Allen Ginsberg

ALLEN GINSBERG (1926-2007)

The Buddhists swarmed—
around his dead body

Busy doing their tacky—
dharma rebirth routines

Allen could meditate—
for hours & hours

Some stupid boulder—
doing his meditation trick

The only problem was—
coming down from there

He’d be horny as hell—
chicken in the SAFEWAY

So much for NAROPA—
getting off in Boulder

Despite all the Poetics—
all that Spontaneous Shit

There was only one thing—
Neil Cassidy’s fine bod

Even butchy Kerouac—
fell in love with Neil

Denver laments eternally—
Neil Cassidy its Male Diva

There’s nothing quite—
like that young Stud cock

Fag poets aren’t any—
different than anybody else

Cassidy the cute Cowboy—
his true Story yet to be told

It’s the Story of America—
back then in the Fifties

It’s something even now—
that haunts all of us

But they’re all gone now—
Allen was one of the last

Burroughs in Kansas—
with his shotguns & cats

This is how it happens—
Literary movements live

They shoot their wads—
America craves their cum

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