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Collected Poems, 1947-1980
"Ginsberg is both tragic and dynamic, a lyrical genius, con-man extraordinaire and probably the single greatest influence on American poetical voice since Walt Whitman."--Bob Dylan
864 pages, paper
First published January 1, 1984
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About the author
Allen Ginsberg
489 books4,086 followersAllen Ginsberg was a groundbreaking American poet and activist best known for his central role in the Beat Generation and for writing the landmark poem Howl. Born in 1926 in Newark, New Jersey, to Jewish parents, Ginsberg grew up in a household shaped by both intellectualism and psychological struggle. His father, Louis Ginsberg, was a published poet and a schoolteacher, while his mother, Naomi, suffered from severe mental illness, which deeply affected Ginsberg and later influenced his writing—most notably in his poem Kaddish.
As a young man, Ginsberg attended Columbia University, where he befriended other future Beat luminaries such as Jack Kerouac, William S. Burroughs, and Neal Cassady. These relationships formed the core of what became known as the Beat Generation—a loose-knit group of writers and artists who rejected mainstream American values in favor of personal liberation, spontaneity, spiritual exploration, and radical politics.
Ginsberg rose to national prominence in 1956 with the publication of Howl and Other Poems, released by City Lights Books in San Francisco. Howl, an emotionally charged and stylistically experimental poem, offered an unfiltered vision of America’s underbelly. It included candid references to homosexuality, drug use, and mental illness—subjects considered taboo at the time. The poem led to an obscenity trial, which ultimately concluded in Ginsberg’s favor, setting a precedent for freedom of speech in literature.
His work consistently challenged social norms and addressed themes of personal freedom, sexual identity, spirituality, and political dissent. Ginsberg was openly gay at a time when homosexuality was still criminalized in much of the United States, and he became a vocal advocate for LGBTQ+ rights throughout his life. His poetry often intertwined the personal with the political, blending confessional intimacy with a broader critique of American society.
Beyond his literary achievements, Ginsberg was also a dedicated activist. He protested against the Vietnam War, nuclear proliferation, and later, U.S. foreign policy in Latin America. He was present at many pivotal cultural and political moments of the 1960s and 1970s, including the 1968 Democratic National Convention and various countercultural gatherings. His spiritual journey led him to Buddhism, which deeply influenced his writing and worldview. He studied under Tibetan teacher Chögyam Trungpa and helped establish the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics at Naropa University in Boulder, Colorado.
Ginsberg’s later years were marked by continued literary output and collaborations with musicians such as Bob Dylan and The Clash. His poetry collections, including Reality Sandwiches, Planet News, and The Fall of America, were widely read and respected. He received numerous honors for his work, including the National Book Award for Poetry in 1974.
He died of liver cancer in 1997 at the age of 70. Today, Allen Ginsberg is remembered not only as a pioneering poet, but also as a courageous voice for free expression, social justice, and spiritual inquiry. His influence on American literature and culture remains profound and enduring.
As a young man, Ginsberg attended Columbia University, where he befriended other future Beat luminaries such as Jack Kerouac, William S. Burroughs, and Neal Cassady. These relationships formed the core of what became known as the Beat Generation—a loose-knit group of writers and artists who rejected mainstream American values in favor of personal liberation, spontaneity, spiritual exploration, and radical politics.
Ginsberg rose to national prominence in 1956 with the publication of Howl and Other Poems, released by City Lights Books in San Francisco. Howl, an emotionally charged and stylistically experimental poem, offered an unfiltered vision of America’s underbelly. It included candid references to homosexuality, drug use, and mental illness—subjects considered taboo at the time. The poem led to an obscenity trial, which ultimately concluded in Ginsberg’s favor, setting a precedent for freedom of speech in literature.
His work consistently challenged social norms and addressed themes of personal freedom, sexual identity, spirituality, and political dissent. Ginsberg was openly gay at a time when homosexuality was still criminalized in much of the United States, and he became a vocal advocate for LGBTQ+ rights throughout his life. His poetry often intertwined the personal with the political, blending confessional intimacy with a broader critique of American society.
Beyond his literary achievements, Ginsberg was also a dedicated activist. He protested against the Vietnam War, nuclear proliferation, and later, U.S. foreign policy in Latin America. He was present at many pivotal cultural and political moments of the 1960s and 1970s, including the 1968 Democratic National Convention and various countercultural gatherings. His spiritual journey led him to Buddhism, which deeply influenced his writing and worldview. He studied under Tibetan teacher Chögyam Trungpa and helped establish the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics at Naropa University in Boulder, Colorado.
Ginsberg’s later years were marked by continued literary output and collaborations with musicians such as Bob Dylan and The Clash. His poetry collections, including Reality Sandwiches, Planet News, and The Fall of America, were widely read and respected. He received numerous honors for his work, including the National Book Award for Poetry in 1974.
He died of liver cancer in 1997 at the age of 70. Today, Allen Ginsberg is remembered not only as a pioneering poet, but also as a courageous voice for free expression, social justice, and spiritual inquiry. His influence on American literature and culture remains profound and enduring.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 82 reviews
September 11, 2025
“In a thousand years, if there’s History
America’ll be remembered as a nasty little Country
full of Pricks”
Man, I have just looooved Allen Ginsberg, ever since he intoned “Do The Worm on Acropolis/Slam dance Cosmopolis” on that Clash album, only I just, y’know, never got around to reading any of the man’s actual poetry. So, when I saw this brick of a tome in a little bookshop in Sante Fe for only fifteen bucks last year, I thought, “Yes! I am totally gonna binge my way through this 20th century Beat icon!”
Except, uh, no. I don’t think you can really binge 750+ pages of anything.
Especially the way I do it. Trying to say them all out loud, using the cadence I could best deduce Ginsberg intended. Which is kind of like trying to do a tapestry-sized jigsaw puzzle with half the knobs snipped off of all the little pieces. So, yeah, it took a while.
“Howl” (1956) is The Big One, of course. And it’s damn good for sure, but the far more resonant and enduring masterpiece for me is “Kaddish” (1959), his agonizing, epic elegy to his mother’s decades-long descent into madness. So amazing I want to show it to everybody I know, and so horrifying I never want to see it again. But you can’t un-see it. It’s there now, a part of me.
Later, as you get into the late sixties, there's a lot of poems where he’s traveling somewhere, by car, or train, or plane. He's looking out the window, half-heartedly word-sketching the random nothingness flying by, and clearly so dismayed by the Vietnam war that every passing grain silo or factory yard reminds him that all American productivity is tangentially complicit. In short, he feels hopeless. Which is pretty much how I feel about the current state of America. Unlike me though, Ginsberg wasn’t just sitting on his ass. The man was out there, at every demonstration, be-in, love-in, sit-in, laugh-in, and throw-down. And using his artistic gifts and relative celebrity to keep up a strident counter-voice to the madness of his times. Did all that resistance actually cheer him up though? Give him hope? I don’t know, because he sure as hell never expresses it in the poems.
There’s also a lot here about sucking cock. Sure, I knew the dude was gay, not that there’s anything wrong with that, but it just doesn’t stir my loins. That’s why the next 800-page book I intend to tackle is The Norton Anthology of Letters to Penthouse.
Overall, the passage that most spoke to me was almost laughingly simple, but I think it's going to be my new mantra, a little wisdom to carry me through America's sad, hollowing-out era:
“Well, while I’m here I’ll
do the work—
and what’s the Work?
To ease the pain of living.”
America’ll be remembered as a nasty little Country
full of Pricks”
Man, I have just looooved Allen Ginsberg, ever since he intoned “Do The Worm on Acropolis/Slam dance Cosmopolis” on that Clash album, only I just, y’know, never got around to reading any of the man’s actual poetry. So, when I saw this brick of a tome in a little bookshop in Sante Fe for only fifteen bucks last year, I thought, “Yes! I am totally gonna binge my way through this 20th century Beat icon!”
