I love the style of Phil Ochs' songs and Bob Dylan songs. I'm also a big fan of Allen Ginsberg. Jim Morrison, Robby Kreiger's songwriting is also great, as is that of Jimi Hendrix. "The Time Machine" was a pretty good book, but I'm not a big reader, mainly because I think most of them have no true meaning underlying the words or the words aren't nearly as poetic as I'd like. I'm wondering if there are any other authors or poets you think I would be interested in.
I've also heard of Jack Kerouac and I dig him quite a bit as well.
I love philosophy and Emmerson is another one I'd really like to check up on. Thanks for reminding, lol.
M.Kiehl, I haven't heard of any of the names you mentioned, but if they have things in common with those I mentioned, they must be good. I'll DEFINITELY check them out. Thanks much, bro.
33. A group of lines that form units in a poem defines a _________.
* stanza
* lyric
* refrain
* verse
34. When a poet or writer uses vivid language to describe people, places, things, and ideas, they are using ________________.
* imagination
* simulation
* imagery
* details
35. The following sentence is an example of what writing device? The pizza delivery person ran as though a rottweiler was nipping at his heels.
* Simile
* Onomatopoeia
* Imagery
* Metaphor
36. Words and phrases that involve the reader's senses are referred to as _______________.
* simile
* sensory details
* metaphor
* figurative language
37. A _____________ is a trite phrase or expression.
* chic
* cliché
* euphemism
* lie
38. Who wrote the poem The Bells?
* Lord Alfred Tennyson
* Allen Ginsberg
* Edgar Allan Poe
* Walt Whitman
39. One of the earliest narrative poems tells the tale of a Sumerian superhero by the name of ___________.
* King Arthur
* King Tut
* Gilgamesh
* Beowulf
40. Most of the sacred scriptures of the world’s religions are written in ____________ form.
* prose
* musical
* biographical
* poetic
41. ______________ and rhyme are important creative tools for a poet.
* Rap
* Rhythm
* Rhetoric
* Repetition
Allen Ginsberg
Last Night in Calcutta
Still night. The old clock Ticks,
half past two. A ringing of crickets
awake in the ceiling. The gate is locked
on the street outside--sleepers, mustaches,
nakedness, but no desire. A few mosquitos
waken the itch, the fan turns slowly--
a car thunders along the black asphalt,
a bull snorts, something is expected--
Time sits solid in the four yellow walls.
No one is here, emptiness filled with train
whistles & dog barks, answered a block away.
Pushkin sits on the bookshelf, Shakespeare's
complete works as well as Blake's unread--
O Spirit of Poetry, no use calling on you
babbling in this emptiness furnished with beds
under the bright oval mirror--perfect
night for sleepers to dissolve in tranquil
blackness, and rest there eight hours
--Waking to stained fingers, bitter mouth
and lung gripped by cigarette hunger,
what to do with this big toe, this arm
this eye in the starving skeleton-filled
sore horse tramcar-heated Calcutta in
Eternity--sweating and teeth rotted away--
Rilke at least could dream about lovers,
the old breast excitement and trembling belly,
is that it? And the vast starry space--
If the brain changes matter breathes
fearfully back on man--But now
the great crash of buildings and planets
breaks thru the walls of language and drowns
me under its Ganges heaviness forever.
No escape but thru Bangkok and New York death.
Skin is sufficient to be skin, that's all
it ever could be, tho screams of pain in the kidney
make it sick of itself, a wavy dream
dying to finish its all to famous misery
--Leave immortality for another to suffer like a fool,
not get stuck in the corner of the universe
sticking morphine in the arm and eating meat.
1968
James Franco to guest star on `General Hospital'
NEW YORK — James Franco will guest star on ABC's "General Hospital" for a lengthy story arc this fall.
The "Pineapple Express" and "Spider-Man" actor will play a mystery person who comes to the soap opera's town of Port Charles. The recurring role will begin Nov. 20 — to coincide with November sweeps — and will last about two months.
Executive producer Jill Farren Phelps says it's "an honor that an actor of Franco's caliber would choose to spend some of his valuable time in Port Charles."
The 31-year-old Franco will star as Allen Ginsberg next year in the film "Howl."
http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5iLEwaCjc14EPHMKUEiXVqX7Gv7YwD9B2D5P83
I have so many quotes I like, and have narrowed it down to these. Would any of these look absolutely stupid as a tattoo?? Are any better than the others for placing on the back/shoulders? I'm having trouble picking just one, it was hard enough narrowing down to these! They all mean something to me, so I dont need the answers saying that I should pick what means the most cause they all do, I would just like opinions. Thanks!
