Allen Ginsberg Sucks!
Allen Ginsberg Wants You - by Jesus Crisis
[Began in May 1997 after Ginsberg's death - Resurrected and finished in May 2008]
Allen Ginsberg
You sucked
The cock of life
Drained the bulging bone of its marrow
Honed in on our howling
With your eye on the sparrow
And spit out godly children
A spectacularly spiritual spawn to carry on
Your sacramental work in our wordsick world
A fellatio facial
For earthfolk fine and fucked
Allen Ginsberg
Your poetic prick
Penetrated us
Probed the pettiness,
Prettiness,
Power and pride
Hungrily hardening inside us
Then withdrew to
Spew your gooey godliness
On the just and the unjust
Before turning wholly dust
To order Allen Ginsberg works from my Amazon bookstore click here.
To read "John Cage Engaged and Uncaged" by Jesus Crisis click here.
To visit the Allen Ginsberg Project online click here.
jesus john. i'm still absorbing yesterday's blog and now you post this?
this is amazing.
i'll be back again once i stop feeling so speechless...
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Thanks, mb.
I've been holding onto it for about a week, not sure if I should post it here.
Finally, I couldn't hold it back any longer.
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had to "Spew your gooey godliness"?
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I'm afraid I have little godliness to spew...
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funny, i seem to recall you spewing a little godliness in this blog...
http://crisisblog.crisischronicles.com/2008/01/17/hate-mail-good-news-and-my-prayer-for-you.aspx
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the word of the Lord?...
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Genius! Love it, a great tribute to a brilliant artist.
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Thank you so much, Dana! And welcome....
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I enjoyed your poem, but I always thought Ginsberg to be the most overrated of all the Beats. However, I do have to admit that I applaud his efforts in getting Burroughs published.
Burroughs and Kerouac are my two favorite writers from the Beat Generation. I've always thought Ginsberg to be a flatulent hack. That's just my opinion, I could be mistaken.
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Thanks, man! Actually, I must agree that especially in his later poems Allen could sometimes seem a flatulent hack. But when he was at the top of his game he was quite brilliant. I think his early work is fantastic. But some of his 80s poems made me a bit embarrassed for him.
Kerouac and Burroughs were definitely more consistent in their greatness - rarely (if ever) published anything shitty. I think Ginsberg at his best was at least as good - even better. Too bad much of his work isn't....
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alliteration is the best device, the topic is my favorite vice
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Thanks, Anna!
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I had better post my pathetic thoughts on the previous one... I will be back...
Thinking... thinking....
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I like your alliteration, but deeply doubt your thoughts will even approach pathetic.
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I think I'm too young to read this one..LOL. Actually, I need time to "digest" this piece.
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You made me laugh out loud.
After the "count" piece I posted yesterday was so well received, I thought I should balance the scales with something more "male."
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I guess you picked up and savored the scent of A. Ginsberg but it is so far from
the attar of roses and the spring wind that blows fresh clean air through my hair.
Dust unto dust he becomes as the pages yellow and wither with age and mold.
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What Jesus hath called "wholly" let no man call unholy
In a sense we are all "wholly dust" - but for a microscopic slice of etenity we are dust with breath.
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We are indeed all of us made of dust, stardust. My father-in-law is a scientist, but I can't remember his interpretation. Not a problem, He treats me to the same anecdotes about a hundred times each.
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Good point, Tara!
I believe Carl Sagan said something like that as well - called it "star stuff," if my memory is accurate (it's been a long time since I read it). You also remind me of this Joni Mitchell song:
"I came upon a child of God
He was walking along the road
And I asked him where are you going
And this he told me
I'm going on down to Yasgur's farm
I'm going to join in a rock 'n' roll band
I'm going to camp out on the land
I'm going to try an' get my soul free
We are stardust
We are golden
And we've got to get ourselves
Back to the garden...."
Copyright © Siquomb Publishing Company
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Love the beats and your poem rocks. Me likie, but then again it's one of my favorite subjects.
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LOL... thanks, bro!
I'm glad you likie.
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Who is this fella Tio y'all is talkin about? Do I know him? Is he fun to be with? LMAO
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Ha! I believe he moonlights as a cunning linguist, or something of the sort.
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With that last revelation I think I will
hit the hay with tongue in cheek. Muy buenas noches, Juanito...
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very ginsbergian
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That's what I was aiming for - so I'll consider that a compliment.
Here's the original I wrote in prison (I thought the first part was good, but then it didn't go anywhere) before I finished it last week:
Allen Ginsberg
You sucked the cock of life
Drained the bone of its marrow
And spit out beautiful children
To carry on.
I think I'd just learned of his death from a Rolling Stone magazine.
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Darn John... someone else I need to add to the stack of things I'm reading... geez...
Like it... it's edgy and in your face literally.
As I said I like it....
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Thanks, Chris!
