America has changed much Ginsberg…/
Or, has it remained the same? In sixty-two years have we learnt nothing?/
Was Eisenhower better than Trump? Was Eisenhower profiting on P.O.C., faggots, trannies, women, Jews, and queens? Was he ignoring their plights?/
I truly do not know. The capitalists won. We now pay for water in cute bottles that choke the ocean. It’s like the most natural water ever but, like, alkalised./
They capitalised on human laziness, and human inabilities…They capitalised on backs of immigrants, legal who went through Ellis Island but forgot to pass on their languages. They tell me I think about language too much. I tell them about Sapir-Whorf. They tell me I’m too serious./
Politics became taboo. We are a generation typing poetry on the same device I jerk off to…and learn Norwegian – go Nynorsk -. I love Norway as a lover does. One step away for it is not mine, but I want to be a part of it. Norway has their shit together except when they don’t. How are the Sami doing?/
I love America. As pissed off as I am at my mother for voting for an anti-Semite, and my friends for voting for the other anti-Semite…I love it. As much as people send me out of their bakeries for sucking cock, I love it. As much as they love mutilating their sons, I love it. As much as conservatives hate marijuana but prescribe opiates, I love it. As much as people love Harry Potter, but forget to read new books. I still love Harry Potter. /
I love it as much as you loved drugs it seems. You know they are developing new drugs every day to make us behave as we should. Like little peons we are going to work. Like little peons we are arguing with family. Like little peons we are doing everything they want us. Except we are not doing that which we want. That which does not kill me immediately will give me cancer tomorrow. My mother just had a cancer tumour removed./
Maybe America is a drug…or a bacteria colony that grew too big. Maybe America is a tumour. I don’t want it removed though. I don’t want my mother not to see her son as a political entity. I am fighting for my existence, and my religion. May I take a moment to talk about racist heathens? Germanic tribes spread over the world from the Americas to Northern Africa to Constantinople. We cannot look at someone, and tell if they have Germanic blood. Your argument is moot, and racist. /
But, gods, I love America. I love the trees that look sad in Sugar Land, Texas from being shoved into boulevards. I love the strength to be oneself in the face of an opposing imperial force. I love Coca-Cola. I love Coca-Cola as much as my boyfriend loves eating my ass. I love America almost as much as America seems to love war. Ginsberg, we went to war in a country to depose a guy who posed no threat to us, hanged him, and now complain that the country is unstable which forces us to stay there. America’s president still won a Noble Peace Prize. America is a bacterium that does good. America is still a bacterium: I love America. /
The Arabs want the war, and the whites want the war, and the blacks want the war, and the browns want the war…but no one wants it. No one wants to send their children – did you know we have women soldiers, Ginsberg? – to die in a country far from home. No one wants to send their children to die in home country. They will send the neighbours’ bairns though. Why must we send children? Why must we war? They then preach to me about a prince of peace. My roommate’s a Satanist. I trust her more with my soul than my preacher cousins. I still only trust myself with my soul though. Maybe I’m a libertarian…but, like, not an uneducated, and unsympathetic asshole. /
People use concentration camps as analogies now, Ginsberg. They use concentration camps as allusions to things that are not Nazism, but support actual Nazis….when will history not repeat? When people care about minute details instead of general lies? When will you, and I share a glass of wine? I figured that g-d let you into paradise on a joke. They seem to like to party. Though I never understood the obsession with a monotheistic g-d who uses the plural. It reminds too much of that Northern Californian tendency to use the royal ‘we’. We use it sometimes, but don’t tell anyone. It’ll be our secret. It’ll be a secret like that my family love their guns more than they love me. I don’t blame them: I think that I love my books more than I love them./
We’ll call it even. I harp on the past. When will we get a new song that tells of the past, but does not dwell in it? When will we get a new song that tells of the future, but does not dwell in it? When will we get the healthcare that everyone needs? It seems like there is a new surgery to make one look younger for 13 hours, but the same surgery for 13 decades has been used for life-saving operations. Medical workers catch a lot of shit though. Teachers, too. They are just the people who save lives, and educate people to be better. Who cares about them? Who cares about Marx? Marx seems like the old uncle that no one listened to, and now everyone regrets it. Kind of like Bernie Sanders./
Ginsberg, you were the first poet I read that did not make me feel stupid. You spoke to me as an adult, not as a faglette waiting to grow up. Now, this faglette is a full-fledged faggot, and all I want is your poetry, and my poetry to meet. The poems of a Jew that were hidden from me, and the poems I carve out like marble that I hid from myself. I need to ask your forgiveness, though. I have never liked being poor. I want to be Oscar Wilde, Ginsberg, Fitzgerald – Zelda, I would prefer -, Galsworthy, Ibsen, Barnfield, and Shakespeare all shaken together in a Wilson Martini. I don’t drink martinis. I occasionally drink martinis. I just mean that I want to be witty, truthful, passionate – and, not an alcoholic -, articulate, great, daring, and well-loved. I also wanted a sonnet. But all I got was the poem that I read when I was a child, and in high school, and in college, and who spoke to me – yes, grammarians I used ‘who’ for a piece of art, for this art spoke to me like your candidates never do – in the dark of George W. Bush. And, yes conservatives that critique my lack of titles, I hear you when you use the N word for Obama, and demand civility for Trump. I just want to honour the man, and the poem that said to me, ‘put your queer shoulder to the wheel’.
This has been by far the hardest, and the finest of the challenges. I, also, wanted to use the first poem with which I connected. Even though Ginsberg is far from my normal poetry now, he will always be the first to show me that which poetry means to me. Happy Fourth of July to those in the U.S.A. Take a moment, and read: America.