Except, uh, no. I don’t think you can really binge 750+ pages of anything.
Especially the way I do it. Trying to say them all out loud, using the cadence I could best deduce Ginsberg intended. Which is kind of like trying to do a tapestry-sized jigsaw puzzle with half the knobs snipped off of all the little pieces. So, yeah, it took a while.
“Howl” (1956) is The Big One, of course. And it’s damn good for sure, but the far more resonant and enduring masterpiece for me is “Kaddish” (1959), his agonizing, epic elegy to his mother’s decades-long descent into madness. So amazing I want to show it to everybody I know, and so horrifying I never want to see it again. But you can’t un-see it. It’s there now, a part of me.
Later, as you get into the late sixties, there's a lot of poems where he’s traveling somewhere, by car, or train, or plane. He's looking out the window, half-heartedly word-sketching the random nothingness flying by, and clearly so dismayed by the Vietnam war that every passing grain silo or factory yard reminds him that all American productivity is tangentially complicit. In short, he feels hopeless. Which is pretty much how I feel about the current state of America. Unlike me though, Ginsberg wasn’t just sitting on his ass. The man was out there, at every demonstration, be-in, love-in, sit-in, laugh-in, and throw-down. And using his artistic gifts and relative celebrity to keep up a strident counter-voice to the madness of his times. Did all that resistance actually cheer him up though? Give him hope? I don’t know, because he sure as hell never expresses it in the poems.
There’s also a lot here about sucking cock. Sure, I knew the dude was gay, not that there’s anything wrong with that, but it just doesn’t stir my loins. That’s why the next 800-page book I intend to tackle is The Norton Anthology of Letters to Penthouse.
Overall, the passage that most spoke to me was almost laughingly simple, but I think it's going to be my new mantra, a little wisdom to carry me through America's sad, hollowing-out era:
“Well, while I’m here I’ll
do the work—
and what’s the Work?
To ease the pain of living.”
December 14, 2022
“Everything is holy! everybody’s holy! everywhere is
holy! everyday is in eternity! Every man’s an angel!
The bum’s as holy as the seraphim! the madman is holy
as you my soul are holy!”
~Footnote to Howl
This is overdue. After finishing my review of Ginsberg’s Death and Fame: Last Poems, 1993 to 1997, I realized I had never reviewed this, my first plunge into Ginsberg’s work. I acquired it while on an epic hitchhiking journey in America’s heartland back in 1990, the same trip where I first read On The Road. That journey is indelibly linked with my Beat obsession.
Though I’ve read this book many times over the last three decades, I can’t swear that I have read each and every poem in it. That’s the problem with massive volumes of poetry. It’s too large to tackle all at once. It’s also too large to read through it slowly, taking months or years to mine all its gold — that’s beyond the limits of my patience. Instead, I immediately read Ginsberg’s most iconic poems — Howl, Kaddish — then proceeded to jump around through the tome, alighting on poems that seized my attention. Over the years, I often return to those favorites, and continue with the method of randomly opening the book and reading the poem that is revealed, (not unlike how most people read the Bible).
Ginsberg became an icon, the performance of his own life his greatest poem. This makes him immediately recognizable, but can detract from fully appreciating his poetry. Anyone coming to his poetry now reads it through the iconography of his loudly performed public life. Combine this with the fact that his impact on modern poetry is so outsized that his style is aped by every sophomoric poet on every college campus and at every poetry slam, and it is easy to forget the depth and breadth of his poetic genius. (I’m reminded of the student who claimed to not like Shakespeare because his work was full of clichés.)
We are both too close and too far from Ginsberg to fully appreciate his genius. Too close, because we are still near contemporaries, many of us still living having shared decades with him, and a prophet is not honored in his own country (or time). Too far, because most of us cannot imagine that 1950s world where his poems were new, and raw, and electric, and exploded the minds of those first hearers. But make no mistake, Allen Ginsberg is a major poet, one of the handful of great poets that America has produced. His poems will still be read when those of us reading this review are dust. If you love poetry, he belongs in your collection.
holy! everyday is in eternity! Every man’s an angel!
The bum’s as holy as the seraphim! the madman is holy
as you my soul are holy!”
~Footnote to Howl
This is overdue. After finishing my review of Ginsberg’s Death and Fame: Last Poems, 1993 to 1997, I realized I had never reviewed this, my first plunge into Ginsberg’s work. I acquired it while on an epic hitchhiking journey in America’s heartland back in 1990, the same trip where I first read On The Road. That journey is indelibly linked with my Beat obsession.
Though I’ve read this book many times over the last three decades, I can’t swear that I have read each and every poem in it. That’s the problem with massive volumes of poetry. It’s too large to tackle all at once. It’s also too large to read through it slowly, taking months or years to mine all its gold — that’s beyond the limits of my patience. Instead, I immediately read Ginsberg’s most iconic poems — Howl, Kaddish — then proceeded to jump around through the tome, alighting on poems that seized my attention. Over the years, I often return to those favorites, and continue with the method of randomly opening the book and reading the poem that is revealed, (not unlike how most people read the Bible).
Ginsberg became an icon, the performance of his own life his greatest poem. This makes him immediately recognizable, but can detract from fully appreciating his poetry. Anyone coming to his poetry now reads it through the iconography of his loudly performed public life. Combine this with the fact that his impact on modern poetry is so outsized that his style is aped by every sophomoric poet on every college campus and at every poetry slam, and it is easy to forget the depth and breadth of his poetic genius. (I’m reminded of the student who claimed to not like Shakespeare because his work was full of clichés.)
We are both too close and too far from Ginsberg to fully appreciate his genius. Too close, because we are still near contemporaries, many of us still living having shared decades with him, and a prophet is not honored in his own country (or time). Too far, because most of us cannot imagine that 1950s world where his poems were new, and raw, and electric, and exploded the minds of those first hearers. But make no mistake, Allen Ginsberg is a major poet, one of the handful of great poets that America has produced. His poems will still be read when those of us reading this review are dust. If you love poetry, he belongs in your collection.
August 17, 2017
This is the dawn of a new age......in my reading life.
I finally finished this f%&$in' book!
I remember the moment I purchased this book - it was New Year's Eve 2007 (about to be 2008 and the GFC changed the vibe everywhere that next year I remember) in downtown Brisbane at Borders Bookstore which is long gone due to most people buying online these days.
It was a really great time in my life after being burnt out and lost for the first six months of 2007, I ended up finding a new career, a new place to live (in the countryside of Japan) and a new lease on life having recently discovered Kerouac's exciting and exuberant prose only 2 years earlier.
Sometimes you walk into a bookshop and a book just YEARNS for you to pick it up, like it is almost glowing. That's the best way I can describe it. I had just heard about Ginsberg and read about him in Kerouac's books, often as 'Irwin Garden', and was fascinated by this modern-day bard, who was also a close friend of Bob Dylan's.
Well, I must admit - my initial thoughts were upon reading that...."this is not poetry." But I had been brought up with very conventional notions of what poetry is and what a poem can be. When I heard Ginsberg read his own poems or when I read them out aloud, there was a certain roll and rhythm to them, of course atypical of traditional poetry, but with an unmistakably catchy beat.