"My witness is the empty sky" (jack kerouac)
"When the love of power becomes the power of love, the world will know peace" (jimi hendrix)
"To thine own self be true" (shakespeare)
"Afoot and light-hearted, I take to the open road" (walt whitman)
"there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you." (buk)
"the weight of the world is love" (allen ginsberg)
When I read his poetry, it just doesn't feel to me like true poetry. Some sounds like rants. I really do want to appreciate his work, can anyone give me more info on what his "cause" was, what a lot of his poetry is about? Or just more about the guy in general?
I really like jack kerouac but for some reason i just find allen ginsberg out of his mind. I mean he was sent to a lunatic asylum part of his life and one night he was found streaking high on LSD.
The Terms in Which I Think of Reality
Reality is a question
of realizing how real
the world is already.
Time is Eternity,
ultimate and immovable;
everyone's an angel.
It's Heaven's mystery
of changing perfection :
absolute Eternity
changes! Cars are always
going down the street,
lamps go off and on.
It's a great flat plain;
we can see everything
on top of a table.
Clams open on the table,
lambs are eaten by worms
on the plain. The motion
of change is beautiful,
as well as form called
in and out of being.
Next : to distinguish process
in its particularity with
an eye to the initiation
of gratifying new changes
desired in the real world.
Here we're overwhelmed
with such unpleasant detail
we dream again of Heaven.
For the world is a mountain
of shit : if it's going to
be moved at all, it's got
to be taken by handfuls.
Man lives like the unhappy
whore on River Street who
in her Eternity gets only
a couple of bucks and a lot
of snide remarks in return
for seeking physical love
the best way she knows how,
never really heard of a glad
job or joyous marriage or
a difference in the heart :
or thinks it isn't for her,
which is her worst misery.
Seismic evidence from the USGS. and other sources?
Where the yippies partially successful?
Where you there and not so wasted you cant remember it?
http://www.americanheritage.com/articles/web/20051021-pentagon-vietnam-protest-washington-dc-lyndon-johnson-jerry-rubin-david-dellinger-allen-ginsberg-yippie-robert-mcnamara.shtml
what does that even mean?
no age or wavves?
noise pop or folk?
cassettes or vinyl?
months or years?
allen ginsberg or william burroughs?
which of salinger's 'nine stories' do you hold most dear?
would woody guthrie be proud?
do you like cabins?
what makes you smile?
what do you think of wolf eyes?
do you think 'syr 4' is beautiful?
do all little kids want to be '66 dylan when they grow up?
which is a better bedtime story: 'howl' or a harmonica?
why?
why?
do you like pop music, in the general sense?
Our research paper has to be 8-12 pages long, and I was just wondering if this introduction sounds all right or if it needs work. I can't decide.
The Beat Movement was an American social and literary movement that originated in the 1950’s in the bohemian-artist districts of San Francisco, Los Angeles, and New York City. Movement members, also known as “beatniks,” or just “beats,” for short, rejected mainstream, conventional, American values and morals. Beats, instead, invented new fashion trends, a “hip” vocabulary which included many new slang words, and a new style of literature which was much more unrestricted than typical published American works of the time. The motivation behind the movement consisted of many beat principles such as non-conformity, Eastern religions, mind-expansion, and sexual freedom. The Beatnik Movement created an era of social influence and change because of the persistent, willpower of the beat authors, artists, and poets, including Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, and William S. Burroughs.
What were their poems mostly about? Flowers, kittens, childhood...?
W.B. Yeats:
T.S. Eliot:
Allen Ginsberg:
Sylvia Platt:
William Carlos Williams:
LOL. I didn't mean "Flowers, kittens, childhood" literally.
Allen Ginsberg, Transcription of Organ Music?
The flower in the glass peanut bottle formerly in the
kitchen crooked to take a place in the light,
the closet door opened, because I used it before, it
kindly stayed open waiting for me, its owner.
I began to feel my misery in pallet on floor, listening
to music, my misery, that's why I want to sing.
The room closed down on me, I expected the presence
of the Creator, I saw my gray painted walls and
ceiling, they contained my room, they contained
me
as the sky contained my garden,
I opened my door
The rambler vine climbed up the cottage post,
the leaves in the night still where the day had placed
them, the animal heads of the flowers where they had
arisen
to think at the sun
Can I bring back the words? Will thought of
transcription haze my mental open eye?
The kindly search for growth, the gracious de-
sire to exist of the flowers, my near ecstasy at existing
among them
The privilege to witness my existence-you too
must seek the sun...
My books piled up before me for my use
waiting in space where I placed them, they
haven't disappeared, time's left its remnants and qual-
ities for me to use--my words piled up, my texts, my
manuscripts, my loves.
