Samsara
The following is my tribute to Ginsberg and his poem America. I wrote this a year ago, I just thought I'd share it here.
Samsara you've given me all and now I want more.
Samsara fifty-three dollars and twelve cents May 28, 2004.
I can't stand my own life.
Samsara when will we end our human suffering?
Go screw yourself with your enlightenment
I don't feel right don't bother me.
I won't live my life till I'm in the right frame of mind.
Samsara when can we be angelic?
When will you take away the woes?
When will you look at yourself through the windows of our lives?
When will you be worthy of your million karmic trusts?
Samsara why are our hearts full of tears?
Samsara when will you send your children away?
I'm sick of life's insane demands.
When can I walk the streets and be happy with everything I see?
Samsara after all it is you and I who are painful, not the next world.
Your machinations are too much for me.
You made me want to be a bhikku.
There must be some other way to leave this place.
Denny is in another body I don't think he'll come back, it's sinister.
Are you being sinister or is this some form of cosmic joke?
I'm trying to come to the point.
I refuse to take up your obsession.
Samsara don't remind me, I know where I am.
Samsara the warm weather is coming.
I haven't read the newspapers for years, everyday someone goes on trial for terrorism. And all that's on TV is reality like I've never experienced it.
Samsara I feel sentimental about the early days.
Samsara I used to be an anarchist when I was a kid and I'm not sorry.
I smoked cigarettes every chance I got.
I sat in my room for days on end and listened to violent music.
When I went into town I had fun but never got saved.
My mind is made up, I can't get out of trouble.
You should see me reading Kerouac and Ginsberg.
I feel their mystical visions and cosmic vibrations.
I don't think my students think I'm quite right.
I won't say I'm sorry.
Samsara I still haven't told you why you're killing me, my problem is too deep.
I'm addressing you.
Are you going to let our emotional life be run by an ongoing cycle of solitude and pain?
I've become obssessed by solitude.
I seek it out every week.
It's soft silence whispers to me everytime I slink into my apartment.
I keep it in my office, in the back of my classroom, I leave it in my car.
People are always telling me about seriousness. Other teachers are serious. Hell, even most students are serious. Everybody's serious but me.
It occurs to me that i am Samsara.
I am talking to myself again.
Ambition is rising against me.
I haven't got a hope in hell.
I'd better consider my personal resources.
My personal resources consist of four cans of vanilla coke, millions of whispered memories,
a closet full of collars and a personal wardrobe primarily in black.
I say nothing about my frustrations nor the thousands of undesirables who live in my neighborhood under the blue cloud of their narcotic commerce.
I have abolished the ambitions of my youth, middle age is the next to go.
My ambition is to have a family, despite the fact that I'm single.
Samsara how can I write positive prose in your silly cycle?
I will continue like Neal Cassady my style is not as individual as his
but I have been equally unpublished.
Samsara I will sell you sorrowful poems $2 apiece $1 down on your old sorrow
Samsara free my spirit
Samsara save the desire for a positive change
Samsara Free Will must not die
Samsara I am the Boddhisattva Boy.
Samsara when i was seventeen I went to St. john's Newfoundland they
sold us tickets to hardcore shows a face full of fist per ticket a ticket cost us five dollars and the music was free everybody was drinking and fighting to the beat of the music it was all so sincere you have no idea what a good thing that party was in 1993 my girlfriend was a great girl with steel toed boots broke my heart for the first time made me cry once I saw what was happening there. Everybody must have been high.
Samsara you don't really want us to fail.
Samsara it's them bad rednecks.
Them rednecks them rednecks and them hoodlums. And them rednecks.
The redneck wants to beat us to death. The redneck's power mad. He want to take our lunch money from out our pockets.
He wants to grab our girlfriends. He needs a big red big pickup truck. He wants our homework in his name. Him big bad bully ruining gypsy freedom.
That no good. Ugh. him make punks cut hair. him no need to read.
Hah. he makes us all wear blue jeans and wife beaters sixteen hours a day. help.
Samsara is this correct?
I'd better get right down to the point.
It's true I don't want to join the Army of Conformity ot turn my students into good contributing sheep, We're all nearsighted and psychopathic anyway.
