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 Apr 2014 J
Tree
Natural Disaster
 Apr 2014 J
Tree
I feel a storm brewing when you're around.
You are the thunder in my heart,
you are the lightening in my veins.

I continue breathing so that I may continue catching
drops of you on my tongue.
I want them to absorb into my body
and become one with me.

I've always loved a good storm.
Here's a pretty rough one, but I like the concept.
 Apr 2014 J
Katrina Maria
She paints her toes
Put her best face on
Cat eye wings drawn
Red lipstick promises
A tender heart beneath
White teeth lie and bite
Hide the charred insides
Assuming her favorite disguise
Her smile shows no sign of grace
Darker than the dead of space
Heat and chemical sprays
No part of her left genuine
A glance in the mirror
Before she goes out
Nothing can touch her
Except her own doubt

Perfect, she breathes
Perfect, she lies
Perfect, she screams
Perfect, she dies
 Apr 2014 J
st64
If I were doing my Laundry I'd wash my ***** Iran
I'd throw in my United States, and pour on the Ivory Soap, scrub up Africa, put all the birds and elephants back in the jungle,
I'd wash the Amazon river and clean the oily Carib & Gulf of Mexico,  
Rub that smog off the North Pole, wipe up all the pipelines in Alaska,  
Rub a dub dub for Rocky Flats and Los Alamos,
Flush that sparkly Cesium out of Love Canal

Rinse down the Acid Rain over the Parthenon & Sphinx, Drain Sludge out of the Mediterranean basin & make it azure again,
Put some blueing back into the sky over the Rhine, bleach the little Clouds so snow return white as snow,
Cleanse the Hudson Thames & Neckar, Drain the Suds out of Lake Erie  

Then I'd throw big Asia in one giant Load & wash out the blood & Agent Orange,
Dump the whole mess of Russia and China in the wringer, squeeze out the tattletail Gray of U.S. Central American police state,
& put the planet in the drier & let it sit 20 minutes or an Aeon
till it came out clean.




                                                     Allen Ginsberg
                                                    Bou­lder, 26 April, 1980








.
Allen Ginsberg (1926–1997)


One of the most respected Beat writers and acclaimed American poets of his generation, Allen Ginsberg enjoys a prominent place in post-World War II American culture.
He was born in 1926 in Newark, New Jersey, and raised in nearby Paterson. The son of an English teacher and Russian expatriate, Ginsberg’s early life was marked by his mother’s psychological troubles, including a series of nervous breakdowns.
In 1943, while studying at Columbia University, Ginsberg befriended William Burroughs and Jack Kerouac, and the trio later established themselves as pivotal figures in the Beat Movement. Known for their unconventional views, and frequently rambunctious behavior, Ginsberg and his friends also experimented with drugs.

On one occasion, Ginsberg used his college dorm room to store stolen goods acquired by an acquaintance. Faced with prosecution, Ginsberg decided to plead insanity and subsequently spent several months in a mental institution. After graduating from Columbia, Ginsberg remained in New York City and worked various jobs.

Ginsberg first came to public attention in 1956 with the publication of Howl and Other Poems.
“Howl,” a long-lined poem in the tradition of Walt Whitman, is an outcry of rage and despair against a destructive, abusive society.
Kevin O'Sullivan, writing in Newsmakers, deemed “Howl” “an angry, sexually explicit poem”, considered by many to be a revolutionary event in American poetry.
The poem's raw, honest language and its “Hebraic-Melvillian bardic breath,” as Ginsberg called it, stunned many traditional critics.

Richard Eberhart, for example, called “Howl” “a powerful work, cutting through to dynamic meaning…It is a howl against everything in our mechanistic civilization which kills the spirit…Its positive force and energy come from a redemptive quality of love.”
Appraising the impact of “Howl,” Paul Zweig noted that it “almost singlehandedly dislocated the traditionalist poetry of the 1950s.”
In addition to stunning critics, Howl stunned the San Francisco Police Department. Because of the graphic ****** language of the poem, they declared the book obscene and arrested the publisher, poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti.

Ginsberg's political activities were called strongly libertarian in nature, echoing his poetic preference for individual expression over traditional structure.
In the mid-1960s he was closely associated with the counterculture and antiwar movements. He created and advocated “flower power,” a strategy in which antiwar demonstrators would promote positive values like peace and love to dramatize their opposition to the death and destruction caused by the Vietnam War. The use of flowers, bells, smiles, and mantras (sacred chants) became common among demonstrators.

Sometimes Ginsberg's politics prompted reaction from law-enforcement authorities. He was arrested at an antiwar demonstration in New York City in 1967 and tear-gassed at the Democratic National Convention in Chicago in 1968.
In 1972 he was jailed for demonstrating against then-President Richard Nixon at the Republican National Convention in Miami.
In 1978 he and long-time companion Peter Orlovsky were arrested for sitting on train tracks in order to stop a trainload of radioactive waste coming from the Rocky Flats Nuclear Weapons Plant in Colorado.
Ginsberg's political activities caused him problems in other countries as well.

Another continuing concern reflected in Ginsberg's poetry was a focus on the spiritual and visionary. His interest in these matters was inspired by a series of visions he had while reading William Blake's poetry, and he recalled hearing “a very deep earthen grave voice in the room, which I immediately assumed, I didn't think twice, was Blake's voice.”
He added that “the peculiar quality of the voice was something unforgettable because it was like God had a human voice, with all the infinite tenderness and anciency and mortal gravity of a living Creator speaking to his son.”
Such visions prompted an interest in mysticism that led Ginsberg to experiment, for a time, with various drugs.
After a journey to India in 1962, however, during which he was introduced to meditation and yoga, Ginsberg changed his attitude towards drugs. He became convinced that meditation and yoga were far superior in raising one's consciousness, while still maintaining that psychedelics could prove helpful in writing poetry.

