Collected Poems 1947-1997 - Ginsberg Allen (книги серии онлайн .TXT) 📗
& will hurl their Karma-bombs
on the planet.
Get thee to the land,
leave the cities to be destroyed.
Only a miracle appearing in Man’s eyes
only boys’ flesh singing
can show the warless way—
or miracle
Radium destruction over Earth
seed Planet with New Babe.
Brilliant green lights
in factory transom windows.
Beautiful!
as eyes close to sleep,
beautiful as undersea sunshine
or valleybottom fern.
Why do I fear these lights?
& smoking chimneys’ Industry?
Why see them less godly
than forest treetrunks
& sunset orange moons?
Why these cranes less Edenly than Palmfronds?
these highway neons unequal in beauty
to violet starfish anemone & kelp
in Point Lobos’
tidepools’ transparency?
It’s these neon Standard Gastation
cars of men whose faces are dough
pockets full of 58 billion dollar
abstract budget money—
these green lights illuminate
goggled eyes fixing blowtorches on metal wings
flying off to war—
Because these electric structures rear tin machines
that will kill Bolivian marchers
or flagellate Vietnam adolescents’ thighs—
Because my countrymen make this structure to make War
Because this smoke over Toledo’s advertised in the Toledo Blade
as energy burning to destroy China.
Baghavan Sri Ramana Maharshi
in his photo has a fine white halo of hair,
thin man with a small beard
silver short-cropped skull-fur
His head tilted to one side,
mild smile, intelligent eyes
“The Jivan-Mukta is not a Person.”
Morning sunrise over Tussie Hills,
earth covered with emerald-dark fur.
Cliffs to climb, a little wilderness,
a little solitude,
and a long valley you could call a home.
Came thru here with Peter before & noticed
green forest,
What a place to walk & look
thru cellular consciousness
—Near Nealyton or Dry Run
Waterfall or Meadow Gap, or Willow Hill.
Sunrays filtering thru clouds like a negative photograph,
smoky bus window, passengers asleep
over Susquehanna River’s morning mist.
Ike at Gettysburg found himself a nice spot—
all these places millions of trees’ work
made green
as millions of workmen’s labor raised the buildings of NY,
Corn here in fields, dollars in the fields of New York.
Morning glow, hills east Harrisburg, bright
highways, red factory smoke, fires burning
upriver in garbage lots—
Philadelphia Inquirer: “Perry County 113 acres
of woodland, $11,300. Ideal locations for
cabins, quarters, township road, springs &
roads on track, best of hunting, call 1-717 …”
—Dangerous to want possessions
and for so short a time.
Shoulda had it in 1945, or ’53,
Times Square & Mexico—
In my twenties I would’ve enjoyed running around these
green woods naked.
In my twenties I would’ve enjoyed making love naked
by these brooks.
Who’s the enemy, year after year?
War after war, who’s the enemy?
What’s the weapon, battle after battle?
What’s the news, defeat after defeat?
What’s the picture, decade after decade?
Television shows blood,
print broken arms burning skin photographs,
wounded bodies revealed on the screen
Cut Sound out of television you won’t tell who’s Victim
Cut Language off the Visual you’ll never know
Who’s Aggressor—
cut commentary from Newscast
you’ll see a mass of madmen at murder.
