The Poetry of Jack Kerouac Read online

  Hear my song free stars, yet I can reach swelling moist, cunt of heaven admit my rod of justice, halls of Old Nirvana here comes Diamondshatter shat diamonds gave birth to Tathagata Garbha got blamed for Tranadaz & kilt in McQuentin & Mill Vallied st john hill gold huan so’s huan one world could creep satisfaction to the creeps of literature

  33Foo, you yold yang

  34Then with balls swoled up one hung low leaving the action snake no biggern at, Oi, the lone woe of Lee Lucky his basketa pittykats earthquaking peoples balls outa sight & leaving nothing but tremble-under-the-bed, the grace in Orlando turned out to be a gentle wee heatwave & a little shit (O shut up and say it!)

  35Sor god denoder pie your pinging lief bring Ida Graymeadow Wolf babe ooo brooding in the is-ness seastand grayog magog bedonigle bedart ooo the day Odin meeteth the Loup Gris, yag, ack, the day ooo dies—The day the gray wolf oatses Odin for his long slack-jaw slaver, asurp—When Ida Meadows her long gown camp the Persian disencamps & dusts—When the vision fades from the rough surfaces of Snorri & Sturla—When Eric Bloodaxe and Harold Fairhair battle for the final blonde on the last Icelandic prick rock—When Rodedodo grows Chrysanthemums by the door—When Eugene Bonedown burps—When Hair Redknife snaps the band—When Callicott Cobcorny crashes in motherlip—When Orristander boos—When Whitlip barks—The dog days of Egypt, bow wow wow—When Espinal gives the bull his final ass—When visions of the sea go 152—When Prick Neon’s nailed to me! When Carrie Methodical Divine and the nomad Patzinak steppe bedazzlers (azzle dazzle muffed my gazzle!) the Napoleon fire rings, the slavers of the lip of Richelieu, Mazarin, Colbert, Lisieux, Our-mantelle, Archanciel and Pas D’Enfant kisses my ogly roar go-down seafeet on Oregon Beachie, when trappist divine speaking whistling the window roar borovates to the endless machine hum of endless infinitesimal worldspace oogloomosanical tarpidalisaclna multivantarn go-l-ta pian par music!—grag-ashash!—when burt me-davey-grave hung mine down poles the final lot across the rivie of Buddhas and last Potilic losts flint in the Old Star, ah me Marva, a flesh carney, ah river a day, ah strikeout, that’s when I’ll bring my lesson to thee, saith window to Me—And I cried “Window, what you mean?” Said window “O listen to the spherical booding moan star music the midnight study the Faust man devil harp in hand, O hum O moan O”

  36The little tit tat tadpole honey tweak of kitty lips on my toosy two toes make me think of dwiddle tingle springs the ditties of childerhood—sang—commanded Eyrdeadan showaps to crail before my fire ping! OOlamona! call the sails, the frog croak eave drip never-rains-but-sweats Florida screenwindow with Avaloki tes var star twarping in my woondow—And did you ever say the wee that nack saw all farding blle on par ton take sick grick clap cat mat cack Mother? No that was a halting burgle—purr—eat & purr be holy kittypee pool in sand of red eyed bat bird insewecties pirking tig toont ta Ma tire free curé the school—A long unlearned heavy school noises of piano legs in the smile paradise bed? I saw lines drop like lint off kittyfur nightbed brain thought & never heaved to Atlas Shrug Toad help flashlight God but instead as written in old behooven Diamond, say, “I am grown so old & neutral I dont care”—Dont burn the cat! Second shelf for twickle cricket quiet cat held by nails go up fine smoke Burroughs in Tangiers’ll smile smile smile—Thass iss the suundt com tatl patac mo jambi va shan tu vi mara-noomavala ta ya ta ta the high ladder speech King Hank made glorp by Harfleur diners Stein bock bash Autumnal Beer Wolfe final window broken smash & cats say Krut

  37Murzner, the murzning zamming ience ouch feections possessing this itch it-globe with everybody fawlderolling around a rat satellite, paff!—spat!—kipf!—I’d rather roll kief in Ten Restaurants with bandaged athletes of Arab Sand than fwaddle fwo with Ojo Ji JoJo the Immortal Shine afternoon kidder of the India Lawn wrestlingmatch with Fatty Arduffy the goateed Bull gainin on death by inches of pot lard & him with childrees in a crib! Oi! Ugh! Oirk!