I had a moment of clarity, saw the feeling in
the heart of things, walked out to the garden crying.
Saw the red blossoms in the night light, sun's
gone, they had all grown, in a moment, and were wait-
ing stopped in time for the day sun to come and give
them...
Flowers which as in a dream at sunset I watered
faithfully not knowing how much I loved them.
I am so lonely in my glory--except they too out
there--I looked up--those red bush blossoms beckon-
ing and peering in the window waiting in the blind love,
their leaves too have hope and are upturned top flat
to the sky to receive--all creation open to receive--the
flat earth itself.
The music descends, as does the tall bending
stalk of the heavy blssom, because it has to, to stay
alive, to continue to the last drop of joy.
The world knows the love that's in its breast as
in the flower, the suffering lonely world.
The Father is merciful.
The light socket is crudely attached to the ceil-
ing, after the house was built, to receive a plug which
sticks in it alright, and serves my phonograph now...
The closet door is open for me, where I left it,
since I left it open, it has graciously stayed open.
The kitchen has no door, the hole there will
admit me should I wish to enter the kitchen.
I remember when I first got laid, H.P. gra-
ciously took my cherry, I sat on the docks of Prov-
incetown, age 23, joyful, elevated in hope with the
Father, the door to the womb wasopen to admit me
if I wished to enter.
There are unused electricity plugs all over my
house if I ever needed them.
The kitchen window is open, to admit air...
The telephone--sad to relate--sits on the
floor--I haven't had the money to get it connected--
I want people to bow when they see me and say
he is gifted with poetry, he has seen the presence of
the Creator
And the Creator gave me a shot of his presence
to gratify my wish, so as not to cheat me of my yearning
for him.
What does it mean?
Cassady and Kerouac, blazing down the West American coast,
roaring down the Valley,
before plunging down into San Francisco,
sauntering past the gates of Chinatown
blaring jazz and blues.
And Allen Ginsberg, giddy and sentimental,
whispering in the ear of a lion statue
about the mechanics of poetry,
ghosts of a memory, a vision in the mists.
I am doing a project and need to know the year that the poem "homework" by Allen Ginsberg was written in. I also need the source that you retrieve the answer from for a works cited.
Thank you so much!
I need suggestions on poets to read, I've already read ee cummings, emily dickenson, edgar allen poe, allen ginsberg, and charles bukowski. Any others you suggest?
I've read biographies about how Kerouac, years before his death despised Ginsberg. Why was that, exactly? Was Ginsberg just too liberal for Kerouac? What was it?
Peace!
Zenjan:
If I may, I want to refer you to the rest of the questions on Yala. I've declared this section the countercultural section of Yahoo!Answers.
Bob Dylan and Allen Ginsberg
"Vomit Express"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4BjRbyg1_BE
...thoughts?
BQ: Did you like the song?
BQ2: Favorite Bob Dylan performance?
BQ3: Favorite Allen Ginsberg song (or poem, if you can't think of one)?
Peace!
Therefore, the poem upholds individualism over conformity, showing that society should accept people as they are.
If it helps, here is the first sentence to my essay:
Analysis of Allen Ginsberg’s “Howl” reveals the poet’s celebration of the nonconformist counterculture shunned by conservative society.
Homework by Allen Ginsberg
Homage Kenneth Koch
If I were doing my Laundry I'd wash my dirty Iran
I'd throw in my United States, and pour on the Ivory Soap,
scrub up Africa, put all the birds and elephants back in
the jungle,
I'd wash the Amazon river and clean the oily Carib & Gulf of Mexico,
Rub that smog off the North Pole, wipe up all the pipelines in Alaska,
Rub a dub dub for Rocky Flats and Los Alamos, Flush that sparkly
Cesium out of Love Canal
Rinse down the Acid Rain over the Parthenon & Sphinx, Drain the Sludge
out of the Mediterranean basin & make it azure again,
Put some blueing back into the sky over the Rhine, bleach the little
Clouds so snow return white as snow,
Cleanse the Hudson Thames & Neckar, Drain the Suds out of Lake Erie
Then I'd throw big Asia in one giant Load & wash out the blood &
Agent Orange,
Dump the whole mess of Russia and China in the wringer, squeeze out
the tattletail Gray of U.S. Central American police state,
& put the planet in the drier & let it sit 20 minutes or an
Aeon till it came out clean
as it says at the top i didnt write this i just want to know if others see wat i see in it for a class i have
thank you
how do you feel about writing poems in specific forms [sonnets, villanelles, etc.] before moving on to free verse? i've always loved to write poetry and i've been taking it more seriously lately but words in free verse come pretty easily to me and its what i love to write. however, the more i learn about my favorite poets the more i hear that they started out with traditional forms before discarding them later on. so i'm thinking, who am i to be writing free verse when allen ginsberg struggled writing sonnets for years before he wrote howl. what do you all think about this? is writing poetry in a specific form a good poetic exercise? should i not worry about it all? is it important and i've just been neglecting it this whole time? thanks!!
