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Howl By Allen Ginsburg
Transcript of Howl By Allen Ginsburg
you catch a cold in your brain." What's the point? Part I of the poem communicates scenes, characters,
and situations drawn from Ginsberg's personal
experience as well as from the community of
poets, artists, political radicals, jazz musicians,
drug addicts, and psychiatric patients who he
encountered in the late 1940s and early 1950s. Figuratively Speaking... I spy with my little eyes... I call it... The excerpt "Howl" portrays a call to action. Ginsberg speaks of his generation and brings out the disturbing and depressing factors of it. Based on the excerpt, we believe it is a reminder of what really goes on in modern day life. This warning effects his readers greatly by giving them a sense of grief. Now it's my turn! Reading this excerpt, I gain a sense of darkness, grief, and destitution. Figurative (combined with vulgar) language gives the poem a razor edge that sends it into a state of dementia. The dullness of the poem sets the scene of a dark world filled with poverty and depression. Example I (Line 4 & 5) "...who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz," Example II (Line 9) "...who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull," Example III (Lines 10 & 11) "...who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall," Grief & Destitution Darkness & Grief Darkness & Destitution Here is an original poem which incorporates lines from the famous poem "Howl" By Allen Ginsberg. Roar I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, driven by modern day life,
a constant battle between who's right and who's wrong, with no intention of ending,
a label-less bystander soon to be victimized by the surrounding teens with matching or similar outfits,
who on one end of the hallway would lean on a locker with baggy khaki pants and a rebellious grin on his face,
who had the scent of kush and the wheezing cough of a dying soul and an ear for notorious hip hop artists,
who on the other hand would gain the urge to grow his hair out and gain a never ending frown without truly understanding why,
who would be desperately attached to the satanic metal with demonic screams and the singers who admire the genre of metal,
with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls,
who would walk down the narrow path, balancing himself on his weak toes and finding himself leaning to one side
which would lead to stumbling off the narrow path and falling into one side or the other, followed by a choice that cannot be re-determined
permanently scarred by the entities of "fitting in" and "being cool" without truly realizing the social warfare occurring in the parallel time stretch
apathetic to the undermining truth of the clash between stereotypes and misunderstood about how to balance on the narrow path once traveled on
then one day finding himself with his face at the sky, fists clenched, and mouth wide open with a roar filled with grief, forlornness, and destitution.
Citizen of the World. Had a global conscious of what was going on globally instead of just locally, like the dead squirrel in the backyard. Most commonly known for HOWL and KIDDISH, world traveler, religious (adopted Buddhism), founding member of a major literary movement, champion of human and civil rights, photographer and songwriter, political gadfly, teacher and co-founder of a poetics school. Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) defied simple classification. "It occurs to me that I am America." "Let the straight flower bespeak its purpose in straightness - to seek the light. Let the crooked flower bespeak its purpose in crookedness" "Poetry is the one place where people can speak their original human mind. it is the outlet for people to saying public what is known to private." Ginsberg refers to these people, who were outcasts in
what the poet believed to be an oppressively
conformist and materialistic era as "the best minds of my generation."
describes their experiences in graphic detail, openly discussing
drug use and homosexual activity at multiple points. "Whoever controls
controls the culture." Personification - "I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix," Metaphor - "Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night with dreams, drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls...." Presentation directed and created by: Miguel Granillo Alexis Melchor & Matthew Q. Guevarra I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,
who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war,
who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,
who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall,
who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,
who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls,
incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between,
Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,
who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo,
who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford’s floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi’s, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox,
who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge,
a lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon,
yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars, who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall,
suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark’s bleak furnished room,
who wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts,
who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night,