To be perfectly honest, I like Ginsberg more as an important figure in late 20th Century American popular culture history and as one of the key members if not THE MOST IMPORTANT member of the counterculture of the 50s and 60s. Ginsberg was the PR man of the Beat Movement and if it wasn't for him, Kerouac's MS and Burroughs' MS may have never seen the light of day and the world would have been robbed of two incredibly important writers. He would put up with Kerouac's bitchin' and moaning' and heckling him about his Jewish faith and heritage until one day Ginsberg finally realised that Kerouac was just playing with him, testing out his sense of humour, so he returned with a "oh go fuck your mother" which shut Kerouac up pretty damn smart, as he loved his mother more than anybody in the world.
Posthumously, he comes across as an almost mythical figure - someone who sowed the seeds and sparked the fireworks of a movement which first rocked America and then later the world.
Fast forward to the 70s and here he is co-founding the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics at Naropa University and lecturing to keen young hungry minds about the beat writers, Buddhism, meditations and other related topics. If you haven't listened to Ginsberg's lectures at Naropa, you are really missing out. He is just an amazing speaker - almost hypnotising. He is extremely articulate, precise, eloquent and insightful. He comes across as extremely well-read and learned, too, and.....for the most part, sympathetic (an important part of the Beat ethos) but more on that later.
Then when I think about his sexually graphic language in his poems and how he would sometimes strip naked before an audience, I thought what an incredibly brave man - to be open about your homosexuality, especially at THAT time in American history was incredibly brave, bordering on foolish, if not downright stupid. That's something I admire about him enormously. More people should embrace that spirit through life in my opinion and that's one of Ginsberg's most admirable qualities along with his untiring efforts to help his friends with money, heart-to-heart talks or helping them get published.
Okay, now that I have gotten the praise out of the way (I'm trying to be completely honest about my feeling towards Ginsberg, even though I might receive hate/death mail from his most devoted fans), I would now like to move on to what I don't especially like about him.
First of all, I have heard about how he treated Ira Cohen - another incredibly talented American poet. Never heard of him? No. Don't be surprised. Most people haven't. But Ira Cohen was an unbelievably talented poet - one of the best of his time in my opinion and Ginsberg refused to help him, when he needed it and did not allow Gregory Corso to even meet with him (something I heard from a reliable source). Apparently he once said to Ira something to the effect of "not enough room in NYC for two bearded Jewish poets". Gregory Corso, another brilliant and close friend of Ginsberg's once said that Allen was nice but he was a "tyrant". Finally, the thing that makes me the maddest is how he betrayed Jan Kerouac, Jack Kerouac's only daughter, in her legal fight to save her father's work from all the greedy bidding and selling of his manuscripts and other ephemera and regalia by the Sampas family (who it turned out forged a fake will and claimed it was written in Gabrielle's, Kerouac's mother's, hand) and instead have it placed into a major library, where it could be studied and read by fans and scholars alike. It's sad that Jan died before litigation could take place. Ginsberg had initially been kind to her and supportive of her but as soon as she brought up the lawsuit, Ginsberg quickly turned against her and sided with the already well-established Sampas estate, where, to put it bluntly, he could see all the royalty dollars collecting and starting to pile sky-high.
Now to Ginsberg as a poet......
I would classify the poems in this book (a very large, heavy and important volume of work) very loosely and broadly into three categories - 1) brilliant, iconoclastic poems; 2) interesting poems which give you an insight into his mind at the time and what he was preoccupied with but are not extremely well crafted; and 3) pretty shit/instantly forgettable poems. I would say that about 50% of the poems fall into category 2 (not bad but not great poems), 25% fall into category 1 (these are the ones I will keep with me and re-read; and 3) 25% fall into category 3 (these I will just forget ever existed until proven wrong that they have something worthwhile to share with other people other than Ginsberg himself). Is this assessment too harsh? I can't tell. I think the reason he sometimes writes some pretty ordinary poems comes down to two factors - 1) deadlines/pressure from publishers and 2) big ego, which usually comes to anyone who becomes famous, or in his case incredibly famous.
So, in closing, I would like to share with you the poems I really loved from this volume - the poems which belong to Category 1 - which I will write down and keep somewhere important for they deserved to be read and re-read. I will list them in the order as they appear in the book.
The Green Automobile (p. 83)
Sakyamuni Coming Out from the Mountain (p.90) - one of his earliest Buddhist poems
Howl (p.126) - nothing more need be said on this classic
Footnote to Howl (p. 134)
A Supermarket in California (p. 136)
Sunflower Sutra (p. 138)
Death to Van Gogh's Ear (p. 167)
Europe! Europe! (p. 171)
At Apollinaire's Grave (p.180)
Kaddish (p. 209) - absolutely brilliant. A masterpiece. IMO the second-best thing he ever wrote.
Lysergic Acid (p. 231) - Ginsberg's take on LSD
Aether (p. 242)
Magic Psalm (p. 255)
The Reply (p. 257)
The End (p. 259)
Television Was Baby Crawling Toward That Deathchamber (p. 272) - Another brilliant poem but rather complex and Orwellian.
Angkor Wat (p. 306) - Beautiful.
Waking in New York (p. 339) - Features amazing metropolitan imagery.
Kral Majales (p. 353) - about his experience being crowned the "King of May" in Prague before being kicked out of the country and having his notebooks stolen.
Hiway Poesy: L.A. - Albuquerque - Texas - Wichita (p. 382) - references to other beat writers from Kansas such as McClure and Plymell.
Wichita Vortex Sutra (p. 394) - a seminal poem.
Iron Horse (p. 432)
Wales Visitation (p. 480) - breathtakingly beautiful. The best poem Ginsberg ever wrote in my opinion.
Bixby Canyon (p. 497)
To Poe: Over the Planet, Air Albany-Baltimore (p. 514)
Reflections in Sleepy Eye (p. 524)
Memory Gardens (p. 531) - his reflections on Kerouac's sudden and early death.
Friday the Thirteenth (p. 538)
Ecologue (p. 542)
Guru Om (p. 553)
Bixby Canyon Ocean Path Word Breeze (p. 559)
Contest of Bards (p. 665) - another amazing poem in which Ginsberg attempts to write in the style of William Blake. As Ginbserg himself puts it "a Blakean Punk Epic with nirvanic Rune music"
"Don't Grow Old" (p. 710)
Love Forgiven (p. 729)
Verses Written for Student Antidraft Registration Rally (p. 730)
Ode to Failure (p. 737)
Birdbrain! (p. 738)
Finally, the notes section at the back of the book was of immense help in decoding the sometimes obscure or esoteric allusions in Ginsberg's work.
I have to ask myself this? Was it worth spending 9 years of my life slowing reading this book? The answer is probably 'yes' because even though there were a lot of poems which didn't tickle my fancy particularly, the above poems show that Ginsberg, when his muse was around, (and I don't just mean Peter Orlovsky) could really pull out some magic from his bardic beard.
Highly recommended to all fans of modern poetry and if you are a Ginsberg fan, then it goes without saying that you must read this!
This book, once I have finished taking down all the notes, will find a happy home chez M. Whitewolf - one of the most important and relevant writers today. Perhaps some of these pages will inspire him to continue writing great poems. It deserves to be in his hands rather than to lie forgotten and dust-embedded up upon my bookshelves.
I finally finished this f%&$in' book!
I remember the moment I purchased this book - it was New Year's Eve 2007 (about to be 2008 and the GFC changed the vibe everywhere that next year I remember) in downtown Brisbane at Borders Bookstore which is long gone due to most people buying online these days.
It was a really great time in my life after being burnt out and lost for the first six months of 2007, I ended up finding a new career, a new place to live (in the countryside of Japan) and a new lease on life having recently discovered Kerouac's exciting and exuberant prose only 2 years earlier.
Sometimes you walk into a bookshop and a book just YEARNS for you to pick it up, like it is almost glowing. That's the best way I can describe it. I had just heard about Ginsberg and read about him in Kerouac's books, often as 'Irwin Garden', and was fascinated by this modern-day bard, who was also a close friend of Bob Dylan's.