  38Tonight in Russia command the rooftops to cry up Gogol Dos-toy-evsky & Ark to lief the irk-bear buried in Freeze Sand Siberia general electrified eet-freeze come out with hank of Scythian hair in his paw, stop burlying bloody bed back and understand! Stand under sails of Callèd Ships, command whitemuff Alexander Long Island come out kill lieutenants at his baby’s funeral & if Achilles rotted in a Paird Tent so did Mercedez when he bested Oilope the Troller of Spain rag, Zorro—when Inquisitional keeners of green fields Medieval Aromoratic Armorica Eraldic Rivistica Spoign bedang the sand of rucksack tearboys dying by my mother’s thigh of gold—O dream! O Gary Snyder hero of compassion & poign! O Doll Marshall beautiful! My mind rings with a thousand iced lizard windows! I have no words for neutral! O poor bone burroughs in your yard in Tangiers, what cats seek ye to study now? The splendorossi ficuuiyus im-ling-star bangs around the landlady’s angrified lawn & still the priests whirl mind rooftop pederast poignarx!—

  Command Ardemuffin fire eaters cornmuffining in splott Lee Anne Burns the girlsinger from Hill Rich who when she throws her legs back has thighs of gold snap! Wtttasher name, Lu Anne Sins! Wow! Wait! Another forest primeval angel meet Hermyorter de Gingold play with Rheingold Princeton dark Lou Grossa punt ankle cock black as hairy murder in a lump of balls! Tie onta that, Pat! I aint got no more callings at crossings enemy diesel freeze, am gone to Rocky Mount flyin up to sunny cold flagwhip Philadelphia! So sing the song of All-Vard! Raise the hems of gold! Let sleep the peaceful ancient unclouded look of Sunday afternoon antcities in my merde murdered mind of moin—these parturiating pe-caco-ma-cunabulations in a Fireplace Suicide Attempt do bespeak a deeper purse than purpose John Roi who was overflowing with “poor perdu!

  thin helm!”

  the vision of

  Medieval Europe

  in a Shakespeare inch!

  Hairbrush! Det! Wrench! Tont! Hanging sleepcloset stasified pearl cat color of dark retreat & maybe sink in back, I want the diamond shatterer bring it down return us dear Lord to Golden Aeternitatis.

  39Uncovered by the uncut version cheapmovie produced SWStarkike in High Heaven Lion roar Windtunnel never made the bestseller list of Nigeria but sold Jesus’ last sad word to eager buyers & no Jesus to scat them out the temple—separate from every science fiction deaddog, go own neutral way, say nothing to airplanes on highways or obsolete stratagems of dinosaur battle ships & all ye such crap & tiresome world fawdle, I’m telling you God I sure is glad you Is—I sure is glad you got star me Quixote bed cat & Ma love babies i’ the house & Greyhound posts for buses—I sure is glad I wont have to perturb & gnaw on vulture lice erpasta-graficus mona, name? Tergiratirus Pastrofian—crewa, crow—The silent dharma arhat crow of Florida cool-night makes my cats perk ears—So all ye merry gentle

  40men may say the word

  the high on t high

  earliest berv

  41the who dont care

  I dont care

  fuck you all

  word free

  Zen Lunacy

  Old Angel Midnight

  kiss my ass word

  42Rapt wrote ditties, Ruckus did: as Wit: in my mind Bill is a feeling movie providing—providing?—snow—snow?—for mosquito.

  Mosquito of integrity not another State Funds suck you integrity irregularity try Ex Lax perhaps ask ridiculous state park fool or contract curtains exciting mosquitos fool by fool good day Brown Field—refuse! These are the sounds of electricity pouring out of the soldiers pension checks cheaper than fifty sentient veterans who mailed their checks to Mr. Seriouscharge—Ho! Window! Listen Gregory, science statement is million years over owned by pens as treacherous as Aga Arnold of Good Day Biddy Father Uptown—see? I’m a fool! I love reverse! I got hidden Moo-Flutes in my horn cow. I did it dad because I dood it money—I am Governor President! Bled this state for years, Altruistic politician cheat-anyone William did, & outsiders of nothing lit trusted stolen money rotten dirty fires in alumni bowery to celebrate the Five Percent dream!

  Oig!

  Forget!