How does Ginsberg use sarcasm throughout this poem? Specifically, what is the meaning behind the statement:
"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 "
Celtic Frost - Morbid Tales (no poster)
KLF - What time is love?
STYX - Egyptian robot type face shaped vinyl
LSD - Specially imported by E.M.I records - a documentary report on the current psychedelic drug controversy!, actual recordings of people under the influence of these drugs and the music. Comments by such LSD authorities as Sidney Cohen M.D and the controversial Dr Timothy Leary, Mrs Adious Huxley and Allen Ginsberg.
Amazing record, very strange and even weirder...no year date on record or cover...
This is the part I'm talking about:
All we are saying, is give peace a chance x2
Ev'rybody's talking about
John and Yoko, Timmy Leary, Rosemary,
Tommy Smothers, Bobby Dylan,
Tommy Copper,
Derek Taylor, Norman Mailer,
Allen Ginsberg, Hare Krishna,
Hare
Krishna
I know who John and Yoko are, but who's everyone else?
Wiilliam F Buckley, Jr. was an admirer of free-thinking Allan Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac. Limbaugh and Coulter worship Buckley and they support beatnik values of free sex. Rush said recently "I have mistresses all over the world" and Coulter said "Since I'm single, I can have sex with anyone I want".
Source on Ginsberg-Buckley relationship:www.harpercollins.com/authors/3641/Allen_Ginsberg/index.aspx
I am writing a report on Allen Ginsberg, and I am talking about his book, "Allen Ginsberg, Collected Poems 1947-1980" and I also reference a chapter within the book entitled: "The Fall of America." Do I use quotations for both titles? Do I underline one, use italics?
I also analyze specific poems such as Kaddish (which I underlined in the essay), should I underline it, put it in italics, or use quotations?
Karl Marx and Allen Ginsberg had similar beards. Find the picture of ginsberg with the 'American' Hat and compare it to the only picture of karl marx.
That's all. Woooooww
I understand the basic concept of scansion, but I'm not confident enough in my abilities to scan the following poems for my lit. project:
"Out, Out - "
by: Robert Frost
The buzz saw snarled and rattled in the yard
And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
And from there those that lifted eyes could count
Five mountain ranges one behing the other
Under the sunset far into Vermont.
And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled,
As it ran light, or had to bear a load.
And nothing happened: day was all but done.
Call it a day, I wish they might have said
To please the boy by giving him the half hour
That a boy counts so much when saved from work.
His sister stood beside him in her apron
To tell them "Supper." At the word, the saw,
As if it meant to prove saws know what supper meant,
Leaped out at the boy's hand, or seemed to leap -
He must have given the hand. However it was,
Neither refused the meeting. But the hand!
Half in appeal, but half as if to keep
The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all -
Since he was old enough to know, big boy
Doing a man's work, though a child at heart -
He saw all was spoiled. "Don't let him cut my hand off -
The doctor, when he comes. Don't let him, sister!"
So. The hand was gone already.
The doctor put him in the dark of ether.
He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath.
And then - the watcher at his pulse took a fright.
No one believed. They listened to his heart.
Little - less - nothing! - and that ended it.
No more to build on there. And they, since they
Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.
"A Supermarket in California"
Allen Ginsberg
What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for
I walked down the sidestreets under the trees with a headache
self-conscious looking at the full moon.
In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went
into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations!
What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families
shopping at night! Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the
avocados, babies in the tomatoes!--and you, Garcia Lorca, what
were you doing down by the watermelons?
I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber,
poking among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery
boys.
I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the
pork chops? What price bananas? Are you my Angel?
I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of cans
following you, and followed in my imagination by the store
detective.
We strode down the open corridors together in our
solitary fancy tasting artichokes, possessing every frozen
delicacy, and never passing the cashier.
Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in
an hour. Which way does your beard point tonight?
(I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the
supermarket and feel absurd.)
Will we walk all night through solitary streets? The
trees add shade to shade, lights out in the houses, we'll both be
lonely.
Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love
past blue automobiles in driveways, home to our silent cottage?
Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher,
what America did you have when Charon quit poling his ferry and
you got out on a smoking bank and stood watching the boat
disappear on the black waters of Lethe?
