The Poetry Thread.

[eddie]

Shall we start again?
I composed something in my head while in hospital...............it's not very good but it's my first ever attempt, so I hope Mr Colt marks me accordingly.


Windows.

The night is dark the window says, as the curtains are undrawn.
I cannot hide because this place reminds me of where it was I was born.
Try to hide inside, but cant escape the fate that I have drawn.
The things that I have learnt to hate, they hover until dawn.
I've lived and loved and console myself with the people I adore,
But most of all I feel the guilt of those that I abhor.

Eddie

[A Country Member]

America
BY ALLEN GINSBERG
Berkeley, January 17, 1956


America I’ve given you all and now I’m nothing.

America two dollars and twentyseven cents January 17, 1956.

I can’t stand my own mind.

America when will we end the human war?

Go **** yourself with your atom bomb.

I don’t feel good don’t bother me.

I won’t write my poem till I’m in my right mind.

America when will you be angelic?

When will you take off your clothes?

When will you look at yourself through the grave?

When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?

America why are your libraries full of tears?

America when will you send your eggs to India?

I’m sick of your insane demands.

When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I need with my good looks?

America after all it is you and I who are perfect not the next world.

Your machinery is too much for me.

You made me want to be a saint.

There must be some other way to settle this argument.

Burroughs is in Tangiers I don’t think he’ll come back it’s sinister.

Are you being sinister or is this some form of practical joke?

I’m trying to come to the point.

I refuse to give up my obsession.

America stop pushing I know what I’m doing.

America the plum blossoms are falling.

I haven’t read the newspapers for months, everyday somebody goes on trial for murder.

America I feel sentimental about the Wobblies.

America I used to be a communist when I was a kid I’m not sorry.

I smoke marijuana every chance I get.

I sit in my house for days on end and stare at the roses in the closet.

When I go to Chinatown I get drunk and never get laid.

My mind is made up there’s going to be trouble.

You should have seen me reading Marx.

My psychoanalyst thinks I’m perfectly right.

I won’t say the Lord’s Prayer.

I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations.

America I still haven’t told you what you did to Uncle Max after he came over from Russia.

I’m addressing you.

Are you going to let your emotional life be run by Time Magazine?

I’m obsessed by Time Magazine.

I read it every week.

Its cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner candystore.

I read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library.

It’s always telling me about responsibility. Businessmen are serious. Movie producers are serious. Everybody’s serious but me.

It occurs to me that I am America.

I am talking to myself again.


Asia is rising against me.

I haven’t got a chinaman’s chance.

I’d better consider my national resources.

My national resources consist of two joints of marijuana millions of genitals an unpublishable private literature that jetplanes 1400 miles an hour and twentyfive-thousand mental institutions.

I say nothing about my prisons nor the millions of underprivileged who live in my flowerpots under the light of five hundred suns.

I have abolished the whorehouses of France, Tangiers is the next to go.

My ambition is to be President despite the fact that I’m a Catholic.


America how can I write a holy litany in your silly mood?

I will continue like Henry Ford my strophes are as individual as his automobiles more so they’re all different sexes.

America I will sell you strophes $2500 apiece $500 down on your old strophe

America free Tom Mooney

America save the Spanish Loyalists

America Sacco & Vanzetti must not die

America I am the Scottsboro boys.

America when I was seven momma took me to Communist Cell meetings they sold us garbanzos a handful per ticket a ticket costs a nickel and the speeches were free everybody was angelic and sentimental about the workers it was all so sincere you have no idea what a good thing the party was in 1835 Scott Nearing was a grand old man a real mensch Mother Bloor the Silk-strikers’ Ewig-Weibliche made me cry I once saw the Yiddish orator Israel Amter plain. Everybody must have been a spy.

America you don’t really want to go to war.

America its them bad Russians.

Them Russians them Russians and them Chinamen. And them Russians.

The Russia wants to eat us alive. The Russia’s power mad. She wants to take our cars from out our garages.

Her wants to grab Chicago. Her needs a Red Reader’s Digest. Her wants our auto plants in Siberia. Him big bureaucracy running our fillingstations.

That no good. Ugh. Him make Indians learn read. Him need big black niggers. Hah. Her make us all work sixteen hours a day. Help.

America this is quite serious.

America this is the impression I get from looking in the television set.

America is this correct?

I’d better get right down to the job.

It’s true I don’t want to join the Army or turn lathes in precision parts factories, I’m nearsighted and psychopathic anyway.