  The Burden Pen company was quilled a’ter the name of Honest Tarnis
h Shakey Speary aspirer of championship virtue & threatening son Hamnet, O Dad! My conscience is all snow. In fact my conscience is coldspot. Deny no crime, avow furiously, determined accompanied company jury friends for Colonel Shoot Hog to say “Sho was a niggerlover wasnt he?” So Caroline with her wee wet spot out west wanted Bill stick his Pelican in her key twat so she could yell

  “Burt & Pen!

  Burt & Pen!”

  And that was how Innocent was born hating the sight of me—ARtavasamagri! Famme twé! Battling the nail, loose, my brain-pan doubled and I died crying I am dead! When a boat parts water, dont look at people’s asses? Fill your glass with regal feeling beer cheer happening sun just naturally! Oranges are balls of sunshine! Shut up!

  43That Christianity you have where the big fish doesnt eat the little fish, is that the Christianity of the Cross?

  Yes, and of the Bo Tree, Cannibal

  44Birdleldeedlies in our morning fresh window, O my darling sweetheart I miss you, a dum, a duma, organs & light shake twickles and erdio poralondo ogradar da the best fart test by far every swung that did it so remember what God said to St Benedict in the door of his cave at 6 AM in 892 “Live modern with tile floors and walls”—And Danny & the Juniors answered: “White Howl”—And Gregory the Great wept big tears for the fall of Rome & the desecration of Apostle Peter’s Holy Seat

  45Honeymoon couples play phallic worship, because while the bride shows her breasts in a low negligee the groom conceals hisun under pajama & bathrobes—Right?—“Let’s go get some sleep darling” means “Be long”—Everybody that ever importuned boys in Portugal, or married glamorous young blondes in wartime knows this—Everybody knows the rod of justice—Eastern delinquent boat owners despair of airplanes—Niagara Falls Violins the tower of city canadian police—Look what silver girl is doing for gray hair! Arthur Paper Mate Flow Gem Buddha adorned by hair centuries of Buddhi Toni—Lotta talent in the Manger Bethlehem. The weather is Pew.

  46My soul’s in my boots & my jockstrap holds up the stars hooray—Basie in London, O ye dreary back-fences cheated me outa Limey Love on Waterlow Bridge and ann had a way, ya dreadful stargazing heaven of roof clup miz munk end-night fryingpan blaze gold silver material, all naught smashed & made unknown by blessed no-need catholic heaven saint Avalokitesvara, O—Now whisper, filter—Caint—You aint been to North Carolina Holyland of late—Sing, heaven brought honey dovey hero stars, spermfaced, open, grant, gone, gay, sweetliest must-arc auk mock honeybird of all friggling time—O my baby eateth pone pie, stands arms kimbing porch no-clothes cunthungry baby corn!—O child in Erse Love Bigstar Holyhood hunk crib!—O my mother! O secret Friendship!

  47Forty Which? O erse friendship, mak a laking smack tongue outa Luscious Midday moik out talk, hey then I’ll pay you a hunnerd earnest children for your foy yoy candle coy-doy mingol bingle billshit pap outa me hang dont-let-em fuckoff flinging loc stare love time tak plot moy down Tangiers dreamy dreamies—See? Or bring curd yak lock lips lank hair legtledptay monshine—See? or drink less—But Old Angel Midnight I love you, you love me, let ernest sink here, I’ll snow him moon star lip kiss Out Save his breath ah vaun—

  F is for

  F

  48Mona Leisure

  49Tswit tswit the tsweep bird of tree in the roaring gulf day, hay blowing in the hay truck ho truck horizon roar of Orlandoar—Trazzz the truck goin by in seatree beachie roar—OAR!—take this I-see dream ferry, go ahead stare at grapefruit you forget how to smash meditate when you went richy you forget movies make you sit whittle sick stick whittlefool you’ll never make it now except golden pencil hurl eternidad outa bird tswip lost in explorer moon—O grapefruit! orange wheee waving moss-old void Saturday ecstatic there-you-go world—O I know all now, think I’ll shut up—You, folks, can hear the rest in ear

