?
America why are your libraries full of tears?
America when will you send your eggs to India?
I'm sick of your insane demands.
When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I need with my good looks?
America after all it is you and I who are perfect not the next world.
Your machinery is too much for me.
You made me want to be a saint.
There must be some other way to settle this argument.
Burroughs is in Tangiers I don't think he'll come back it's sinister.
Are you being sinister or is this some form of practical joke?
I'm trying to come to the point.
I refuse to give up my obsession.
America stop pushing I know what I'm doing.
America the plum blossoms are falling.
I haven't read the newspapers for months, everyday somebody goes on trial for
murder.
America I feel sentimental about the Wobblies.
America I used to be a communist when I was a kid and I'm not sorry.
I smoke marijuana every chance I get.
I sit in my house for days on end and stare at the roses in the closet.
When I go to Chinatown I get drunk and never get laid.
My mind is made up there's going to be trouble.
You should have seen me reading Marx.
My psychoanalyst thinks I'm perfectly right.
I won't say the Lord's Prayer.
I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations.
America I still haven't told you what you did to Uncle Max after he came over
from Russia.

I'm addressing you.
Are you going to let our emotional life be run by Time Magazine?
I'm obsessed by Time Magazine.
I read it every week.
Its cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner candystore.
I read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library.
It's always telling me about responsibility. Businessmen are serious. Movie
producers are serious. Everybody's serious but me.
It occurs to me that I am America.
I am talking to myself again.

Asia is rising against me.
I haven't got a chinaman's chance.
I'd better consider my national resources.
My national resources consist of two joints of marijuana millions of genitals
an unpublishable private literature that goes 1400 miles and hour and
twentyfivethousand mental institutions.
I say nothing about my prisons nor the millions of underpriviliged who live in
my flowerpots under the light of five hundred suns.
I have abolished the whorehouses of France, Tangiers is the next to go.
My ambition is to be President despite the fact that I'm a Catholic.

America how can I write a holy litany in your silly mood?
I will continue like Henry Ford my strophes are as individual as his
automobiles more so they're all different sexes
America I will sell you strophes $2500 apiece $500 down on your old strophe
America free Tom Mooney
America save the Spanish Loyalists
America Sacco & Vanzetti must not die
America I am the Scottsboro boys.
America when I was seven momma took me to Communist Cell meetings they
sold us garbanzos a handful per ticket a ticket costs a nickel and the
speeches were free everybody was angelic and sentimental about the
workers it was all so sincere you have no idea what a good thing the party
was in 1935 Scott Nearing was a grand old man a real mensch Mother
Bloor made me cry I once saw Israel Amter plain. Everybody must have
been a spy.
America you don're really want to go to war.
America it's them bad Russians.
Them Russians them Russians and them Chinamen. And them Russians.
The Russia wants to eat us alive. The Russia's power mad. She wants to take
our cars from out our garages.
Her wants to grab Chicago. Her needs a Red Reader's Digest. her wants our
auto plants in Siberia. Him big bureaucracy running our fillingstations.
That no good. Ugh. Him makes Indians learn read. Him need big black niggers.
Hah. Her make us all work sixteen hours a day. Help.
America this is quite serious.
America this is the impression I get from looking in the television set.
America is this correct?
I'd better get right down to the job.
It's true I don't want to join the Army or turn lathes in precision parts
factories, I'm nearsighted and psychopathic anyway.
America I'm putting my queer shoulder to the wheel.





:thumbup:


--------------------




Extras: Filter Print Post Top
InvisiblePapaverS
Madmin Emeritus?

Registered: 06/01/02
Posts: 26,880
Loc: Radio Free Tibet!
Re: Howl a poem By Allen Ginsberg [Re: Corporal Kielbasa]
    #5908979 - 07/28/06 01:33 PM (17 years, 6 months ago)

A Truly Great Poem! :cool:


--------------------


Extras: Filter Print Post Top
OfflineHeadTripVertigo
at least I'm housebroken
Male User Gallery

Folding@home Statistics
Registered: 05/07/06
Posts: 10,788
Last seen: 5 years, 10 months
Re: Howl a poem By Allen Ginsberg [Re: Papaver]
    #5909520 - 07/28/06 04:49 PM (17 years, 6 months ago)

written on a three day binge of peyote and benzedrine. 
Ginsberg was the man.  even though he liked the cock.  :laugh:


--------------------
TACOS LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER


Edited by HeadTripVertigo (07/28/06 04:50 PM)


