Jack Kerouac. "Mexico City Blues".

113th Chorus

Got up and dressed up
and went out & got laid
Then died and got buried
in a coffin in the grave,
Man—
Yet everything is perfect,
Because it is empty,
Because it is perfect
with emptiness,
Because it's not even happening.

Everything
Is Ignorant of its own emptiness—
Anger
Doesn't like to be reminded of fits—

You start with the Teaching
Inscrutable of the Diamond
And end with it, your goal
is your startingplace,
No race was run, no walk
of prophetic toenails
Across Arabies of hot
meaning—you just
numbly don't get there

Больше стихотворений о тщете американского бытия.=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

11th Chorus

And if you don't like the tone
of my poems
You can go jump in the lake.
I have been empowered
to lay my hand
On your shoulder
and remind you
That you are utterly free,
Free as empty space.
You dont have to be famous,
dont have to be perfect,
Dont have to work,
dont have to marry,
Dont have to carry burdens,
dont have to gnaw & kneel,
the taste
of rain-
Why kneel?
Dont even have to sit,
Gozomeen,
Like an endless rock camp
go ahead & blow,
Explode & go,
I wont say nothin,
neither this rock,
And my outhouse doesnt care,
And I got no body

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"When you become enlightened
you will know that you've
always been enlightened all along"

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

-HOW TO MEDITATE-

-lights out-
fall, hands a-clasped, into instantaneous ecstasy like a shot of heroin or morphine, the gland inside of my brain discharging the good glad fluid (Holy Fluid) as
I hap-down and hold all my body parts
down to a deadstop trance - Healing
all my sicknesses - erasing all - not
even the shred of a "I-hope-you" or a
Loony Balloon left in it, but the mind blank, serene, thoughtless. When a thought comes a-springing from afar with its held- forth figure of image, you spoof it out, you spuff it out, you fake it, and
it fades, and thought never comes - and with joy you realize for the first time "Thinking's just like not thinking -
So I don’t have to think
any more"

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Richmond Hill Blues

The Poet

So many times since
I've seen the poet
of Greenwich Village
Cutting to work in the gray dawn
With a lunchpail &
bleak haircut
Eyes to the Hudson
Nostril to the street
To winter, to work, beneficence,
Meals, fare of folly
So many times since
I've seen the poet
Who wrote rhythms & rhymes
To be mad in Minetta's
And Minetta Lane
Go Hurrying to Work
Sex hung, sexed, psycho-
analyzed?
To work in the unpoetic dawn
Mornings after I'd got drunk
with Lucien & Allen
& Allied Angels
In the Vast Manhattan
Fish-
O America!
Songs!
Poems!
Altos! Tenors!
Blow!
(Poet is Dead)

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

80th Chorus

San Francisco Blues
Written in a rocking chair
In the Cameo Hotel
San Francisco Skid row
Nineteen Fifty Four.
This pretty white city
On the other side of the country
Will no longer be
Available to me
I saw heaven move
Said "This is the End!"
Because I was tired
of all that portend.
And any time you need
me Call
I'll be at the other
end
Waiting
at the final hall

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Poor Sottish Kerouac

Poor sottish Kerouac with his thumb in his eye Getting interested in literature again
Though a mote of dust just flew by
How should I know that the dead were born? Does Master cry?
The weeds Orphelia wound with
And Chatterton measured in the moon
Are the weeds of Goethe, Wang Wei,
And the Golden Courtesans
Imagining recommending a prefecture For a man in the madhouse
---------rain----------
Sleep well, my angel
Make some eggs
The house in the moor
Is the house in the moor
The house is a monument
In the moor of the grave --------Whatever that means--------
The white dove descended in disguise?

@музыка: Bob Dylan - The House Of The Rising Sun

@настроение: I really fell in love with them.

@темы: delicatessen, bookworm