Collected Poems 1947-1997 - Ginsberg Allen (книги серии онлайн .TXT) 📗
Armageddon for the mob
Gog & Magog Gog & Magog
Armageddon for the mob
Gog & Magog Gog & Magog
Gog & Magog Gog & Magog
Gog Magog Gog Magog
Gog & Magog Gog & Magog
Gog Magog Gog Magog
Gog Magog Gog Magog
Gog Magog Gog Magog
Gog Magog Gog Magog
Gog Magog Gog Magog
Ginsberg says Gog & Magog
Armageddon did the job.
February-June 1991
Supplication for the Rebirth of the Vidyadhara Chogyam Trungpa, Rinpoche
Dear Lord Guru who pervades the space of my mind
permeates the universe of my consciousness,
still empties my balding head and’s stabilized my wand’ring thought
to average equanimity in Manhattan & Boulder
Return return reborn in spirit & knowledge in human body
my own or others as continual Teacher of chaotic peace,
Return according to your vow to pacify magnetize enrich destroy
grasping angry stupidity in me my family friends & Sangha
Return in body speech & mind to enlighten my labors
& the labors of your meditators, thousands from L.A. to Halifax
to relieve sufferings of our brothers, lovers
family, friends, fellow citizens, nations and planet.
Remember your vow to be with us on our deathbeds
in living worlds where we dwell in your tender perspective
breathe with your conscious breath, catch ourselves thinking
& dissolve bomb dream, fear of our own skin & yelling argument
in the sky of your mind
Bend your efforts to regroup our community within your thought-body
& mind-space, the effects of your non-thought,
Turbulent ease of your spontaneous word & picture
nonmeditative compassion your original mind
These slogans were writ on the second day of June 1991
a sleepless night my brother’s 70th birthday on Long Island
my own sixty-fifth year in the human realm visiting his house
by the Vajra Poet Allen Ginsberg supplicating protection of his
Vajra Guru Chogyam Trungpa
June 2, 1991, 2:05 A.M.
After the Big Parade
Millions of people cheering and waving flags for joy in Manhattan
Yesterday’ve returned to their jobs and arthritis now Tuesday—
What made them want so much passion at last, such mutual delight—
Will they ever regain these hours of confetti’d ecstasy again?
Have they forgotten the Corridors of Death that gave such victory?
Will another hundred thousand desert deaths across the world be
cause for the next rejoicing?
June 11, 1991, 2:30 P.M.
Big Eats
Big deal bargains TV meat stock market news paper headlines love life Metropolis
Float thru air like thought forms float thru the skull, check the headlines catch the boyish ass that walks
Before you fall in bed blood sugar high blood pressure lower, lower, your lips grow cold.
Sooner or later let go what you loved hated or shrugged off, you walk in the park
You look at the sky, sit on a pillow, count up the stars in your head, get up and eat.
August 20, 1991
Not Dead Yet
Huffing puffing upstairs downstairs telephone
office mail checks secretary revolt—
The Soviet Legislative Communist bloc
inspired Gorbachev’s wife and Yeltsin
to shut up in terror or stand on a tank
in front of White House denouncing Putschists—
September breezes sway branches & leaves in
a calm schoolyard under humid grey sky,
Drink your decaf Ginsberg old communist New
York Times addict, be glad you’re not Trotsky.
September 16, 1991
Yiddishe Kopf
I’m Jewish because love my family matzoh ball soup.
I’m Jewish because my fathers mothers uncles grandmothers said “Jewish,” all the way back to Vitebsk & Kaminetz-Podolska via Lvov.
Jewish because reading Dostoyevsky at 13 I write poems at restaurant tables Lower East Side, perfect delicatessen intellectual.
Jewish because violent Zionists make my blood boil, Progressive indignation.
Jewish because Buddhist, my anger’s transparent hot air, I shrug my shoulders.
Jewish because monotheist Jews Catholics Moslems’re intolerable intolerant—
Blake sd. “6000 years of sleep” since antique Nobodaddy Adonai’s mind trap—Oy! such Meshuggeneh absolutes—
Senior Citizen Jewish paid my dues got half-fare card buses subways, discount movies—
Can’t imagine how these young people make a life, make a living.
How can they stand it, going out in the world with only $10 and a hydrogen bomb?
October 1991
John
I
No one liked my hair
Mother pulled it toward the movies
Father hit the top of my head
Street gangs set it afire
My dry hair, my
short hair, black hair, drab hair
my stupid hair—frizzled!
Till I met John,
John loved my hair
Twined his fingers in my delicate curly locks
Told me let it grow
John buried his face in my hair
kissed my hair
Murmured endearments “Oh oh oh” to the top of my skull
Patted me on the head
