Hum Bom!

Bono, an admirer of the legendary beat poet, recited Ginsberg’s poem “America” on The Joshua Tree outtake “Drunk Chicken / America.”

In a 1997 video filmed just months before Ginsberg’s death, the poet hung out on a New York City rooftop with U2 and recited the lyrics to the band’s song “Miami”.

Bono also spoke about his love of Ginsberg’s work in the documentary The Life and Times of Allen Ginsberg.

“I fell in love with Allen Ginsberg’s poetry round about the time, I suppose that I fell in love with America, and, you know, it was such a new world for me,” the singer said in the film. “It seemed like this was just so different to Europe, and it made sense to me that, in the way that America needed a new music to describe it, like jazz, it also needed a new language to describe it, and I think Allen Ginsberg and the Beats created a necessary language to describe the place they lived in, not just the physical landscape but the sort of psychological one.”

Střepy #3

Osamělost Podzimu jen nedokázala
pustit k sobě něco jiného než sebe samu.
Myslel jsem si, že Podzim trpí,
ale pak mi došlo, že také ne -
že to je zas řád věcí,
který nemohu a nechci pochopit.
Veliké tajemství,
jehož je snad Podzim mlčenlivým strážcem.
A také jsem ho začal milovat -
- z dálky a oddaně.
Jeho proměna byla tichá jako jeho příchod,
a ikdyž jsem věděl, že tomu tak není,
jen u něho mi přišlo na mysli umíraní...

a lidi?
Lidi se do mého vyprávění nějak nevešli,
asi tam nepatří.

No dobrá, dobrá,
tak jsem se pomát.
Ale podlaze se to líbilo.

To pak klidně zvážněl,
nepatrným gestem přivolal soumrak
a poslal mi do okna vítr.
Vítr - posel s pláštěm naděje
pokládal mi dlaně na čelo
a očima se mi dostával
až hluboko k srdci.

ppu

vyráží ze své práchniviny
tyto jalové a idiotské dny
jalové a idiotské dny
dny plaňky, dny plevel
prázdné a nestravitelné
dny košťály
bílé - udivené a nepotřebné dny
tyto dny
nepravidelné a nevyrovnané
nevzdělané a spolu srostlé
.

codex

Sleight of hand
Jump off the end
Into a clear lake
No one around

Just dragonflies
Fly to the side
No one gets hurt
You’ve done nothing wrong

Slide your hand
Jump off the end
The water’s clear and innocent
The water’s clear and innocent


more lyrics @ green plastic

Strepy

~
Zkus si ten příběh
Stačí jen málo
Stačí se jen trochu odhodlat
A udělat první krok
Tak… jen se o to pokus
Budu na tebe myslet

Snad to nebude bolet
Snad už to konečně bude krásný
Ale musíš se pokusit
Už není čas jen tak se pořád rozhlížet


Filip Topol: frontman Psích vojáků, nejlepší současný český básník.
[!spoiler warning!]
Střepy: sólový projekt, melodram, pouze klavír + recitace/zpěv, něco úžasného, jedinečného, nejhlubší a nejryzejší trip do nitra člověka jaký je ještě sdělitelný, nutno poslouchat o samotě a mimo čas. Omlouvám se za tento spoiler, ukradl vám to nejsilnější, totiž ten okamžik, kdy ležíte ve tři ráno v nějakém podkrovním pokoji, po tmě si pouštíte hudbu, kterou jste si už dávno chtěli poslechnout a o které nic nevíte, a najednou na vás kdosi promluví, kdosi pronese zvláštní větu a ozve se tichý akord. Od tohoto okamžiku je to exkurz do ryzího prožitku. Nikdy se ho už nezbavíte...

tento týždeň Filip Topol v Respektu:

Říkáte, že rád žijete sám, "mezi smyčci" - necítíte se osaměle?

Cítim, ale už jsem si zvykl.
Někdy, když přijdu domů, tak bych se rád schoulil,
jenže to nejde a s tím nic neudělám.
A tak když přijdu domů, jsem třeba vyčerpanej a třeba i přiopilej,
po paměti sáhnu do police, vytáhnu třeba Händelovu Vodní hudbu
a pak si při poslechu říkám:
vždyť se nic neděje, svět je dokonalým pořádku.

The Rider

Dream of Life

Peace. Peace.
He is not dead.
He does not sleep.
He had awakened
from the dream
of life.