  50Old Angel Midnight the swan of heaven fell & flew cockmeek, Old Angel Midnigh the night onta twelve Year Tart with the long bing bong & the big ding dong, the boy on the sandbank blooming the moon, the sound wont let me sleep & since I found out time is silence Manjusri wont let me hear the swash of snow no mo in ole no po—O A M, Oh Om, the Old Midnacker snacker tired a twit twit twit the McTarty long true—the yentence peak peck slit slippymeek twang twall I’d heerd was flip the hand curse lead pencil in the shaky desk ah Ow HURT!—Tantapalii the silken tont retchy swan bent necky I wish I had enuf sense to swim as I hear, o lousy tired gal—One more! Choired arranged silence singers imbibing belly blum

  51Wreck the high charch chichipa & get firm juicy thebest thebest no other oil has ever heard such peanut squeeze—On top of which you yold yang midnockit-watter lying there in baid imagining casbah concepts from a highland fling moorish beach by moonlight medallion indicative spidergirls with sand legs waiting for the Non Christian cock, come O World Window Wowf & BARK! BARK! BARK for the girls of Tranatat—because by the time those two Mominuan monks with girls & boys in their matted hair pans sense wind in the flower the golden lord will turn the imbecile himself into slip paper—Or dog paper—or that pipe blend birds never peck because their bills are too hard—that window paper

  52Silence in my window now in the fullmoon of haiku which goes OO yellow continent in a birdbath, April full moon which rattles the goldroom little death chair that never will collapse even tho you sit 10 nymphet girls there on yr lap fall to the floor to cellars of lust—and in any case O poet—O’s of old world I love yr greatness & anyways tho what kinda world we’d have (Hi Missus Twazz) (O hullo Mr. Moon mock) a world all poits? geen! try Mawln Bwano? rurt—The old man is a moving plastic curtain whispering to find his girls pare soundless possle, the lovers next door hiding in back barn driveway the the the the the—Lottle ma songing starty this is no time to listen to just butpuff—shhh sez my Jetsun Yidam—Buddyo Ava Loki T—in Ole Oaxaca we’ll find the magic boatyard knifed flame O wick, burn, or fall—The gossip among the stars is that farledee who lit the moon end of dog turn Turk Town Tenneduck was Kansased halfway to tripe because the long thin Stick Men & the fat Slobs who ate too much have their mouths sewed up, writers their tongues yanked by hot irens, & Wolledockers of Old Gallows England buried with the dust of ancient decapitated horses of old dust Japan in bowed head oblivion that was meant for all things crumble & disappear including (did you hear?) Lury Marsh, Goniff Tward, Mic, Tokli Twa, Stabtalita Borotani, Parsh Tilyur, Cock, Brrrocky & Tot.

  53Even from heaven now O ladies & gentlemen of the fard world yr beloved angel dead are sighing sweet memoried perfumed thoughts into yr ears to keep you mindful that yr term on earth aint naught or for not, but—bu yo bink the wick swans both twist to balls the stasis hanging bathrobe—chairs crumble & get put out on cleanup day, I saw one today I’d like to sit on the moon on & be a turnpage comedian continent car-down, tryna Satisfy Catholic girls from Harvard aint my pot a tea or plate a beans, I’se sorry oh son, lays & gen-men, to the next Bardo (bardic?) (forgot) Tibetan (tiss top?) plot lins to find it Lama Lano lined the Turner Girl the mooma tannery where they say the bellrope sank the clank of pisspot grime the tanker that twirded for phantom Una southern Edward Papa river sod stashy slasheen girl Irish father iron Irish god’s green earth & die there—either that, My Dame or pourquoi?—Bed wrinkled dinkled from too much sleets, mosser dear? Got shot charge Rebel joyous Georgian by witchcraft. Ah, & what lunchcart? The one with 69 year old daughters & 690 pound brothers & all the stars of Alex Manhole clear to Rubber O North Carolina Oklahoma Indian pips—urgh, & what else—The moon, this Friday evening she’s already full & full & full on late afternoon board blue over trees & sandbanks—Dont mention his name! He will burn Buddha’s babies in this house! He will hasten dust! Nothing but faith like Abraham believes in hallucinated true heart of dumb uneducated glimmering self ‘cause the void is all illumined now & Milarepa had she-demons bouncing on his John because he loved red fires in his (fires in his?)—well, just red, Ned, & be sure to—to what?—bank the ikon—what Ikkon? The ikon silver cross that was almost buried with my brother—thank you brother—See you anon
, my pat, my lemb, in Cielo soon’s—soon’s what?—soon’s there’s room in endless meaning to accept another meaningless liar pushing pencil for to die in happy breath so nobody could see