America I’m putting my queer shoulder to the wheel.

[eddie]

The Walrus and the Carpenter
BY LEWIS CARROLL

"The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright —

And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.


The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done —
"It's very rude of him," she said,
"To come and spoil the fun."


The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead —
There were no birds to fly.


The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
If this were only cleared away,'
They said, it would be grand!'


If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose,' the Walrus said,
That they could get it clear?'
I doubt it,' said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.


O Oysters, come and walk with us!'
The Walrus did beseech.
A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each.'


The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head —
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.


But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat —
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn't any feet.


Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more —
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.


The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.


The time has come,' the Walrus said,
To talk of many things:
Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax —
Of cabbages — and kings —
And why the sea is boiling hot —
And whether pigs have wings.'


But wait a bit,' the Oysters cried,
Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!'
No hurry!' said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.


A loaf of bread,' the Walrus said,
Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed —
Now if you're ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed.'


But not on us!' the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!'
The night is fine,' the Walrus said.
Do you admire the view?


It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!'
The Carpenter said nothing but
Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf —
I've had to ask you twice!'


It seems a shame,' the Walrus said,
To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!'
The Carpenter said nothing but
The butter's spread too thick!'


I weep for you,' the Walrus said:
I deeply sympathize.'
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.


O Oysters,' said the Carpenter,
You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
But answer came there none —
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd eaten every one."

[mightyrooster]

Shall we start again?
I composed something in my head while in hospital...............it's not very good but it's my first ever attempt, so I hope Mr Colt marks me accordingly.


Windows.

The night is dark the window says, as the curtains are undrawn.
I cannot hide because this place reminds me of where it was I was born.
Try to hide inside, but cant escape the fate that I have drawn.
The things that I have learnt to hate, they hover until dawn.
I've lived and loved and console myself with the people I adore,
But most of all I feel the guilt of those that I abhor.

Eddie

Very raw and touching Eddie. It’s beautiful.

[eddie]

Very raw and touching Eddie. It’s beautiful.

I'm flattered, thank you. Like I said it was my first effort.
I think poetry is up to the reader to decide its meaning. Many implications can be drawn depending on the individual point of view.

[mightyrooster]

I'm flattered, thank you. Like I said it was my first effort.
I think poetry is up to the reader to decide its meaning. Many implications can be drawn depending on the individual point of view.

That's very true

[eddie]

Ennui
Johnny Hart

I love to walk the golden fields,
And taste the buttercup.
But most of all I love the sound of water drying up.

[Jacks Fur Coat]

I'm flattered, thank you. Like I said it was my first effort.
I think poetry is up to the reader to decide its meaning. Many implications can be drawn depending on the individual point of view.

If thats your maiden effort Ed keep em comin.

The reader can sense where a piece is written from and yours comes from a tough place, and apart from evoking emotions it reeks with authenticity....and thats the big deal with any works.

[eddie]

Thanks Jax.
I dont think I've got the ability to be prolific.

[Paddo Colt 61]

[QUOTE=eddie;n973971]Shall we start again?
I composed something in my head while in hospital...............it's not very good but it's my first ever attempt, so I hope Mr Colt marks me accordingly.

Good first attempt Eddie. Needs a bit more work - I like the first line -very good - and the rhymes are very effective as well. Leonard Cohen-esque.

And Count, your Ginsberg belongs on the Ukraine thread. A blast from the Cold War that's fit for the present.

[007]

And Count, your Ginsberg belongs on the Ukraine thread. A blast from the Cold War that's fit for the present.

Oh, what a surprise comment. Sad you have to use your alter ego for back up. Or is it split personality? Seriously - get a life you absolute loser.

[Paddo Colt 61]

Sorry to break it to you but that's a label more appropriate to anyone who calls himself "007". Cheers!

[mightyrooster]

I think you'll find Paddo and A Country Member are not the same person. They may have similar ideologies which is why they seem to follow each other around but they do have two distinct personalities.

[Andrew Walker]

Unfortunately threre hasn’t been much poetry here Eddie’s poem was just beautiful The rest has been a disappointment

There was an old man named Jax
who got drunk and soiled his dacks
he liked to dance
but would pee his pants
uncontrollably if he heard the sax

[A Country Member]

I think you'll find Paddo and A Country Member are not the same person. They may have similar ideologies which is why they seem to follow each other around but they do have two distinct personalities.

I’m glad you finally worked that out.
But can you pick the others?