My favorites by him are his early collections (rather small, but full of punch) Howl and Other Poems, Kaddish and Other Poems, and Reality Sandwiches. But if you acquire his Collected Poems, it includes all those in their entirety as well as much more. I have the version that includes everything from 1947 to 1980. But since I got that, they've published a new edition of Collected Poems that goes from 1947 to 1997. Fifty years of poetry!
There's another book available through the Amazon link that I've never seen before and plan to get: Allen Ginsberg's Buddhist Poetics. It might have something about the mahamudra exercise I mentioned in the blog Neurotic Confusion - Ordinary Mind .
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You get some of the most fascinating conversations going here...
Alas, what I know of the 'Beats', I learned and am still learning from my 20 yo son. He loves Kerouac and Lebowsky and that entire crowd.
Fascinating, brilliant and complicated men...like all genuises I suppose.
Thanks for the learning experience..I love it.
Your poem was powerful, hit me right in the face....like a sucker punch, excellent. Truly moving, not weepy, but to ellicite ANY emotion through your words is a gift! (You know that)
This one brought me straight up in my chair and at full alert! lol
Hugs,
Suze
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Thank you so much, Suzette! Sometimes it seems the comments are the best part of the blog - and I have friends like you to thank for that.
I plan to read this poem at the Barking Spider's open mic tomorrow - my first ever public reading. This is one I suspect will work better read aloud than it does on the page. The hardest part will be not bursting out in laughter at an inappropriate place in the poem.
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You can call and leave it on my voicemail at about 2am.
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Reading this aloud I found it had REAL IMPACT and a lot of expression. This is not a feminine poem so it has to be read in a masculine voice, deep and resounding.
WOW! it is very phallic. I would like to see the audience reaction when you read it at the Barking Spider. My friends often go there. Maybe you could video tape it? What would Ginsberg think from his dusty grave? Would he roll over in his eternal abyss? lol
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I hope Ginsberg would be pleased.
I won't tape it at the BS - but thought about taping it at home.
One never knows....
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lol
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Boy, Jeff Goldblum sure looks like Ginsberg.
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that's it! thank you lady!
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Amazing the resemblance... and it never occurred to me til you mentioned it.
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We should do a screenplay and sell it to Goldblum. I'm good with the visual and camera moves stuff. That's what I do.
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That would be very cool.
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lol wow
what's your say on kerouac? lmao
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His first name might play a prominent role... lol.
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I like Kerouac and Corso as well. Such sardonic humor. "They want to make buttons out of my bones". I could see you writing something like this.
The Mad Yak
I am watching them churn the last milk they'll ever get from me.
They are waiting for me to die;
They want to make buttons out of my bones.
Where are my sisters and brothers?
That tall monk there, loading my uncle, he has a new cap.
And that idiot student of his--
I never saw that muffler before.
Poor uncle, he lets them load him.
How sad he is, how tired!
I wonder what they'll do with his bones?
And that beautiful tail!
How many shoelaces will they make of that!
Gregory Corso
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Oh yes!
I happen to love Gregory Corso. I became interested in him in prison, after reading about his association with the other "Beats" I love - and was fortunate enough to be ale to order some of his work through inter-library loan from the Cleveland Public Library.
Here's a favorite passage, from his "Elegiac Feelings American":
"What happened to him?" "What happened to you?" Death happened him; a gypped life happened; a God gone sick happened; a dream nightmared; a youth armied; an army massacred; the father wants to eat the son, the son feeds his stone, but the father no get stoned." - Gregory Corso
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Hello!
You seem to have a definite talent with internal rhyme and alliteration--I love the use of pettiness/prettiness in this poem. Also, the fact that you captured the raw energy of Ginsberg using sexuality but not in a trite way--he was a very in-your-face character who was lewd but also alluring.
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Thank you, Rebekah! Welcome to my blog. And your kind words mean a great deal to me! Peace....
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Oh, and one of mine involving Ginsberg--a short little ditty I wrote when studying Richard Brautigan's work:
The Breakup versus Allen Ginsberg
How dare you leave!
I have been standing here motionless for days
Baiting the traps just so you can hear its Howl!
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Wow! I dig it!
Thanks for sharing it.
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eye think this is what eye like about you you have a style that is constantly changing and a human as well grandchildren you said well my style is so different and eye never change a word it would change the poem for me but yours evolves and keeps the original meaning as well please never stop no poem no url from me just this not of praise just smoozing again
(note)ED.NOTE found the e AHHAHHAAH
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http://www.csuohio.edu/poetrycenter/
WOW eye found a link for YOU
The “Open” Competition is limited to poets who have published at least one full-length collection of their poems (a book that is at least 48 pages in length with a press run of at least 500). The First Book Competition is for poets who have not previously published a full-length collection.
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Very cool! Thank you!
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Thanks for taking time to help
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