Nor hearts to make old women smile day and night
Nor arms to warm young girls to dream of love
Nor thighs to satisfy thighs, nor breath men can approve—
Yet think back to the time our epic world was new
When Gilgamesh followed the shade of his friend Enkidu
Into Limbo’s dust to talk love man to man
So younger David enamored of young Jonathan
Wrote songs that women and men still chant for calm
Century after century under evergreen or palm
A love writ so sacred on our Bible leaf
That heart-fire warms cold millennial grief.
Same time Akilleos won the war at Troy
Grieving Patroklos’ body, his dead warrior boy
(One nation won the world by reading Greek for this
And fell when Wilde was gaoled for his Bellboy’s kiss)
Marvelous Zeus himself took lightning eagle shape
Down-cheeked Ganymede enjoyed God’s thick-winged rape
And lived a youth forever, forever as can be,
Serving his nectar to the bearded deity
The whole world knew the story, the world laughed in awe
That such Love could be the Thunder of immortal Law.
When Socrates climbed his ladder of love’s degrees
He put his foot in silence on rough Alcibiades
Wise men still read Plato, whoever they are,
Plato whose love-lad Aster was his morning star
Plato whose love-lad was in death his star of Night
Which Shelley once witnessed as Eternal Light.
Catullus and tough Horace were slaves to glad young men
Loved them cursed them, always fell in love again
Caesar conquered the world, top Emperor Power
Lay soft on the breast of his soldier of the hour
Even Jesus Christ loved his young John most
Later he showed him the whole Heavenly Host
Old Rome approved a beautiful bodied youth
Antinöus Hadrian worshipped with Imperial Truth
Told in the calm gaze of his hundred stone
Statues standing figleafed in the Vatican.
Michelangelo lifted his young hand to smooth
The belly of his Bacchus a sixteen-year youth
Whose prick stands up he’s drunk, his eyes gaze side-
Ways to his right hand held up shoulder high
Waving a cup of grape, smart kid, his nose is sharp,
His lips are new, slightly opened as if part-
Ed to take a sip of purple nakedness,
Taste Michelangelo’s mortal-bearded kiss,
Or if a hair-hooved horny Satyr happens to pass
Fall to the ground on his strong little marble ass.
Michelangelo loved him! What young stud
Stood without trousers or shirt, maybe even did
What the creator wanted him to in bed
Lay still with the sculptor’s hand cupped on his head
Feeling up his muscles, feeling down his bones
Palm down his back and thighs, touching his soft stones—
What kind of men were the Slaves he tied to his bed?
And who stood still for David naked foot to head?
But men love the muscles of David’s abdomen
And come with their women to see him again and again.
Enough, I’ve stayed up all night with these boys
And all my life enjoyed their handsome joys
I came with many companions to this Dawn
Now I’m tired and must set my pen down
Reader, Hearer, this time Understand
How kind it is for man to love a man,
Old love and Present, future love the same
Hear and Read what love is without shame.
I want people to understand! They can! They can! They can!
So open your ears and hear the voice of the classical Band.
October 26, 1981
AIRPLANE BLUES
Copyright © 1986 by May King Poetry Music Inc., Allen Ginsberg
Airplane Blues
I drove out to the airport
on a blue sunny day
Smog brown over Denver
Horizon dung gray
Look down on Missouri
vast river bend south
Dakota sky brilliant
Cigarette in my mouth
I’ve had many lovers
over half century
I have a new boyfriend
Nineteen years, he loves me
But I can’t get it up
too timid and shy
Growing old in my heaven
Singing blues in the sky
Nothing here to complain of
White clouds in the sun
Peace in my heart
Empty sky Everyone
But earth I look down on
Turns round misery
Green dollars fat
with the war industry
Mankind’s great delusions
Scrape sky with red rage
Build bombs out of Atoms
to blast out the words on this page
Majestical jailhouse
our Joy’s in the Cage
Hearts full of hatred
will outlast my old age
* * *
My mother has perished
my father’s long dead
I have a sweet brother
healed the pain in his head
I’m going to the Apple
to eat with my friends
While the radio chatters
what the President intends
Down there Mississippi
Minneapolis near
Farms and green comforts
of the Northern Hemisphere
While Earth’s hundred millions
Chew miserable clay
Old African kingdoms
Starve this century
I’ll read in the papers
more deaths in Iran
Jahweh rules Israel
Tanks in Afghanistan
Martial Law rules Gdansk
and the old Viet-Nam War
Murders Indians in Guatemala
and burns down El Salvador
London and Belfast
Los Angeles and Prague
Tel Aviv & Moscow
sit in their smog
Phnom Penh’s red ruin
was Washington’s pride
Hanoi hates Peking
where the God Mao has died
I’m alone in the sky
where there’s nothing to lose
The Sun’s not eternal
That’s why there’s the blues
Majestical jailhouse
our Joy’s in the Cage
Hearts full of hatred
will outlast my old age
* * *
Turn round in the sunset
over Manhattan isle
Newark was my birthplace
under the wing for a while
Green gastanks of Kearny
Smog brown in the sky
Seven million black men and white
live here and die
Come down over Harlem
red buildings stand still
Dusk light gleams their windows
wheels bound on the landfill
Sky streaked with jet streams
black clouds in the west
In the Lower East Side
I’ll go take my rest.
