Reminiscences Of A Starless American Night In The Cold Neon Highways Scattering Truth Consciousness: Allen Ginsberg’s Howl and The Absolute Conformity of the Self
“We used to believe
In the good ole days
We still receive
In little ways
The things of kindness
& unsporting brow
Forget & allow
Did you know freedom exists
Ina school book …
– Jim Morrison
“I’m with you in Rockland
in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night”. – Howl by Allen Ginsberg, San Francisco 1955-56
If I am awake in those pavements
Received the light granted to me
If I am awake in those moments
By a sudden shiver that disentangled my brain from feelings
Reason didn’t persuade me to walk on waters
Nor did it profess to ensconce the sun on the spiral staircase
Then it looked utterly simple
This world, its maiden plump shadow and earthly odour
This body came out of a sensation
Invigorating the carcass with uranium sands
My nerves dangled with stars in profusion
Encircled a whole creation
A marble of plasticity that must explain the separation of superposition logic
Mixing sweat with lava and the charred bones of animal earth
A labour of the soul interpenetrating the elemental worlds
A play of inconscience with the superconscience
Anima Mundi entered the heart of the Heliospheres
An arrow spanning eons was shot from the quivering lips
It sprung words from the fountain of liquid time
Liquid because it obeyed gravity and didn’t think otherwise
And utterly innocent memories lapsed in the guise
Too wise to forget the vaporised dew on the face of things
That will clutter as raindrops on the shaligram shila
Nature’s precedents amplify the colors of a reminiscing spring
Like an old gramophone in the heart
It beat the desired vibration of subatomic chondrites
Louanimghor louvanimghor louhastreta soham
Poetry’s miniature in the formless attributes
Ever seeking words to manifest its new sign
Through the dilemma of stillness amidst the last action of the gods
The Supermind has descended on earth
And as they prepare the ceremony of the dead and the unborn living
From vrihat samhita sutras
The seven seers awake the child from their sleep
A time when the winds whipped the sea screaming:
Howl! Howl! Howl!
– J
PS: http://psychedelicsutra.blogspot.in