I decided to attempt some mock Ginsberg-style poetry one night, but it turned into something very self-revealing. Since I got positive feedback from my last poems, I thought I might as well share it with someone. Because no one ever reads my poetry. X.X Lament I saw an antiquarian Mississippi sunrise with old guitar and deadwood and blues harmonica wailing a sorrow-song in the heat of slavery I built a tumulus of sand around my piano and hallucinated medleys of madness and LSD while my friends watched from the windows and cried I copulated heroin in the diseased gutters of ramshackle L.A. vitreous, weak, vulnerable, beggared to silence my own crippling hunger I ingested mescaline on a desert highway crowned with crimson mountains and tripped and strung out lept through phantasmal visions I closed my eyes in a lavatory in Paris; blood coagulated around my lips and my soul felt senescent even though I was only a year and twenty-six I sang hope to God's destitute children and dreamed of empyrean immaculate Zion through cannabis eyes euphoric I beheld hipsters and beatniks and poets and diggers crusading down the New York State Freeway in a sacrosanct exodus to utopia I fornicated music that sounded like cosmic aquarian psychedelicized rapture high and denuded in the laughing August drizzle I met knowledge stoned in jazz clubs fire-eyed 1947 and stared down the barrel of an aureate saxophone in awe I dug beat generation alleys in bell-bottoms and denim and a notebook full of poetry I drank whiskey in all the disconsolate penthouses that contour the cocaine sidewalks of nowhere I sought the bleeding holiness of pain in kaleidoscopic tunnels for the sake of my depraved infatuatuon with martyrdom I took the hand of pleasure and danced with her on broken glass and bled I courted anguish in a luminous crystal ballroom with lucent chandeliers and crystalline and mirrors that manifested a million reflections of the ghost I had become I clung to my bedroom window invisible, vampyric and wraith-like in the dead of winter and saw myself immaculate the way I was as a child I watched my past disintegrate; I cried in agony and pumped my veins with morphine Mississippi and blues and jazz and L.A. and Paris and Zion and San Francsisco and heroin, marijuana and City Lights Book Store and throwing tattered pages in the bay from Golden Gate Bridge with tears like rain and bitterness and communism and grey dawns all caliginous with smoke from cigarettes and junkies in alleyways with candles and beatniks brooding in the coffee houses and politicians disgorging censorship from hypocritical orifice while they drink their whiskey from the goblet of falsehood and rejoice! Oh terror! Oh pain! Oh cataclysm! Oh, where beauty is grotesque and grotesque is beautiful! Oh rapture! Oh joy! Oh elation! Oh, where every day is apocalypse and apocalypse is every day! I cried and I mutilated my own flesh in a thousand school bathrooms. I was pure and unadulterated and unalloyed on church altars more squalid and demonic and verminous than the parents who let their children be killed there I stood on the edge of the sun and watched a virulent holocaust of blood and fire destroy the world. I spent more time mourning the deaths of my heroes than the deaths of my friends I gave my heart to the rip-tide in the ocean near San Diego I gave my soul to Jim Morrison's grave I gave all my poetry and songs to a bus called Furthur and sent it rolling down Haight street I gave my hope to Kent State where peace-protesters were massacred I gave my mind to my mother and prayed she'd understand I laid my guitar on my bed back home and sobbed when I saw my sister's empty chair I gave my love to Andy who was my darling I burned my body in the fire that destroyed San Francisco and scattered my ashes in the rolling fields of Yasgur's farm I laid my Self to rest in purgatory Armageddon and battle-cries and slept a thousand generations to the end of time An essence of nothingness that was soon picked up by a solar wind, Borne away to a place where life is nothing but a vanishing plane in the dynamo of night.
Fuck, what can I say. I'm lost for words. I dig this so much. It flows and flows and flows. I wanted to read more. I don't know what to say. This is absolutely amazing. You have a great talent and way with words. I will print this out and stand in my room, reciting, ranting, rambling. This really has inspired me. Please continue to post more of your work here. Astounding. Big Peace, A.
Oh my God thanks! I wanted someone to read it so bad I really have no one in my life to share my poetry with.
That means the world to me, really. Obviously Allen Ginsberg is a big influence of mine. He really is. A lot of people hate his writing style, but I personally love it.
Awe-struck. I read this over and over and over again. I want to share this with the world over... this was great, beyond any words I could of praise I could give you.
Oh my God! Damn! Ack! That literally means the fucking world to me. You just made my day completely!!!
Wooooooooow. I am....wow. No words to add to this, you truly are an inspiration. I won't tell you you are talented, you hear it enough, and are likely too modest to accept the same. But I took a trip through the images you carried us through, it became a part of me. I feel proud after reading this. Proud for humanity that there are a few of us left of this world. Please write more of your offerings to us. I can't wait.
Huge kudos. You've got a definite gift. Please share this with someone you know IRL.. a teacher, friend, someone.Your talent is too great to keep hidden. When I was in high school I finally joined the Fine Arts club at school (and extracurriculers were SO not my thing) that was actually very cool, and provided me with a much needed outlet and audience for my work. I didn't know many people at my new school, and as it turns out, joining the club was great.. We did poetry reading nights at coffee houses (we were so hip, lol) and we published a magazine for the school with poetry and short stories. I was so relieved to find an outlet that way.
Bring yourself to The World -- WRITE! I find myself often awstruck by the talent, heart, genious, and giftedness, of many of the members of your generation on these Forums. It gives me some consolation about the future of our World and Society. WRITE ON!!!!!!!!!!!!!
seriously that was fucking good. i could see what you were talking about every line came a new vision really cool man. i wish i could make my stuff flow as well. it always gets tangled or i don't know how to leave one topic and transition to another. you however can do it very well. join a communications arts group you'll excell.
Haha. What I do Is I just write manic thoughts down in poetry form No real structure to it. But thanks