Well, I must admit - my initial thoughts were upon reading that...."this is not poetry." But I had been brought up with very conventional notions of what poetry is and what a poem can be. When I heard Ginsberg read his own poems or when I read them out aloud, there was a certain roll and rhythm to them, of course atypical of traditional poetry, but with an unmistakably catchy beat.
To be perfectly honest, I like Ginsberg more as an important figure in late 20th Century American popular culture history and as one of the key members if not THE MOST IMPORTANT member of the counterculture of the 50s and 60s. Ginsberg was the PR man of the Beat Movement and if it wasn't for him, Kerouac's MS and Burroughs' MS may have never seen the light of day and the world would have been robbed of two incredibly important writers. He would put up with Kerouac's bitchin' and moaning' and heckling him about his Jewish faith and heritage until one day Ginsberg finally realised that Kerouac was just playing with him, testing out his sense of humour, so he returned with a "oh go fuck your mother" which shut Kerouac up pretty damn smart, as he loved his mother more than anybody in the world.
Posthumously, he comes across as an almost mythical figure - someone who sowed the seeds and sparked the fireworks of a movement which first rocked America and then later the world.
Fast forward to the 70s and here he is co-founding the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics at Naropa University and lecturing to keen young hungry minds about the beat writers, Buddhism, meditations and other related topics. If you haven't listened to Ginsberg's lectures at Naropa, you are really missing out. He is just an amazing speaker - almost hypnotising. He is extremely articulate, precise, eloquent and insightful. He comes across as extremely well-read and learned, too, and.....for the most part, sympathetic (an important part of the Beat ethos) but more on that later.
Then when I think about his sexually graphic language in his poems and how he would sometimes strip naked before an audience, I thought what an incredibly brave man - to be open about your homosexuality, especially at THAT time in American history was incredibly brave, bordering on foolish, if not downright stupid. That's something I admire about him enormously. More people should embrace that spirit through life in my opinion and that's one of Ginsberg's most admirable qualities along with his untiring efforts to help his friends with money, heart-to-heart talks or helping them get published.
Okay, now that I have gotten the praise out of the way (I'm trying to be completely honest about my feeling towards Ginsberg, even though I might receive hate/death mail from his most devoted fans), I would now like to move on to what I don't especially like about him.
First of all, I have heard about how he treated Ira Cohen - another incredibly talented American poet. Never heard of him? No. Don't be surprised. Most people haven't. But Ira Cohen was an unbelievably talented poet - one of the best of his time in my opinion and Ginsberg refused to help him, when he needed it and did not allow Gregory Corso to even meet with him (something I heard from a reliable source). Apparently he once said to Ira something to the effect of "not enough room in NYC for two bearded Jewish poets". Gregory Corso, another brilliant and close friend of Ginsberg's once said that Allen was nice but he was a "tyrant". Finally, the thing that makes me the maddest is how he betrayed Jan Kerouac, Jack Kerouac's only daughter, in her legal fight to save her father's work from all the greedy bidding and selling of his manuscripts and other ephemera and regalia by the Sampas family (who it turned out forged a fake will and claimed it was written in Gabrielle's, Kerouac's mother's, hand) and instead have it placed into a major library, where it could be studied and read by fans and scholars alike. It's sad that Jan died before litigation could take place. Ginsberg had initially been kind to her and supportive of her but as soon as she brought up the lawsuit, Ginsberg quickly turned against her and sided with the already well-established Sampas estate, where, to put it bluntly, he could see all the royalty dollars collecting and starting to pile sky-high.
Now to Ginsberg as a poet......
I would classify the poems in this book (a very large, heavy and important volume of work) very loosely and broadly into three categories - 1) brilliant, iconoclastic poems; 2) interesting poems which give you an insight into his mind at the time and what he was preoccupied with but are not extremely well crafted; and 3) pretty shit/instantly forgettable poems. I would say that about 50% of the poems fall into category 2 (not bad but not great poems), 25% fall into category 1 (these are the ones I will keep with me and re-read; and 3) 25% fall into category 3 (these I will just forget ever existed until proven wrong that they have something worthwhile to share with other people other than Ginsberg himself). Is this assessment too harsh? I can't tell. I think the reason he sometimes writes some pretty ordinary poems comes down to two factors - 1) deadlines/pressure from publishers and 2) big ego, which usually comes to anyone who becomes famous, or in his case incredibly famous.
So, in closing, I would like to share with you the poems I really loved from this volume - the poems which belong to Category 1 - which I will write down and keep somewhere important for they deserved to be read and re-read. I will list them in the order as they appear in the book.
The Green Automobile (p. 83)
Sakyamuni Coming Out from the Mountain (p.90) - one of his earliest Buddhist poems
Howl (p.126) - nothing more need be said on this classic
Footnote to Howl (p. 134)
A Supermarket in California (p. 136)
Sunflower Sutra (p. 138)
Death to Van Gogh's Ear (p. 167)
Europe! Europe! (p. 171)
At Apollinaire's Grave (p.180)
Kaddish (p. 209) - absolutely brilliant. A masterpiece. IMO the second-best thing he ever wrote.
Lysergic Acid (p. 231) - Ginsberg's take on LSD
Aether (p. 242)
Magic Psalm (p. 255)
The Reply (p. 257)
The End (p. 259)
Television Was Baby Crawling Toward That Deathchamber (p. 272) - Another brilliant poem but rather complex and Orwellian.
Angkor Wat (p. 306) - Beautiful.
Waking in New York (p. 339) - Features amazing metropolitan imagery.
Kral Majales (p. 353) - about his experience being crowned the "King of May" in Prague before being kicked out of the country and having his notebooks stolen.
Hiway Poesy: L.A. - Albuquerque - Texas - Wichita (p. 382) - references to other beat writers from Kansas such as McClure and Plymell.
Wichita Vortex Sutra (p. 394) - a seminal poem.
Iron Horse (p. 432)
Wales Visitation (p. 480) - breathtakingly beautiful. The best poem Ginsberg ever wrote in my opinion.
Bixby Canyon (p. 497)
To Poe: Over the Planet, Air Albany-Baltimore (p. 514)
Reflections in Sleepy Eye (p. 524)
Memory Gardens (p. 531) - his reflections on Kerouac's sudden and early death.
Friday the Thirteenth (p. 538)
Ecologue (p. 542)
Guru Om (p. 553)
Bixby Canyon Ocean Path Word Breeze (p. 559)
Contest of Bards (p. 665) - another amazing poem in which Ginsberg attempts to write in the style of William Blake. As Ginbserg himself puts it "a Blakean Punk Epic with nirvanic Rune music"
"Don't Grow Old" (p. 710)
Love Forgiven (p. 729)
Verses Written for Student Antidraft Registration Rally (p. 730)
Ode to Failure (p. 737)
Birdbrain! (p. 738)
Finally, the notes section at the back of the book was of immense help in decoding the sometimes obscure or esoteric allusions in Ginsberg's work.
I have to ask myself this? Was it worth spending 9 years of my life slowing reading this book? The answer is probably 'yes' because even though there were a lot of poems which didn't tickle my fancy particularly, the above poems show that Ginsberg, when his muse was around, (and I don't just mean Peter Orlovsky) could really pull out some magic from his bardic beard.
Highly recommended to all fans of modern poetry and if you are a Ginsberg fan, then it goes without saying that you must read this!
This book, once I have finished taking down all the notes, will find a happy home chez M. Whitewolf - one of the most important and relevant writers today. Perhaps some of these pages will inspire him to continue writing great poems. It deserves to be in his hands rather than to lie forgotten and dust-embedded up upon my bookshelves.
