2.09.2009

"Pot is fun."


















HOWL -for Carl Solomon (by Allen Ginsberg)
(simply excerpts)


I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by 

              madness, starving hysterical naked, 

       dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn 

              looking for an angry fix, 

angelheaded hipsters burning for

 the ancient heavenly 

              connection to the starry dynamo in the machin- 

              ery of night, 

who were expelled from the academies for crazy & 

              publishing obscene odes on the windows of the 

              skull, 

who thought they were only mad when Baltimore 

              gleamed in supernatural ecstasy,

 who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting 

              the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism,

 who howled on their knees in the subway and were 

              dragged off the roof waving genitals and manu- 

              scripts,

who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out 

              if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had 

              a vision to find out Eternity,

who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space 

              through images juxtaposed, and trapped the 

              archangel of the soul between 2 visual images 

              and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun

 

              and dash of consciousness together jumping 

              with sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna 

              Deus 

       to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human 

              prose and stand

 before you speechless and intel- 

              ligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet con- 

              fessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm 

              of thought in his naked and endless head, 


II


What sphinx of cement and aluminum bashed open 

              their skulls and ate up their brains and imagi- 

              nation? 

       Moloch! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unob 

              tainable dollars! 

Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose 

              blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers 

              are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a canni- 

              bal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking 

              tomb! 

Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch 

              whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch 

              whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch 

              whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! 

              Moloch whose name is the Mind!

Moloch whose buildings are judgment! 


 Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stun- 

              ned governments! 

      

Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom 

              I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch 

              who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! 

              Moloch whom I abandon!


 Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisible suburbs! 

              skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic 

              industries! spectral nations! invincible mad 

              houses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!







































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