Samsara I'm putting my own philosophy to the wheel.
Samsara you've given me all and now I want more.
Samsara fifty-three dollars and twelve cents May 28, 2004.
I can't stand my own life.
Samsara when will we end our human suffering?
Go screw yourself with your enlightenment
I don't feel right don't bother me.
I won't live my life till I'm in the right frame of mind.
Samsara when can we be angelic?
When will you take away the woes?
When will you look at yourself through the windows of our lives?
When will you be worthy of your million karmic trusts?
Samsara why are our hearts full of tears?
Samsara when will you send your children away?
I'm sick of life's insane demands.
When can I walk the streets and be happy with everything I see?
Samsara after all it is you and I who are painful, not the next world.
Your machinations are too much for me.
You made me want to be a bhikku.
There must be some other way to leave this place.
Denny is in another body I don't think he'll come back, it's sinister.
Are you being sinister or is this some form of cosmic joke?
I'm trying to come to the point.
I refuse to take up your obsession.
Samsara don't remind me, I know where I am.
Samsara the warm weather is coming.
I haven't read the newspapers for years, everyday someone goes on trial for terrorism. And all that's on TV is reality like I've never experienced it.
Samsara I feel sentimental about the early days.
Samsara I used to be an anarchist when I was a kid and I'm not sorry.
I smoked cigarettes every chance I got.
I sat in my room for days on end and listened to violent music.
When I went into town I had fun but never got saved.
My mind is made up, I can't get out of trouble.
You should see me reading Kerouac and Ginsberg.
I feel their mystical visions and cosmic vibrations.
I don't think my students think I'm quite right.
I won't say I'm sorry.
Samsara I still haven't told you why you're killing me, my problem is too deep.
I'm addressing you.
Are you going to let our emotional life be run by an ongoing cycle of solitude and pain?
I've become obssessed by solitude.
I seek it out every week.
It's soft silence whispers to me everytime I slink into my apartment.
I keep it in my office, in the back of my classroom, I leave it in my car.
People are always telling me about seriousness. Other teachers are serious. Hell, even most students are serious. Everybody's serious but me.
It occurs to me that i am Samsara.
I am talking to myself again.
Ambition is rising against me.
I haven't got a hope in hell.
I'd better consider my personal resources.
My personal resources consist of four cans of vanilla coke, millions of whispered memories,
a closet full of collars and a personal wardrobe primarily in black.
I say nothing about my frustrations nor the thousands of undesirables who live in my neighborhood under the blue cloud of their narcotic commerce.
I have abolished the ambitions of my youth, middle age is the next to go.
My ambition is to have a family, despite the fact that I'm single.
Samsara how can I write positive prose in your silly cycle?
I will continue like Neal Cassady my style is not as individual as his
but I have been equally unpublished.
Samsara I will sell you sorrowful poems $2 apiece $1 down on your old sorrow
Samsara free my spirit
Samsara save the desire for a positive change
Samsara Free Will must not die
Samsara I am the Boddhisattva Boy.
Samsara when i was seventeen I went to St. john's Newfoundland they
sold us tickets to hardcore shows a face full of fist per ticket a ticket cost us five dollars and the music was free everybody was drinking and fighting to the beat of the music it was all so sincere you have no idea what a good thing that party was in 1993 my girlfriend was a great girl with steel toed boots broke my heart for the first time made me cry once I saw what was happening there. Everybody must have been high.
Samsara you don't really want us to fail.
Samsara it's them bad rednecks.
Them rednecks them rednecks and them hoodlums. And them rednecks.
The redneck wants to beat us to death. The redneck's power mad. He want to take our lunch money from out our pockets.
He wants to grab our girlfriends. He needs a big red big pickup truck. He wants our homework in his name. Him big bad bully ruining gypsy freedom.
That no good. Ugh. him make punks cut hair. him no need to read.
Hah. he makes us all wear blue jeans and wife beaters sixteen hours a day. help.
Samsara is this correct?
I'd better get right down to the point.
It's true I don't want to join the Army of Conformity ot turn my students into good contributing sheep, We're all nearsighted and psychopathic anyway.
Samsara I'm putting my own philosophy to the wheel.
posted by Richard Haines at 10:17 AM
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