October 30, 1981
DO THE MEDITATION ROCK
Copyright © 1986 by May King Poetry Music Inc., Allen Ginsberg
Do the Meditation Rock*
Tune: I fought the Dharma, and the Dharma won
If you want to learn
I’ll tell you now
I’ll tell you how
it’s just that great
If you are an old
or a lama who lives
The first thing you do
is keep your spine
Sit yourself down
or sit in a chair
how to meditate
’cause it’s never too late
’cause I can’t wait
that it’s never too late
fraud like me
in Eternity
when you meditate
your backbone straight
on a pillow on the ground
if the ground isn’t there
Do the meditation Do the meditation
Learn a little Patience and Generosity
Follow your breath out
and sit there steady
Follow your breath right
follow it out
Follow your breath
to the thought of yr death
Follow your breath
whatever you think
open your eyes
& sit there wise
outta your nose
as far as it goes
but don’t hang on
in old Saigon
when thought forms rise
it’s a big surprise
Do the meditation Do the meditation
Learn a little Patience and Generosity
Generosity Generosity Generosity & Generosity
All you got to do
you’re sitting meditating
when thoughts catch up
forget what you thought
Laurel Hardy Uncle Don
you don’t have to drop
If you see a vision come
play it dumb
if you want a holocaust
it just went past
is to imitate
and you’re never too late
but your breath goes on
about Uncle Don
Charlie Chaplin Uncle Don
your nuclear bomb
say Hello Goodbye
with an empty eye
you can recall your mind
with the Western wind
Do the meditation Do the meditation
Learn a little Patience & Generosity
If you see Apocalypse
or a flying saucer
If you feel a little bliss
give your wife a kiss
If you can’t think straight
it’s never too late
Do the meditation
so your body & mind
in a long red car
sit where you are
don’t worry about that
when your tire goes flat
& you don’t know who to call
to do nothing at all
follow your breath
get together for a rest
Do the meditation Do the meditation
Learn a little Patience and Generosity
If you sit for an hour
you can tell the Superpower
you can tell the Superpower
& to stop & meditate
or a minute every day
to sit the same way
to watch and wait
’cause it’s never too late
Do the meditation Do the meditation
Get yourself together lots of Energy
& Generosity Generosity Generosity & Generosity!
St. Mark’s Place, Xmas 1981
THE LITTLE FISH DEVOURS THE BIG FISH
Copyright © 1986 by May King Poetry Music Inc., Allen Ginsberg
The Little Fish Devours the Big Fish
When the troops
get their poop
at Fort Bragg
how to frag
Sandinistas
Leftist Nicas
or go bomb
Guatemalan
Indians
Make a tomb
for men & boys
ending joys
of villages
and pillage
or burn down
to the ground
little huts
where pigs rut
This costs much
tax money as such
for an error
of red terror
Hypocrisy
is the key
to self defeating
prophecy
Genia Yevtushenko
Ernesto Cardenal
Allen Ginsberg
Rocknroll
sentimental
& reliable
& poetical
& prophetical
Therefore urge
Washington
& Havana men
to relax
& reflect
that the ax
on the neck
of Nicaragua’s
a big error
of war fever
Double bind
makes us blind
to self fulfilling
prophecy—
If you’re willing,
lose your eye
& your ear
mad with fear
Hypocrisy
is the key
to self fulfilling
prophecy
You can bet
Marxist threat
starts with that
self fulfilling
prophecy
if you’re willing
to admit
that the threat
of invasion
of a nation
might cause them
great alarm,
Make them arm
to resist,
mobilize
to insist
they will fight
back all right—
Then to condemn
their armed men
and not molli
fy their fears
is sheer folly
O my dears!
