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The Artist's hommage to the poet Ginsberg

Poetry By: donkylemore

Summer 1967 , sitting in a pub
a beat artist / singer holding forth in the corner.
bearded black-eyed like his idol.
surrounded by lesser intellects
his paintings are strewn around the bar, he makes one sale.
and I'm distracted .........

Submitted:Jun 19, 2009    Reads: 72    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   

The drunken raucous bawcus , bowsie
Balladeer ,sitting in the corner of the bar
He's been bellowing out blasphemy
For an unbroken hour now

His Jewish concubine
Spreading his canvases along the counter
An enfeebled attempt at a boat in a harbour
Painted in the naive style
With dedicated consummation.

A bawling argument about the poet Ginsberg
And the meaning of Howl
And its place in the cannon of the
Beat generation ;
The composition ; the breathing
Long and short
And how he took his therapists advise
To become a poet

Evidently , we were that close to losing
Him as a poet
That close
I had never guessed ; had you ?

Someone comes timidly from the bar
As he's discussing in unilateral monotone
How Ginsberg had those hallucinations reading William Blake
He looks droop-eyed with disdain
At his Jewish concubine
Signaling in abstracted manner
That she conduct the bourgeoisie sale.
As if some lower form of existence did these things
And certainly not readers of the poet Ginsberg

With lugubrious languorous
Arm he picks up the guitar
As they fall in reverential silence
- No Body Knows You
-A Ha Ha-Ha Ha - Hem
- When you're down and out ..
Yea ! Man

-Its mighty strange
-But without a doubt
- No body knows you when you're
-Down and out

No Ginsberg didn't write that
He was Howling , remember
Since he got that auditory hallucination
Reading William Blake

Lucky for us he was persuaded
To write it in poetic format.
Nearly missed that too
As it was to be a performance poem
I never knew that either ; did you ?

- I mean baby……
- when you're down and out

Then the conversation returned
To the bearded mystic again
And how he subsequently provoked an obscenity trial.
Over the Howl.
And , you know I never knew that either

See ..someone told me that
This Jewess gave great head .
You miss things when you're in thrall
To bawdy boozy
Bellicose balladeers
In the dark of a public house
On a Summers afternoon.

But later I discovered that
She did
And I nearly missed that
Woul'dn't you


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