March 20, 2014
I am still re-reading and savoring the book that when found in my locker in military boot camp (1965), got me called before the base commander and almost tossed out of the service. The questions: My past use of drugs and leanings toward communism. They kept the book :-( and simply gave me a stiff warning about what was American and what was not ... :-) I still love Ginsberg - I don't know what that says about my patriotism. :-)
April 29, 2022
This is my reading of, and reflections on, Allen Ginsberg’s classic poem ‘A Supermarket in California’:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ob90Y...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ob90Y...
June 5, 2010
Forget me not!
One of the first pictures I saw of Allen Ginsberg was in this red Collected Poems; it’s 1978, and he’s meditating with his companion Peter Orlovsky on the tracks in front of an oncoming train at Rocky Flats, which made the plutonium triggers for nuclear weapons, right outside Boulder, Colorado, where I grew up and currently reside. The first poetry reading I went to was at my former high school where Allen performed; I couldn’t believe it when he opened with “Sunflower Sutra,” the poem that was making poetry feel possible: “—I rushed up enchanted—it was my first sunflower, memories of Blake—my visions...” and “Poor dead flower? when did you forget you were a flower? when did you look at your skin and decide you were an impotent dirty old locomotive? the ghost of a locomotive? the specter and shade of a once powerful mad American locomotive?” That year I won the grand prize at my university for a poem I wrote in Allen’s honor, a reinterpretation of “Ode to Failure.” On the day of Allen’s death in 1997, I drew a single card from my William Blake tarot deck: The Man of Poetry. Exactly ten years after that in 2007, shortly after being hired by the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics at Naropa University, at an impromptu reading for the tenth anniversary of Allen’s passing, I was invited with others to stand on the ledge of the Allen Ginsberg Library to read any poem of my choosing from this red Collected, which was being passed around from poet to poet. “I walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock and sat down under the huge shade of a Southern Pacific locomotive to look at the sunset over the box house hills and cry.” At that moment it started to lightly rain, and as I got to the golden sunflowers—"...we’re all golden sunflowers inside...”—the sun came back out. A friend of Allen's, the one who had brought his copy of the red Collected to the reading, quietly remarked it was as though I was Allen’s granddaughter...a tender way of saying, we love him, too. That evening in my red Collected I revisited the picture of Allen Ginsberg in front of the plutonium trigger train, an act of protest 23 years after his sunflower (“To be in any form, what is that?” –Walt Whitman), writing that train from existence by daring it to remember him: “And you Locomotive, you are a locomotive, forget me not!”
One of the first pictures I saw of Allen Ginsberg was in this red Collected Poems; it’s 1978, and he’s meditating with his companion Peter Orlovsky on the tracks in front of an oncoming train at Rocky Flats, which made the plutonium triggers for nuclear weapons, right outside Boulder, Colorado, where I grew up and currently reside. The first poetry reading I went to was at my former high school where Allen performed; I couldn’t believe it when he opened with “Sunflower Sutra,” the poem that was making poetry feel possible: “—I rushed up enchanted—it was my first sunflower, memories of Blake—my visions...” and “Poor dead flower? when did you forget you were a flower? when did you look at your skin and decide you were an impotent dirty old locomotive? the ghost of a locomotive? the specter and shade of a once powerful mad American locomotive?” That year I won the grand prize at my university for a poem I wrote in Allen’s honor, a reinterpretation of “Ode to Failure.” On the day of Allen’s death in 1997, I drew a single card from my William Blake tarot deck: The Man of Poetry. Exactly ten years after that in 2007, shortly after being hired by the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics at Naropa University, at an impromptu reading for the tenth anniversary of Allen’s passing, I was invited with others to stand on the ledge of the Allen Ginsberg Library to read any poem of my choosing from this red Collected, which was being passed around from poet to poet. “I walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock and sat down under the huge shade of a Southern Pacific locomotive to look at the sunset over the box house hills and cry.” At that moment it started to lightly rain, and as I got to the golden sunflowers—"...we’re all golden sunflowers inside...”—the sun came back out. A friend of Allen's, the one who had brought his copy of the red Collected to the reading, quietly remarked it was as though I was Allen’s granddaughter...a tender way of saying, we love him, too. That evening in my red Collected I revisited the picture of Allen Ginsberg in front of the plutonium trigger train, an act of protest 23 years after his sunflower (“To be in any form, what is that?” –Walt Whitman), writing that train from existence by daring it to remember him: “And you Locomotive, you are a locomotive, forget me not!”
November 24, 2007
My copy still retains two book marks, commemorating the era in which I read this...
1. A postcard from Skagit Valley Bulb Farm, with the message, "How about a balloon ride? I think it would be fun!"
2. A note that was left on my car that reads, "Hey baby, I think you're really cute. E-mail me at natasha@____.com and we can get to know each other."
The postcard was written to me by a girl who thought that Bush's "Glycerine" was beautiful poetry; and the note was a joke from my friend, Rich, who had an e-mail account named after his cat, Natasha.
*
David Cross is a dead-ringer for Allen: http://youtube.com/watch?v=VyWgzUGOliw
1. A postcard from Skagit Valley Bulb Farm, with the message, "How about a balloon ride? I think it would be fun!"
2. A note that was left on my car that reads, "Hey baby, I think you're really cute. E-mail me at natasha@____.com and we can get to know each other."
The postcard was written to me by a girl who thought that Bush's "Glycerine" was beautiful poetry; and the note was a joke from my friend, Rich, who had an e-mail account named after his cat, Natasha.
*
David Cross is a dead-ringer for Allen: http://youtube.com/watch?v=VyWgzUGOliw
December 21, 2013
Warning. This book is full of poems by Allen Ginsberg.
September 17, 2020
I'll start off by saying that I hate abut 99.9 percent of all poetry. But not Ginsberg. I actually got to hear him read Howl, Kaddish and Wichita Vortex Sutra (the world premier) in the 60's in Moody's Skid Row Beanery in Wichita, Kansas. He was as great a reader as he was a poet. I can't recommend this collection, and any other by him, enough.
October 11, 2021
Makes you think about heartbroken fishman lighting a cigarette, about a multiple milion eyed monsters, about a lot of ass and cunt under the world. Makes you feel like you are Van Gogh's dead ear, what a relief.
January 14, 2013
Wonderful. One of the best poets in the modern age. This is the best collection of his work I have yet to see. If anyone is beginning to get into Ginsberg, this is the book for you!
August 1, 2018
Howl remains my favorite.
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked...
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked...
March 18, 2023
How does a young woman, with comparatively little life experience, quantify another man's career that has lasted longer than she's been alive?
Spending an entire year studying another person's poetry makes the student and the subject intimately acquainted. You get the good, the bad, and the ugly.
At times I found Ginsberg intellectually inspiring, profoundly beautiful in simplicity, and aggressive in his advocacy. At other times, I found him repetitively masturbatory, braggadociously academic, and honestly, kind of grody.
Having been through this collection, I am a different person. A better poet, a more informed student of history and spirituality, and a more perseverant reader. Ginsberg is so many things: intelligent, psychonautical, rebellious, outspoken, well read, spiritually studied, politically informed, sexually obsessed, and unendingly introspective. I am thankful for the mark he left on this world and for the perspective to which I have been granted access through it.
Spending an entire year studying another person's poetry makes the student and the subject intimately acquainted. You get the good, the bad, and the ugly.
At times I found Ginsberg intellectually inspiring, profoundly beautiful in simplicity, and aggressive in his advocacy. At other times, I found him repetitively masturbatory, braggadociously academic, and honestly, kind of grody.
