Collected Poems 1947-1997 - Ginsberg Allen. Страница 162
Commentary and Palestine Review sent me here!
The International Zionist Conspiracy sent me here!
Syrian Politicians sent me here! Heroic Pan-Arab
Nationalists sent me here!
They’re sending Armies to my side—
The Americans & Russians are sending bombing planes tanks
Chinese Egyptians Syrians help me battle for my righteous
house my Soul’s dirt Spirit’s Nation body’s
boundaries & Self’s territory my
Zionist homeland my Palestine inheritance
The Capitalist Communist & Third World Peoples’
Republics Dictatorships Police States Socialisms & Democracies
are all sending Deadly Weapons to our aid!
We shall triumph over the Enemy!
Maintain our Separate Identity! Proud
History evermore!
Defend our own bodies here this Holy Land! This hill
Golgotha never forget, never relinquish
inhabit thru Eternity
under Allah Christ Yaweh forever one God
Shema Yisroel Adonoi Eluhenu Adonoi Echad!
La ilah illa’ Allah hu!
OY! AH! HU! OY! AH! HU!
SHALOM! SHANTIH! SALAAM!
New York, January 13, 1974
Manifesto
Let me say beginning I don’t believe in Soul
The heart, famous heart’s a bag of shit I wrote 25 years ago
O my immortal soul! youthful poet Shelley cried
O my immortal Ego—little knowing
he didn’t believe in God. Neither do I.
Nor all science reason reality and good moral Will—
collections of empty atoms as Kerouac Buddha scribed.
Neither does great love immortal defy pain nightmare Death Torture Saigon Police Underground Press Pravda Bill of Rights—
And while we’re at it, let’s denounce Democracy, Fascism, Communism and heroes.
Art’s not empty if it shows its own emptiness
Poetry useful leaves its own skeleton hanging in air
like Buddha, Shakespeare & Rimbaud.
Serious, dispense with law except Cause & Effect, even the latter has exceptions
No cause & effect is not foolproof.
There is Awareness—which confounds the Soul, Heart, God, Science Love Governments and Cause & Effects’ Nightmare.
New York, January 28, 1974, 1 A.M.
Sad Dust Glories
To the Dead
You were here on earth, in cities—
where now?
Bones in the ground,
thoughts in my mind.
*
Teacher
bring me to heaven
or leave me alone.
Why make me work so hard
when everything’s spread around
open, like forest’s poison oak turned red
empty sleepingbags hanging from
a dead branch.
*
When I sit
I see dust motes in my eye
Ponderosa needles trembling
shine green
in blue sky.
Wind sound passes thru
pine tops, distant
windy waves flutter black
oak leaves
and leave them still
like my mind
which forgets
why the bluejay across the woods’
clearing
squawks, mid afternoon.
*
The mood
is sadness, dead friends,
or the boy I slept with last night
came twice silently
and I still lie in the colored
hammock, half naked
reading poetry
Sunday
in bright sun pine shade.
*
KENJI MYAZAWA
“All is Buddhahood
to who has cried even once
Glory be?”
So I said glory be
looking down at a pine
feather
risen beside a dead leaf
on brown duff
where a fly wavers an inch
above ground
midsummer.
*
Could you be here?
Really be here
and forget the void?
I am, it’s peaceful, empty,
filled with green Ponderosa
swaying parallel crests
fan-like needle circles
glittering haloed
in sun that moves slowly
lights up my hammock
heats my face skin
and knees.
*
Wind makes sound
in tree tops
like express trains like city
machinery
Slow dances high up, huge
branches wave back & forth sensitive
needlehairs bob their heads
—it’s too human, it’s not human
It’s treetops, whatever they think,
It’s me, whatever I think,
It’s the wind talking.
* *
The moon followed by Jupiter thru pinetrees,