Ginsberg's study of Eastern religions was spurred on by his discovery of mantras, rhythmic chants used for spiritual effects.
During poetry readings he often began by chanting a mantra in order to set the proper mood.
In 1972 Ginsberg took the Refuge and Boddhisattva vows, formally committing himself to the Buddhist faith.

In 1974 Ginsberg and fellow-poet Anne Waldman co-founded the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics as a branch of Trungpa's Naropa Institute.
“The ultimate idea is to found a permanent arts college,” Ginsberg said of the school, “sort of like they have in Tibetan tradition where you have teachers and students living together in a permanent building which would go on for hundreds of years.”

Ginsberg lived a kind of literary “rags to riches”—from his early days as the feared, criticized, and “*****” poet to his later position within what Richard Kostelanetz called “the pantheon of American literature.”
He was one of the most influential poets of his generation and, in the words of James F. Mersmann, “a great figure in the history of poetry.”
Because of his rise to influence and his staying power as a figure in American art and culture, Ginsberg's work was the object of much scholarly attention throughout his lifetime.

In the spring of 1997, while already plagued with diabetes and chronic hepatitis, Ginsberg was diagnosed with liver cancer.
After learning of this illness, Ginsberg promptly produced twelve brief poems. The next day he suffered a stroke and lapsed into a coma. Two days later, he died.

How would Ginsberg have liked to be remembered?
“As someone in the tradition of the oldtime American transcendentalist individualism,” he said, “from that old gnostic tradition…Thoreau, Emerson, Whitman…just carrying it on into the 20th century.”
Ginsberg once explained that among human faults he was most tolerant of anger; in his friends he most appreciated tranquility and ****** tenderness; his ideal occupation would be “articulating feelings in company.”
“Like it or not, no voice better echoes his times than Mr. Ginsberg's,” concluded a reviewer in the Economist.
“He was a bridge between the literary avant-garde and pop culture.”
 Apr 2014 J
Forrest Jorgensen
An overcast sky poured upon the earth
Today. It seemed like it would never stop,
Then it did, and the city was flooded:
A shallow sea of silent standing water .

So I made three paper boats, and
Walked to the new ocean with them,
And cast them from my withered hands
To sail into oblivion.

I watched them glide down the glistening streets
Ever away from me, then I thought of you –
How we would cross the oceans together,
Where I learned how to swim, and how to love.

Then the last of the paper boats had gone –
Down wind, on some futile little journey.
I imagined you at the helm of one,
And I at the bow, looking back at you.
I wrote this during a flash flood. I actually did make some paper boats and set them loose.
 Apr 2014 J
Nevermore
Tav
 Apr 2014 J
Nevermore
Tav
After you left
My cigarettes tasted dull
The electricity in the air vanished
And my thoughts lost their luster
How could I frolic in the playground of my mind
When your voice still echoes
Bouncing around
From dank nook to dusty corner
And stirs and disturbs
Tired emotions
Long meant to be put to rest.

******* on my **** stick
On the abandoned sidewalk
I can still see us
Five feet away
Breathing each other's smoke
Beaming smiles at passing cars
Exchanging inanities
While I gorged
On lies of grins and fraternal love.

At the hazy bottom of the bottle
Later that night
Is when I realize
I only exist
In between our hellos and goodbyes.
I wish you never left.
 Apr 2014 J
CA Guilfoyle
Plume
 Apr 2014 J
CA Guilfoyle
Plume, it is soft upon my lips
sometimes I am found
in newborn, downy feathered love
soft pillow of dreams
my soul sinks deep
within
 Apr 2014 J
Auroleus
I was in a public restroom at the mall takin' a leak in one of those urinals.
There happened to be a TDH (tall dark and handsome) man standing next to me.
And as we were peeing in unison, I leaned over, leaned back,
Looked him in the eyes and said, "Nice ****, ******."

Why is he looking at my ****?
Is he gay?
Did he just call ME a ******?
Is he confused about his sexuality?
Why do I feel insecure about my **** all of a sudden?
What just happened?


I finished peeing before he did,
So I took my ***** self over to the sink and proceeded to wash my hands.
It wasn't long before TDH was by my side.
We were now washing our hands in unison and he looks over at me and says,
"Nice hands, ******."

Is he hitting on me?
Is he really gay?
Do I really have nice hands?
Does he want to touch them?
Is he just ******* with me?
I don't know what's happening but I like it =)


Turns out he wasn't gay... nor was I.  
We both just happened to be in the business of belittling strangers
With contradictory insults for no apparent reason.
It was a good day.
 Apr 2014 J
Wendell A Brown
Your beauty touches of a stars heavenly radiance
For in your face is captured their celestial glow
In blissful pools of endless starlight splashing
And I alone my love will always deeply know

The value of your beautifully enchanting eyes
Which securely hold in bond my heart each day
In a powerless confinement of cupids sweet adore
Where my love easily grows in an abounding way

For deep in my dreams I have always sought
Your heart's love which daily endears my mind
For it has always been my heart's fervent desire
To of your sweet love belong an infinite time

For to serve the daily needs of your lovely heart
Each day  leaves my face with an enthralling glow
Knowing I will never have a single desire to depart
Those beautifully enchanting eyes who love me so.
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