Having been through this collection, I am a different person. A better poet, a more informed student of history and spirituality, and a more perseverant reader. Ginsberg is so many things: intelligent, psychonautical, rebellious, outspoken, well read, spiritually studied, politically informed, sexually obsessed, and unendingly introspective. I am thankful for the mark he left on this world and for the perspective to which I have been granted access through it.
June 3, 2014
I'm biased, so take this as you will, but Ginsberg, like his idol Whitman before him, has written some of the absolutely most ambitious poetry of the 20th century. He has the ability to capture the vibe and current surging through the immediate present while simultaneously communicating elemental truths and emotions that will remain accessible and engaging to readers of any time. He is a self-absorbed actor and an objective observer; he can flip between satirical, all-knowing insider and self-deprecating humorist to bewildered and heartbroken innocent. There's "Howl" and there's "Kaddish." There's "America" and there's "To Aunt Rose." And that, I think, is the essence of his brilliance: the ability to authentically communicate the entire breadth of human emotions, in part because he's considered an outsider for multiple reasons during this period, and in part because of his incredible courage to be completely honest and completely himself. "I'm not sorry", indeed.
June 2, 2021
His poems have often been considered a touch anachronistic compared to the work of some of his peers. Of the Beat Generation’s major figures, though, one could argue that they—and he—are actually the most sturdy when held up to modern scrutiny: sure, he had one eye to the romantic pastoralism of Whitman, but where Kerouac has become a signpost for fuckboi toxicity and Burroughs’ excesses appear increasingly gnarly in the rearview, Ginsberg just seems sweeter as time has worn off the shock of his preoccupations. Put more succinctly: Ginsberg is a queer beacon of light, however imperfect, and the layers of taboo being slowly peeled away have only made that light shine brighter.
April 10, 2010
What is there to really say! The book is almost a complete collection of Ginsberg. You can trace his genius from a young age to an old age: it shows the development of his mind. Overall Ginsberg is possibly the greatest spiritual yet radical poet I know of. If you haven’t read Ginsberg you should hang your head in shame. Seriously, though if you haven’t read him, you should. You could possibly like myself learn about yourself and Ginsberg simultaneously.
May 15, 2015
یک روزی آدم های مهمی می شوند. نسلِ بیت را می گویم. یک روزی می رسد که از بستر الکل و دودی که از آن بیدار شدند، آثار فراموش نشدنی ای به جا خواهد ماند. فعلاً که براتیگان عزیز دل دارد فرضیه ام را اثبات می کند.
منتظر باشید. این ها روزی کلاسیک های آینده می شوند...
منتظر باشید. این ها روزی کلاسیک های آینده می شوند...
September 5, 2019
I read a volume of Gingsberg's poetry in 1991. I don't know for sure it was this one, but the publish date seems right and I remember it having a red cover, so it was probably this one. "Howl" is of course his best known poem, but "Kaddish" stood out to me, as did "Please Master."
November 3, 2017
SIX WORD REVIEW: Vietnam and Buddha, Beat and radical.
October 2, 2020
I read about 300 pages of this and stopped.
As part of my Read My Own Shelves project, I have been going through and rereading books I've kept from college and then getting rid of most of them. I knew Ginsberg would not be my favorite because I didn't really like him when I read parts of this collection for an undergraduate course on Beat Poetry. But I didn't expect to truly and deeply despise this book so much.
Ginsberg pretty well captures my feelings about his poetry in this untitled poem from 1949.
"I attempted to concentrate
the total sun's rays in
each poem as through a glass,
but such magnification
did not set the page afire."
Weirdly, I like his early poetry before he becomes Beat much more. The earliest stuff rhymes sometimes which he abandons almost entirely later. The early poetry also has some closely observed scenes/descriptions that are quite nice.
I liked "Crash" which seems like an anthem for MCU's Fury. I also liked "At Apollinaire's Grave": "I hope some wild kidmonk lays his pamphlet on my grave for God to read me on cold winter nights in heaven." This poem is written by Ginsberg after visiting the poet's grave for inspiration and answers; he conflates himself with Apollinaire in the poem, and it's really very good. Also like these lines from "Laughing Gas": "Where've I heard that / asshole jazz before?" and "that first frog thought leaping out of the void."
But on the whole, I do not like his poetry and am done with trying to make myself read it.
As part of my Read My Own Shelves project, I have been going through and rereading books I've kept from college and then getting rid of most of them. I knew Ginsberg would not be my favorite because I didn't really like him when I read parts of this collection for an undergraduate course on Beat Poetry. But I didn't expect to truly and deeply despise this book so much.
Ginsberg pretty well captures my feelings about his poetry in this untitled poem from 1949.
"I attempted to concentrate
the total sun's rays in
each poem as through a glass,
but such magnification
did not set the page afire."
Weirdly, I like his early poetry before he becomes Beat much more. The earliest stuff rhymes sometimes which he abandons almost entirely later. The early poetry also has some closely observed scenes/descriptions that are quite nice.
I liked "Crash" which seems like an anthem for MCU's Fury. I also liked "At Apollinaire's Grave": "I hope some wild kidmonk lays his pamphlet on my grave for God to read me on cold winter nights in heaven." This poem is written by Ginsberg after visiting the poet's grave for inspiration and answers; he conflates himself with Apollinaire in the poem, and it's really very good. Also like these lines from "Laughing Gas": "Where've I heard that / asshole jazz before?" and "that first frog thought leaping out of the void."
But on the whole, I do not like his poetry and am done with trying to make myself read it.
July 9, 2025
COLLECTED POEMS 1947-1980 - Allen Ginsberg: 3
I started reading this book because I wanted to know more about “Howl” and the person who had made it. My theory on the trajectory of Allen Ginsberg’s career in poetry follows, roughly by decade:
50s: Head of the Beat generation, grimy and visceral and real.
60s: Abstract free verse, free form, freely associated.
70s: Repetitive, spiritual, political.
Throughout these phases he is thoroughly perverse and humorous, miniscule and broad. Long lines abound, inspired by Ginsberg's admitted model Walt Whitman. Many of Ginsberg’s poems concern his family, especially his mother; or his life and the political climate through an abstract lens. The 60s begin a noticeable dip into mush territory in which all the poems sound and look the same since Ginsberg composed them through random associations of inspired words in free verse with line breaks in hundreds upon hundreds of unique patterns. It's an interesting and ultimate push toward one frontier of literature.
I started reading this book because I wanted to know more about “Howl” and the person who had made it. My theory on the trajectory of Allen Ginsberg’s career in poetry follows, roughly by decade:
50s: Head of the Beat generation, grimy and visceral and real.
60s: Abstract free verse, free form, freely associated.
70s: Repetitive, spiritual, political.
Throughout these phases he is thoroughly perverse and humorous, miniscule and broad. Long lines abound, inspired by Ginsberg's admitted model Walt Whitman. Many of Ginsberg’s poems concern his family, especially his mother; or his life and the political climate through an abstract lens. The 60s begin a noticeable dip into mush territory in which all the poems sound and look the same since Ginsberg composed them through random associations of inspired words in free verse with line breaks in hundreds upon hundreds of unique patterns. It's an interesting and ultimate push toward one frontier of literature.
March 1, 2025
This collection is a HEFTY 5-pounds and an atomic bomb of poetry. I must admit I didn’t read every single thing cover to cover, but I read a LOT, and brother it was deranged. In a good way. I think. Ginsberg really incorporates the motifs of machinery, filth, drugs, and homosexuality in such a compelling and uniquely American way. Idk there is some sauce here (and it is a sauce that is FOUNDATIONAL to contemporary American poetry and fiction) but I can’t actually say if I liked the taste of it or not. It turned my stomach (positive)?