Hypocrisy
is the key
to self fulfilling
prophecy
United States
you’re the greatest
Superdick
your big stick
& big mouth
North & South
causes fear—
Armies near
and armies far
or army talk
wherever you are
makes folks here
think you’re queer
Big gun boats
that you float,
big rumors
that you dote
on will be quoted
in Managua
Santiago
Buenos Aires
& Havana
as more dread
threat of war
and Central
America will
Mobilize
militarize
and devise
a defense,
it’s common sense.
Then to complain
that their plan
to fight back
is a pain in the neck
of the Pentagon—
Washington
is crazy, Man.
Hypocrisy
is the key
to self fulfilling
prophecy—
If you’re willing—
costs an eye
and an ear
mad with fear.
Intercontinental Hotel Bar, Managua
January 25, 1982, 11 P.M.
Happening Now?
Happening now? End of Earth? Apocalypse days?
President says “Armageddon!” $254 Billion Military Budget!
The 5 A.M. subway train leaves Times Square
Crowded with murderers & corpses sitting in dress suits,
Earphones listening to mechanical disco, infinite
Deaf universe of Walkman Happening now
While I drink Perrier at parties in Bel Air
Neutron bomb Nerve Bacteria gas, fruit fly recombinant
Germ plasm, Stratospheric X-ray laser
Anti-rocket beams, MX Cruise Stealth & Pershing missiles
In dream ten years ago I stood on a South Texas crossroad
Walked out alone from what City I couldn’t remember
Half the sky was covered with ink-black cloud
Tanks and bombers moved toward the distant horizon
February 7, 1982
A Public Poetry
The fact is, the Russians are sissies
And Chinese big yellow sissies too
Americans by their nature sissies
Ran away to the New World & beat up Indians,
Now we’re gonna let Peabody Coal take their Four Corners away!
So sissy we exploded Atom Bombs on Japs!
I myself a famous sissy, it takes one to know one
and know State Secretary XYZ a prissy sissy
Gave his nickels to Indian killer Juntas in Guatemala
Too freaked out to look El Salvador Deathsquads in the eye
Yelling tiny Nicaragua’s a big threat to undernourished Mexico!
President ABC’s the biggest sissy
Hollywood sissy
Bechtel Corporation sissy
Such a sissy he gave 200 Billion Dollars to Pentagon Bullies
frightened they’ll beat him up if he don’t let the Generals grab all his money
And the American public’s sissy too
Scared if they don’t give everything in their pockets to Defense Department
the muscle men at the Pentagon and tough guys at CIA’ll
beat up Congress and Supreme Court
and take over the whole Western Block.
April 6, 1982, 2:00 P.M.
“What You Up To?”
“Oh just hanging around
picking my nose …”
I replied, embarrassed
in Naropa’s corridor,
the Sanskrit professor’d saluted me
as Americans are wont to do—
What must he think my genius,
a large red blob on my
index finger tip—
But I suffer from Bell’s palsy
my lower eyelid slightly paralyzed
no longer conducts tears thru
my nostril
thus my nose corridors dry up
& crack, for five years
whenever I lift the handkerchief
from my face
a spot of red stains the pure
cotton & shames me.
When I walk with bent spine & cane
will my nose be caked with
blood black & ulcerous? tears
running down my cheeks
a bony pinkie picking at the
scarlet scab that got thick
overnight, I forgot to grease my
wrinkled snout the nite
of my eightieth birthday
and dreamed all the red
mountain of mucus accumulated
round me
Himalaya of suffering gelatinous
slop my lifetime since 1976
Collected Poems 1947-1997 Page 70
