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Is About by Allen Ginsberg

Dylan is about the Individual against the whole creation

Beethoven is about one man's fist in the lightning clouds

The Pope is about abortion & the spirits of the dead...

Television is about people sitting in their living room looking at their things

America is about being a big Country full of Cowboys Indians Jews Negroes & Americans

Orientals Chicanos Factories skyscrapers Niagara Falls Steel Mills radios homeless Conservatives, don't forget

Russia is about Czars Stalin Poetry Secret Police Communism barefoot in the snow

But that's not really Russia it's a concept

A concept is about how to look at the earth from the moon without ever getting there. The moon is about love & Werewolves, also Poe

Poe is about looking at the moon from the sun

or else the graveyard

Everything is about something if you're a thin movie producer chain-smoking muggles

The world is about overpopulation, Imperial invasions, Biocide Genocide, Fratricidal Wars, Starvation, Holocaust, mass injury & murder, high technology

Super science, atom Nuclear Neutron Hydrogen detritus, Radiation Compassion Buddha, Alchemy

Communication is about monopoly telivision radio movie newspaper spin on Earth, i.e. planetary censorship.

Universe is about Universe.

Allen Ginsberg is about confused mind writing down newspaper headlines from Mars--

The audience is about salvation, the listeners are aBOUT SEX, Spiritual gymnastics, nostalgia for the Steam Engine & Pony Express

Hitler Stalin Roosevelt & Churchill are about arithmetic & Quadrilateral equations, above all chemistry physics & chaos theory--

Who cares what it's all about?

I do! Edgar Allen Poe cares! Shelly cares! Beethoven & Dylan care.

Do you care? What are you about

or are you a human being with 10 fingers and two eyes?

(1996)

Beatnik poetry

Bowery blues by Jack Kerouac

The story of man

Makes me sick

Inside, outside,

I don't know why

Something so conditional

And all talk

Should hurt me so.

I am hurt

I am scared

I want to live

I want to die

I don't know

Where to turn

In the Void

And when

To cut

Out

For no Church told me

No Guru holds me

No advice

Just stone

Of New York

And on the cafeteria

We hear

The saxophone

O dead Ruby

Died of Shot

In Thirty Two,

Sounding like old times

And de bombed

Empty decapitated

Murder by the clock.

And I see Shadows

Dancing into Doom

In love, holding

TIght the lovely asses

Of the little girls

In love with sex

Showing themselves

In white undergarments

At elevated windows

Hoping for the Worst.

I can't take it

Anymore

If I can't hold

My little behind

To me in my room

Then it's goodbye

Sangsara

For me

Besides

Girls aren't as good

As they look

And Samadhi

Is better

Than you think

When it starts in

Hitting your head

In with Buzz

Of glittergold

Heaven's Angels

Wailing

Saying

We've been waiting for you

Since Morning, Jack

Why were you so long

Dallying in the sooty room?

This transcendental Brilliance

Is the better part

(of Nothingness

I sing)

Okay.

Quit.

Mad.

Stop.