April 28, 2019
آمریکا / آلن گینزبرگ / ترجمه به فارسی: رُزا جمالی
آمریکا، هر آنچه داشتم را به تو بخشیده ام
و دیگر هیچ از من نمانده است
آمریکا یعنی دو دلار و بیست و هفت سنت
هفده ژانویه ی هزار و نهصد و پنجاه و شش است
و من نمی توانم بی قراری ذهن را تاب بیاورم
و تو کی این جنگ های انسانی را به اتمام خواهی رساند، آمریکا؟
بر تو نفرین و بر آن بمب اتمی ات
اصلا خوب نیستم، پس به من گیر نده!
بگذار ذهنم آرام بگیرد وگرنه شعرم را نخواهم نوشت
آمریکا،
کی پریوار خواهی شد؟
و پیراهن ات را در خواهی آورد؟
کی از درون گورت به خود نگاه خواهی کرد؟
کی درخور این روندگان به راه تروتسکی خواهی بود؟
چرا کتابخانه های تو از اشک پُر است؟
و کی تخم تو به هند خواهد رسید؟
من ازین همه خواستن های تو به ستوه آمدم
بالاخره کی می شود که به سوپرمارکت بروم
و با چهره ای خوشحال آنچه را که می خواهم بخرم؟
فقط من و تو چنان پُریم
و تو چنان زیادی وُ آخری
می خواهی که من شبیه یک قدیس باشم
حتما می توانیم راه حلی برای این معضل بیابیم
بیایید سر اصل مطلب برویم
چگونه دست از وسواس بردارم؟
آمریکا به من زور نگو که من می دانم چه می گویم
آمریکا شکوفه ها بر زمین ریخته اند
ماه هاست که من روزنامه ای نخوانده ام
انگار هر روز کسی به جرم قتل محاکمه می شود...
چقدر دلم به حال کارگران ات می سوزد
آمریکا وقتی بچه بودم کمونیست بودم و حالا پشیمان نیستم
تا دلت بخواهد ماریجوانا می کشم
روز از پی روز در خانه ام می نشینم
و به گل های سرخ داخل کمد خیره می مانم
می روم به محله ی چینی ها، مست می کنم و با کسی نمی خوابم
دیده بودی مرا که مارکس می خواندم؟
روان درمانگرم گفته حالم خوب است
و دیگر دعا نمی خوانم
چرا که به لحظه های عرفانی و لرزه های کیهانی دست پیدا کرده ام
آمریکا هنوز با تو سخن نگفته ام
که وقتی عمو مارکس از روسیه آمد چه بلایی بر سرش آوردی؟!
هیییییی... با توام؟
آیا می خواهی زندگی عاطفی ات تحت تاثیر نشریه ی تایمز باشد؟
هر هفته می خوانم اش
هر وقت که زیر زیرکی به آبنبات فروشی کنار خیابان سرک می کشم
تصویر روی جلد به من خیره است
و من در زیرزمین و در کتابخانه های عمومی در برکلی می خوانم اش
از مسئولیتی سخن می گویند این تاجران رسمی
تهیه کنندگان فیلم
همه مطرح اند اما من چه
انگار من خود آمریکا هستم
که دارم با خودم حرف می زنم.
تمام آسیا علیه من شورش کرده است
و من حتا شانس یک چینی را ندارم
بهتر است که منابع ملی را در نظر بگیریم
ثروت ملی ای که در ماری جوآنا خلاصه می شود
ماری جوآنا که نسل به نسل پرورش پیدا می کند
این ادبیات غیر رسمی که به سرعت ۱۴۰۰ مایل در ساعت
پرورش پیدا می کند و همه جا را در بر می گیرد
بیست و پنج هزار آسایشگاه روانی
چیزی درباره ی زندان ها نمی گویم
و آن ها که محروم اند
در قوطی حلبی زیر نورخوشید
پانصد بار
روسپی خانه های فرانسه را از پا در آوردم
و من که کاتولیکم آیا می توانم رئیس جمهور آمریکا شوم؟
آمریکا، با این وضع ات چطور برایت سرود مقدس بنویسم؟
چیزی شبیه اتومبیل هنری فورد، شعر من همان است
جنس اش فرق می کنه اما...
آمریکا حالا می خواهم شعرهایم را به تو بفروشم،
هر شعر می شه ۲۵۰ دلار
پنجاه دلار آتیش زدم به مال ام
شعرهای قدیمی ات
تام مونی رو آزاد کن دیگه
این همه سرسپرده و مزدور را نجات بده
ساکو و ونزتی نمیرندها!
من پیش آهنگم
هفت سالم بود زمانی که به جلسات چپ ها می رفتم
با یک کوپن یک مشت نخود می فروختند
پنج سنت
سخنرانی آزاد
انسان ها پریوار
دل سوزاندند برای کارگران
چه حقیقتی
۱۹۳۵، حزب چپ ها
چه پیرمرد متینی بود اسکات نیرینگ
انسان
دوباره با آهنگ های غمگین به گریه افتادم
اسرائیل امیتر در لباسی معمولی
همه جاسوس اند و ماموریتی دارند
آمریکا، نمی خواهی به جنگ بروی تو؟
آمریکا همه اش تقصیر این روس های پلید است
روس ها، روس ها، روس ها و چشم های چشم بادامی شان
روسیه دارد زنده زنده می بلعد ما را، روسیه با قدرتی دیوانه وار، ماشین ها را از پارکینگ ها دزدیده است
شیکاگو را ربوده است، این نشریه های زرد مردمی، ماشین سازی ها را در سیبری ربوده است
با تمام نظم بی بدیل اش پمپ بنزین ها را به کنترل درآورده
پوچ!
و رنگین پوستان را باسواد کنید، سیاهان غول پیکر را،...
شانزده ساعت در روز کار می کنیم ما.
آمریکا، مسئله جدی ست!
و این برداشت من است در نگاهی به تلویزیون
آمریکا، درسته دیگه؟
بهتره بریم سر اصل مطلب
من نمی خوام به ارتش بپیوندم
و به چرخکاری آدمیزاد مشغول شوم
هم نزدیک بین ام، هم روان پریش
آمریکا من افلیجم و این راه صعب العبور است.
#شعر #شعر_جهان #ترجمه_شعر #آلن_گینزبرگ #رزا_جمالی #نسل_بیت
آمریکا، هر آنچه داشتم را به تو بخشیده ام
و دیگر هیچ از من نمانده است
آمریکا یعنی دو دلار و بیست و هفت سنت
هفده ژانویه ی هزار و نهصد و پنجاه و شش است
و من نمی توانم بی قراری ذهن را تاب بیاورم
و تو کی این جنگ های انسانی را به اتمام خواهی رساند، آمریکا؟
بر تو نفرین و بر آن بمب اتمی ات
اصلا خوب نیستم، پس به من گیر نده!
بگذار ذهنم آرام بگیرد وگرنه شعرم را نخواهم نوشت
آمریکا،
کی پریوار خواهی شد؟
و پیراهن ات را در خواهی آورد؟
کی از درون گورت به خود نگاه خواهی کرد؟
کی درخور این روندگان به راه تروتسکی خواهی بود؟
چرا کتابخانه های تو از اشک پُر است؟
و کی تخم تو به هند خواهد رسید؟
من ازین همه خواستن های تو به ستوه آمدم
بالاخره کی می شود که به سوپرمارکت بروم
و با چهره ای خوشحال آنچه را که می خواهم بخرم؟
فقط من و تو چنان پُریم
و تو چنان زیادی وُ آخری
می خواهی که من شبیه یک قدیس باشم
حتما می توانیم راه حلی برای این معضل بیابیم
بیایید سر اصل مطلب برویم
چگونه دست از وسواس بردارم؟
آمریکا به من زور نگو که من می دانم چه می گویم
آمریکا شکوفه ها بر زمین ریخته اند
ماه هاست که من روزنامه ای نخوانده ام
انگار هر روز کسی به جرم قتل محاکمه می شود...
