Allen Ginsberg Short Poems

Famous Short Allen Ginsberg Poems. Short poetry by famous poet Allen Ginsberg. A collection of the all-time best Allen Ginsberg short poems

• Allen Ginsberg Poems
• Allen Ginsberg Best Poems

A Western Ballad  

 When I died, love, when I died
my heart was broken in your care;
I never suffered love so fair
as now I suffer and abide
when I died, love, when I died.

When I died, love, when I died
I wearied in an endless maze
that men have walked for centuries,
as endless as the gate was wide
when I died, love, when I died.

When I died, love, when I died
there was a war in the upper air:
all that happens, happens there;
there was an angel by my side
when I died, love, when I died.

An Eastern Ballad  

 I speak of love that comes to mind:
The moon is faithful, although blind;
She moves in thought she cannot speak.
Perfect care has made her bleak.

I never dreamed the sea so deep,
The earth so dark; so long my sleep,
I have become another child.
I wake to see the world go wild.

A Desolation  

 Now mind is clear
as a cloudless sky.
Time then to make a
home in wilderness.

What have I done but
wander with my eyes
in the trees? So I 
will build: wife,
family, and seek
for neighbors.

 Or I
perish of lonesomeness
or want of food or
lightning or the bear
(must tame the hart
and wear the bear).

And maybe make an image
of my wandering, a little
image—shrine by the
roadside to signify
to traveler that I live
here in the wilderness
awake and at home.

Refrain  

 The air is dark, the night is sad,
I lie sleepless and I groan.
Nobody cares when a man goes mad:
He is sorry, God is glad.
Shadow changes into bone.

Every shadow has a name;
When I think of mine I moan,
I hear rumors of such fame.
Not for pride, but only shame,
Shadow changes into bone.

When I blush I weep for joy,
And laughter drops from me like a stone:
The aging laughter of the boy
To see the ageless dead so coy.
Shadow changes into bone.

Those Two  

 That tree said
 I don't like that white car under me,
 it smells gasoline
That other tree next to it said
 O you're always complaining
 you're a neurotic
 you can see by the way you're bent over.


 July 6, 1981, 8 p.m.

An Asphodel  

 O dear sweet rosy 
 unattainable desire 
...how sad, no way 
 to change the mad 
cultivated asphodel, the 
 visible reality... 

and skin's appalling 
 petals--how inspired 
to be so Iying in the living 
 room drunk naked 
and dreaming, in the absence 
 of electricity... 
over and over eating the low root 
 of the asphodel, 
gray fate... 

 rolling in generation 
on the flowery couch 
 as on a bank in Arden-- 
my only rose tonite's the treat 
 of my own nudity. 

 Fall, 1953

Kissass  

 Kissass is the Part of Peace
America will have to Kissass Mother Earth
Whites have to Kissass Blacks, for Peace & Pleasure,
Only Pathway to Peace, Kissass.

Fourth Floor Dawn Up All Night Writing Letters  

 Pigeons shake their wings on the copper church roof
out my window across the street, a bird perched on the cross
surveys the city's blue-grey clouds. Larry Rivers
'll come at 10 AM and take my picture. I'm taking
your picture, pigeons. I'm writing you down, Dawn.
I'm immortalizing your exhaust, Avenue A bus.
O Thought! Now you'll have to think the same thing forever!

 New York, June 7, 1980, 6:48 A.M.