Jazz & the Beat Generation

from On The Road –  “They ate voraciously as Dean [Neal Cassady], sandwich in hand, stood bowed and jumping before the big phonograph, listening to a wild bop record I had just bought called “The Hunt,” with Dexter Gordon and Wardell Gray blowing their tops before a screaming audience that gave the record fantastic frenzied volume.”…

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The Beats in India

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First Party At Ken Kesey’s With Hell’s Angels by Allen Ginsberg

Cool black night thru redwoods
cars parked outside in shade
behind the gate, stars dim above
the ravine, a fire burning by the side
porch and a few tired souls hunched over
in black leather jackets. In the huge
wooden house, a yellow chandelier 
at 3 A.M. the blast of loudspeakers
hi-fi Rolling Stones Ray Charles Beatles
Jumping Joe Jackson and twenty youths
dancing to the vibration thru the floor,
a little weed in the bathroom, girls in scarlet
tights, one muscular smooth skinned man
sweating dancing for hours, beer cans
bent littering the yard, a hanged man
sculpture dangling from a high creek branch,
children sleeping softly in their bedroom bunks.
And 4 police cars parked outside the painted
gate, red lights revolving in the leaves.

 

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Allen Ginsberg visual poetry

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Allen Ginsberg poetry

The sparrow shits

upside down

—ah! my brain & eggs

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Allen Ginsberg’s (non-traditional) haiku

Haiku (Never Published)

Drinking my tea
Without sugar-
No difference.

Mayan head in a
Pacific driftwood bole
—Someday I’ll live in N.Y.

Looking over my shoulder
my behind was covered
with cherry blossoms.

Winter Haiku
I didn’t know the names 
of the flowers—now
my garden is gone.

I slapped the mosquito
and missed.
What made me do that?

Reading haiku
I am unhappy,
longing for the Nameless.

A frog floating 
in the drugstore jar:
summer rain on grey pavements.
(after Shiki)

On the porch
in my shorts;
auto lights in the rain.

Another year
has past-the world
is no different.

The first thing I looked for 
in my old garden was
The Cherry Tree.

My old desk:
the first thing I looked for
in my house.

My early journal:
the first thing I found
in my old desk.

My mother’s ghost:
the first thing I found
in the living room.

I quit shaving
but the eyes that glanced at me
remained in the mirror.

The madman 
emerges from the movies:
the street at lunchtime.

Cities of boys
are in their graves,
and in this town…

Lying on my side
in the void:
the breath in my nose.

On the fifteenth floor
the dog chews a bone-
Screech of taxicabs.

A hardon in New York,
a boy
in San Fransisco.

The moon over the roof,
worms in the garden.
I rent this house.


[Haiku composed in the backyard cottage at 1624
Milvia Street, Berkeley, 1955] 

This was posted 1 year ago. It has 14 notes.
I’m on an Allen Ginsberg spree tonight.

I loved his poem “Kaddish”.  The story is tragic and inspires a reaction, something many poems lack.  A reaction, positive or negative, is better than passive rejection.  

I’m on an Allen Ginsberg spree tonight.

I loved his poem “Kaddish”.  The story is tragic and inspires a reaction, something many poems lack.  A reaction, positive or negative, is better than passive rejection.  

This was posted 1 year ago. It has 61 notes. .
Haiku by Allen Ginsberg

Haiku by Allen Ginsberg

This was posted 1 year ago. It has 13 notes. .
This was posted 1 year ago. It has 13 notes. .
We are blind and live our blind lives out in blindness. Poets are damned by they are not blind, they see with the eyes of the angels.
William Carlos Williams, in his Introduction to Allen Ginsberg’s Howl and Other Poems
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Allen Ginsberg writing about love.  

Allen Ginsberg writing about love.  

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Power comes from imagination.
 Allen Ginsberg
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Irwin Allen Ginsberg

A passionate poet, Allen Ginsberg is the author of Howl, a poem that was put on trial for being “obscene” and electrified audiences.  

(Source: nostroviawriting.wordpress.com)

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