#ginsburg - Hello Poetry

"everything in the cosmos was going to be drawn into the poem, nothing must to be laughed at because it was already laughing, nothing was too serious because it was already grieving, the ache and the flirtation, all this range, this massive Spectrum , what a...what a thrill" Bono on Allen Ginsburg, Poet <*> gotta tell ya, every time I read this quote, two things happen: get a headache and must lie/lay down and no. 2, people who took a lotta drugs write pretty good poems and songs so where did I go wrong?

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Jun 7, 2025

Jun 7, 2025 at 11:43 PM UTC

nat-lipstadt

The ache and the flirtation of this massive Spectrum

"everything in the cosmos was going to be drawn into the poem, nothing must to be laughed at because it was already laughing, nothing was too serious because it was already grieving, the ache and the flirtation, all this range, this massive Spectrum , what a...what a thrill" Bono on Allen Ginsburg, Poet <*> gotta tell ya, every time I read this quote, two things happen: get a headache and must lie/lay down and no. 2, people who took a lotta drugs write pretty good poems and songs so where did I go wrong?

20

Long arm gendarme My mistake namaste Backpack bivouac On the Road with Kerouac Brilliant stars, silent nights Fireflies, Northern Lights Mountain streams, fresh air Fall asleep anywhere Small town, take a chance Pig roast, barn dance Allemande left! Do-si-do! Spontaneity here we go! Long arm gendarme My mistake namaste Backpack bivouac On the Road with Kerouac Beat Zen's hey-day Doing things our own way Nonconformity, anything goes Kerouac-Ginsburg-Burroughs Shot to pieces, picking skin Benzedrine, adrenaline Don't forget the Phenergan Notify our next of kin Long arm gendarme My mistake namaste Backpack bivouac On the Road with Kerouac

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Oct 19, 2019

Oct 19, 2019 at 12:11 PM UTC

poetry2go

Beat Generation

Long arm gendarme My mistake namaste Backpack bivouac On the Road with Kerouac Brilliant stars, silent nights Fireflies, Northern Lights Mountain streams, fresh air Fall asleep anywhere Small town, take a chance Pig roast, barn dance Allemande left! Do-si-do! Spontaneity here we go! Long arm gendarme My mistake namaste Backpack bivouac On the Road with Kerouac Beat Zen's hey-day Doing things our own way Nonconformity, anything goes Kerouac-Ginsburg-Burroughs Shot to pieces, picking skin Benzedrine, adrenaline Don't forget the Phenergan Notify our next of kin Long arm gendarme My mistake namaste Backpack bivouac On the Road with Kerouac

28

The ****** sits on the curb, Her hands knotted together, white at the knuckles and Red on the light palms, Blue of veins and purple under A bruised fingernail, Slammed in a car door a week before. The heels of her shoes are caked in Earth, Heavy, But she feels light, For her hair smells of cigarette smoke And her breath of whiskey and songs And she knows she can’t go home like this, So she listens in the still, thin air for The sound of a train whistle, Something to take her away, Something that won’t let her look back.

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Dec 29, 2014

Dec 29, 2014 at 3:03 PM UTC

livi-bowie

December in Rockland

The ****** sits on the curb, Her hands knotted together, white at the knuckles and Red on the light palms, Blue of veins and purple under A bruised fingernail, Slammed in a car door a week before. The heels of her shoes are caked in Earth, Heavy, But she feels light, For her hair smells of cigarette smoke And her breath of whiskey and songs And she knows she can’t go home like this, So she listens in the still, thin air for The sound of a train whistle, Something to take her away, Something that won’t let her look back.

17