Extras: Filter Print Post Top
OfflineTheCow
Stranger

Registered: 10/28/02
Posts: 4,790
Last seen: 15 years, 6 months
Re: Howl a poem By Allen Ginsberg [Re: HeadTripVertigo]
    #5909567 - 07/28/06 05:11 PM (17 years, 6 months ago)

Little boy cock even. Ive always dug Burroughs more really


Extras: Filter Print Post Top
OfflineHeadTripVertigo
at least I'm housebroken
Male User Gallery

Folding@home Statistics
Registered: 05/07/06
Posts: 10,788
Last seen: 5 years, 10 months
Re: Howl a poem By Allen Ginsberg [Re: TheCow]
    #5909588 - 07/28/06 05:22 PM (17 years, 6 months ago)

burroughs had connections with the mob and stuff. I remember one story where he had a car full of submachine guns and stolen electronics he was trying to unload somewhere. and he always wore a suit and a big ol' hat. awesomeness.
everyone in that circle was great(and some are still alive and kicking). jack kerouac, neal cassady, the lesser known folks like gregory corso, lew welch, phillip whalen, gary snyder, lawrence ferlinghetti, etc.


--------------------
TACOS LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER


Edited by HeadTripVertigo (07/28/06 05:23 PM)


Extras: Filter Print Post Top
InvisibleOneMoreRobot3021
Male

Registered: 06/06/03
Posts: 61,024
Loc: the sky
Re: Howl a poem By Allen Ginsberg [Re: Corporal Kielbasa]
    #5911056 - 07/29/06 02:47 AM (17 years, 6 months ago)

Ever hear him read it? Sends chills down the spine, but makes you laugh, too, he always reads it in ways that alternate between hilarious and eerie.


--------------------
Acid doesn't give you truths; it builds machines that push the envelope of perception. Whatever revelations came to me then have dissolved like skywriting. All I really know is that those few years saddled me with a faith in the redemptive potential of the imagination which, however flat, stale and unprofitable the world seems to me now, I cannot for the life of me shake.

-Erik Davis


Extras: Filter Print Post Top
InvisiblePapaverS
Madmin Emeritus?

Registered: 06/01/02
Posts: 26,880
Loc: Radio Free Tibet!
Re: Howl a poem By Allen Ginsberg [Re: OneMoreRobot3021]
    #5911157 - 07/29/06 04:14 AM (17 years, 6 months ago)

I picked up a CD of early Ginsberg readings of his own work. It's nice to sit back and chill with. I also have him doing a later updated reading (1970s?) on a poetry DVD somewhere (that one's not complete, though).


--------------------


Extras: Filter Print Post Top
Jump to top Pages: 1

Shop: Unfolding Nature Unfolding Nature: Being in the Implicate Order   PhytoExtractum Buy Bali Kratom Powder   Kraken Kratom Red Vein Kratom   Original Sensible Seeds USA West Coast Strains   Bridgetown Botanicals CBD Concentrates


Similar ThreadsPosterViewsRepliesLast post
* Allen Ginsberg Appreciation Thread 28064212 738 7 04/19/12 05:48 PM
by Ghostwriter
* Allen Ginsberg paper weshroom 733 11 07/19/09 07:59 PM
by weshroom
* Allen Ginsberg and Jerry Garcia on South Park
( 1 2 all )
LearyfanS 6,627 26 05/12/05 11:15 PM
by Hooty
* Ken Kesey and Allen Ginsberg - "Critical Mass" (Real Audio) LearyfanS 3,514 19 02/28/05 12:31 PM
by kindkesey
* Howl Asante 1,874 11 04/04/07 09:50 AM
by Corporal Kielbasa
* The Official Post a Poem Thread 28064212 630 17 07/13/20 07:58 PM
by The Blind Ass
* Anyone know where I can find Ginsberg Poems.... DeadPhan 1,780 9 10/06/08 09:04 PM
by WakeboardrB
* Neal Cassidy, Ginsberg, the Dead, and you!
( 1 2 3 4 all )
pantsboy 7,238 68 05/13/05 10:02 PM
by Mitchnast

Extra information
You cannot start new topics / You cannot reply to topics
HTML is disabled / BBCode is enabled
Moderator: Entire Staff
2,722 topic views. 2 members, 35 guests and 47 web crawlers are browsing this forum.
[ Show Images Only | Sort by Score | Print Topic ]
Search this thread:

Copyright 1997-2024 Mind Media. Some rights reserved.

Generated in 0.026 seconds spending 0.009 seconds on 14 queries.