چقدر دلم به حال کارگران ات می سوزد
آمریکا وقتی بچه بودم کمونیست بودم و حالا پشیمان نیستم
تا دلت بخواهد ماریجوانا می کشم
روز از پی روز در خانه ام می نشینم
و به گل های سرخ داخل کمد خیره می مانم
می روم به محله ی چینی ها، مست می کنم و با کسی نمی خوابم
دیده بودی مرا که مارکس می خواندم؟
روان درمانگرم گفته حالم خوب است
و دیگر دعا نمی خوانم
چرا که به لحظه های عرفانی و لرزه های کیهانی دست پیدا کرده ام
آمریکا هنوز با تو سخن نگفته ام
که وقتی عمو مارکس از روسیه آمد چه بلایی بر سرش آوردی؟!
هیییییی... با توام؟
آیا می خواهی زندگی عاطفی ات تحت تاثیر نشریه ی تایمز باشد؟
هر هفته می خوانم اش
هر وقت که زیر زیرکی به آبنبات فروشی کنار خیابان سرک می کشم
تصویر روی جلد به من خیره است
و من در زیرزمین و در کتابخانه های عمومی در برکلی می خوانم اش
از مسئولیتی سخن می گویند این تاجران رسمی
تهیه کنندگان فیلم
همه مطرح اند اما من چه
انگار من خود آمریکا هستم
که دارم با خودم حرف می زنم.
تمام آسیا علیه من شورش کرده است
و من حتا شانس یک چینی را ندارم
بهتر است که منابع ملی را در نظر بگیریم
ثروت ملی ای که در ماری جوآنا خلاصه می شود
ماری جوآنا که نسل به نسل پرورش پیدا می کند
این ادبیات غیر رسمی که به سرعت ۱۴۰۰ مایل در ساعت
پرورش پیدا می کند و همه جا را در بر می گیرد
بیست و پنج هزار آسایشگاه روانی
چیزی درباره ی زندان ها نمی گویم
و آن ها که محروم اند
در قوطی حلبی زیر نورخوشید
پانصد بار
روسپی خانه های فرانسه را از پا در آوردم
و من که کاتولیکم آیا می توانم رئیس جمهور آمریکا شوم؟
آمریکا، با این وضع ات چطور برایت سرود مقدس بنویسم؟
چیزی شبیه اتومبیل هنری فورد، شعر من همان است
جنس اش فرق می کنه اما...
آمریکا حالا می خواهم شعرهایم را به تو بفروشم،
هر شعر می شه ۲۵۰ دلار
پنجاه دلار آتیش زدم به مال ام
شعرهای قدیمی ات
تام مونی رو آزاد کن دیگه
این همه سرسپرده و مزدور را نجات بده
ساکو و ونزتی نمیرندها!
من پیش آهنگم
هفت سالم بود زمانی که به جلسات چپ ها می رفتم
با یک کوپن یک مشت نخود می فروختند
پنج سنت
سخنرانی آزاد
انسان ها پریوار
دل سوزاندند برای کارگران
چه حقیقتی
۱۹۳۵، حزب چپ ها
چه پیرمرد متینی بود اسکات نیرینگ
انسان
دوباره با آهنگ های غمگین به گریه افتادم
اسرائیل امیتر در لباسی معمولی
همه جاسوس اند و ماموریتی دارند
آمریکا، نمی خواهی به جنگ بروی تو؟
آمریکا همه اش تقصیر این روس های پلید است
روس ها، روس ها، روس ها و چشم های چشم بادامی شان
روسیه دارد زنده زنده می بلعد ما را، روسیه با قدرتی دیوانه وار، ماشین ها را از پارکینگ ها دزدیده است
شیکاگو را ربوده است، این نشریه های زرد مردمی، ماشین سازی ها را در سیبری ربوده است
با تمام نظم بی بدیل اش پمپ بنزین ها را به کنترل درآورده
پوچ!
و رنگین پوستان را باسواد کنید، سیاهان غول پیکر را،...
شانزده ساعت در روز کار می کنیم ما.
آمریکا، مسئله جدی ست!
و این برداشت من است در نگاهی به تلویزیون
آمریکا، درسته دیگه؟
بهتره بریم سر اصل مطلب
من نمی خوام به ارتش بپیوندم
و به چرخکاری آدمیزاد مشغول شوم
هم نزدیک بین ام، هم روان پریش
آمریکا من افلیجم و این راه صعب العبور است.
#شعر #شعر_جهان #ترجمه_شعر #آلن_گینزبرگ #رزا_جمالی #نسل_بیت
December 9, 2007
I was really into the Beat writers at this point. It was my junior year of high school, I wore black clothes, a black beret, heavy black eyeliner, and almost-black lipstick called Vamp. I carried a notebook everywhere. This was the year that Denise, Erica and I started the Poetry Club at San Mateo High; it was the year I dropped math for good and joined the school newspaper instead; the year I learned to drive; the year of my first boyfriend; the year of Radiohead's album "The Bends"; in other words, a big year. My dad gave me this collection for Christmas and it was a major influence on me. To this day, "Howl" is one of the most exhilerating things in the world.
October 15, 2008
My off the top of my dome poem/review to Allen about his book of poems
Allen,
I know that
in between time life and space
you are a genius and all
So I hope you're open to this mortal's note
Poems are not novels
and novels are not Poems.
Poems should be brief like kisses
Making heads wanna feel more
But still, thanks for the wild trip
Its been one Bro.
Allen,
I know that
in between time life and space
you are a genius and all
So I hope you're open to this mortal's note
Poems are not novels
and novels are not Poems.
Poems should be brief like kisses
Making heads wanna feel more
But still, thanks for the wild trip
Its been one Bro.
May 18, 2011
Prefer his very early and "Howl" period poetry to his other stuff. Has a few themes and images that he hammers to death in a way I'd be afraid to do, but he makes it work.
July 22, 2022
I first perused this book in college. What initially attracted me was the cover design with its "trinity of fish" as one might call them. The hardcover version of this book cinsisted if black " boards" with a red dust jacket, as seen with this cover thumbnail. There's never been a free verse/bop prosody politically aware and alarmed American poet quite like Allen Ginsberg either before or since.
A visiting professor of mine, a certain Donnell H. (he's dead along w/ Ginsberg; only one of them out of the two deserves a postal stamp.) actually physically detested my own individual reading or discussing anything Ginberg wrote, either privately or on the street.
A visiting professor of mine, a certain Donnell H. (he's dead along w/ Ginsberg; only one of them out of the two deserves a postal stamp.) actually physically detested my own individual reading or discussing anything Ginberg wrote, either privately or on the street.
Want to read
August 18, 2023“Irwin Allen Ginsberg (03 Jun 1926 - 05 Apr 1997) was an American poet and writer. As a student at Columbia University in the 1940s, he began friendships with William S. Burroughs and Jack Kerouac, forming the core of the Beat Generation. He vigorously opposed militarism, economic materialism, and sexual repression, and he embodied various aspects of this counterculture with his views on drugs, sex, multiculturalism, hostility to bureaucracy, and openness to Eastern religions.”
November 15, 2023
I wanted to love his poetry. There were many poems I did love, but overall not so much. I grew weary of the anger, and probably because we live with so much all around us today. Anger doesn't seem to change any thing. I need less, not more. Ginsberg is undoubtedly a great poet, a voice of his age, but he's not my voice.
June 1, 2023
ginsberg has rewired my brain, teaching me when it means to be a poet all over again. brilliant, & as another review declares, allen is nearly a mythical figure. great book, even more fascinating author.
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