Howl Down (a hacked around Ginsberg)

Howl Down

the minds of my generation,
across the cities,
angels on roofs
among the scholars of war,
obscene odes,
the Terror
fire with dreams with nightmares,
all night in light,
facts and memories and anecdotes
no broken hearts,
the cosmos
angels who were angels,
only mad ecstasy,
the impulse of midnight rain,
Eternity, a hopeless task,
the shadow and ash of poetry
holes in their arms,
while the sirens
with delight
on their knees
with joy,
human seraphim, sailors,
in rose gardens
with a sob
ecstatic and insatiate on the wall
stolen night-cars
dreams and unemployment offices,
full of blood
great suicidal dramas
the lamb stew of the imagination or digested crab
the romance of the streets onions and bad music,
harpsichords in their lofts,
crates of theology,
lofty stanzas of gibberish,
rotten animals lung of the vegetable kingdom,
under meat trucks,
off the roof, for the next decade,
the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality,
Brooklyn Bridge
broken wineglasses barefoot
highways of the past
if I or you or he
on their knees for salvation until
criminals with reality in their hearts
hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy
in humorless protest symbolic pingpong,
through the icy streets with the ellipse
incarnate gaps and the archangel of the soul
the syntax and measure of poor human prose
speechless, intelligent and shaking with shame,
the ghostly clothes of jazz in the shadow
America’s naked mind
who the absolute heart of the poem of life butchered out

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