"footnote to howl" by allen ginsberg

Holy! (x15)
The world is holy...The soul is holy..The skin is holy..
The nose is holy..The tongue and cock and hand
and asshole holy
Everything is holy...everybody's holy..everywhere is
holy..everyday is in eternity..Everyman's an
angel
The bum's as holy as the seraphim...the madman is
holy as you my soul are holy..
The typewriter is holy the poem is holy the voice is
holy the hearers are holy the ecstasy is holy..
Holy Peter holy Allen holy Solomon holy Lucien holy
Kerouac holy Huncke holy Burroughs holy Cassady
holy the unknown buggered and suffering
beggars holy the hideous human angels..
Holy my mother in the insane asylum...Holy the cocks
of the grandfathers of Kansas..
Holy the groaning saxophone..Holy the bop
apocalypse..Holy the jazzbands marijuana
hipsters peace & junk & drums..
Holy the solitudes of skyscrapers and pavements..Holy
the cafeterias filled with the millions..Holy the
mysterious rivers of tears under the streets..
Holy the lone juggernaut!..Holy the vast lamb of the
middle class..Holy the crazy shepherds of rebellion
Who digs Los Angeles IS Los Angeles..
Holy New York Holy San Francisco Holy Peoria &
Seattle Holy Paris Holy Tangiers Holy Moscow
Holy Istanbul
Holy time in eternity holy eternity in time holy the
clocks in space holy the fourth dimension holy
the fifth International holy the Angel in Moloch..
Holy the sea holy the desert holy the railroad holy the
locomotive holy the visions holy the hallucinations
holy the miracles holy the eyeball holy the
abyss...
Holy forgiveness..mercy! charity! faith! Holy! Ours!
bodies! suffering! magnanimity!
Holy the supernatural extra brilliant intelligent
kindness of the soul!

(Berkeley, 1955)

dylan

dylan

lovely and amazing

She said, 'Father, mother, sister, brother,
Uncle, aunt, nephew, niece,
Soldier, sailor, physician, labourer,
Actor, scientist, mechanic, priest,
Earth and moon and sun and stars
Planets and comets with tails blazing
All are there forever falling
Falling lovely and amazing.'

Ian

In the end it doesn't really matter...

I've been waiting for a guide to come and take me by the hand
Could these sensations make me feel the pleasures of a normal man
These sensations barely interest me for another day
I've got the spirit, lose the feeling, take the shock away

It's getting faster, moving faster now, it's getting out of hand
On the tenth floor, down the backstairs, into no man's land
Lights are flashing, cars are crashing, getting frequent now
I've got the spirit, lose the feeling, let it out somehow

What means to you, what means to me, and we will meet again
I'm watching you, I'm watching her, I'll take no pity from you friends
Who is right, who can tell and who gives a damn right now

Until the spirit new sensation takes hold, then you know

I've got the spirit, but lose the feeling

Feeling

Three White Wolves

Autobiography - Patti Smith

great human wild animal
amoral
an outlaw
keep watch over her

I was born in Illinois...mainline of America...
beat to shit...Chicago tenement
big red eyd rats in the night...dead rats to tease at night
Morning...I waired for the organ grinder
with my nickle for the monkeys tin cup
gingerbread man,,,cotton candy man
bad girl setting fire to the oil cans
run like hell escape on the icemans truck
I was a lisping ugly duck
but I had good luck

Mama filled me with fantasy...my bears danced at midnight
even my toybox had a soul
Mama called me her goat girl...little black sheep
I loved my brother and sister: Todd and Linda
we drank each others blood...were double blood brothers
we rolled in fields...three white wolves...we practiced telepathy
no one could seperate us...our minds were one
One, little one eye...I had an eyepatch...I walked like a duck
In the yards the nursery children cried Quack Quack
I didn't care and I didn't fight back.
I floated off...fantasy gave me fire...I was made of water
the moon caused tidal waves and I'd cry like a coyote.

I learned to drift...magik...taroc pack
I paraded in thirty disguises
and when people laughed at my carnival family
We didn't care...We had amour:
Daddy was a tap dancer...acrobat...wild horse
tracing pornography through the bible.
Mama was the dream of every sailor...bootlegged whiskey
called spirits from the evenings half moon...dream weaver
We braved hurricanes...a new baby came...I named her Kim
the neighbors were suspicious...they called us witches
we didn't care...we were laughing and dancing and damned
and there was always music
Hank Williams crying off the lonesomes
funny valentine...Patty Waters
beat of the drum...bartok
song of the swamp rat
rock and roll music
rock and roll music

Rythum
On my own...my own rythums:
rythum of the railroad
steamheat of the factory
Alabama blues on a migrant bus
but as a blueberry picker I failed...I dreamed too much
the berry crop died...my mother smiled.
I ran off...I traveled...I broke down
kept running...TB trapped in the lung...spitting on the railroad track
I shook...I drank...rythum of one too many rhums
Drunk and broke down I slinked home...grabbed my sisters hand
and away we run...we took a frighter to Iceland
railway to Paris...Pigalle and wine in a black dress
I joined the fire eaters and sang in the streets...using all I learned
from Lotte Lenya...Bob Dylan...and motorcycle rock n'roll
We lived near a wishing well...milked goats...capyured snails
and crawled back to New York.
New York my greatest love:
Rise of the building
flash of 42nd street...the pool halls...the hustlers
the trucks along tenth avenue
the helicopter yards
ghost of Jackson Pollock
human shit and dead dog floating on the Hudson River
moving...I kept moving
dreaming:
Panama...heart of adventure
the hot life of Mexico
the drunkard...the dock worker
Rythum...flash of white hair...winter
the Jesters...the Paragons
rise of the blue heron
breathe through the great rythum
scream through the Shepard
sing through that rock n'roll music
rock n'roll music
rock n'roll music
rock n'roll

Published in The Patti Smith Fan Club, Journal, #6,

July of 1978 and luckily seen the light of a day again

just recently thanks to Don from Eternal Cafe.