Mexico City Blues
Jack KerouacMexico City Blues Sözleri ve Alıntıları
Mexico City Blues sözleri ve alıntılarını, Mexico City Blues kitap alıntılarını, Mexico City Blues en etkileyici cümleleri ve paragragları 1000Kitap'ta bulabilirsiniz.A white poem, a white pure
spotless poem
A bright poem
A nothing poem
A no-poem non poem
nondream clean
silverdawn clear
silent of birds
pool-burble-bark
clear
the lark of trees
the needle pines
the rock the pool
the sandy shore
the cleanness of dogs
the
frogs
the
pure white
spotless
Honen
Honey Land
Blues
Sayfa 204Kitabı okudu
All of this meat is in dreadful pain
Anytime circumstances attain
To its attention like a servant
And pricking goads invest the flesh,
And it quivers, meat, & owner cries
And wishes ‘Why was I born with a body,
Why do I have this painful hive
Of hope-of-honey-milk yet bane
Of bitterest reward, as if, to wish
For flesh was sin alone itself —?’
And now you gotta pay, rhinoceros
and you,
Tho his hide's toughern ten young men
Armed with picks against the Grim
Reaper
Whose scythe is preceded by pitchforks
Of temptation & hell, the Horror:
‘Think of pain, you're being hurt,
Hurry, hurry, think of pain
Before they make a fool of you
And discover that you dont feel
It's the best possible privilege
To be alive just to die
And die in denizen of misery’
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Importunate fool that I was,
I raved to fight Saviors
Instead of listening in
To the Light — still a fool
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I want to be considered a jazz poet blowing a long blues in an afternoon jam session on Sunday.
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Musically as important as Beethoven,
Yet not regarded as such at all,
A genteel conductor of string
orchestras
In front of which he stood,
Proud and calm, like a leader
of music
In the Great Historic World Night,
And wailed his little saxophone,
The alto, with piercing clear
lament
In perfect tune & shining harmony,
Toot — as listeners reacted
Without showing it, and began talking
And soon the whole joint is rocking
And everybody talking and Charley
Parker
Whistling them on to the brink of eternity
With his Irish St Patrick
patootle stick,
And like the holy piss we blop
And we plop in the waters of
slaughter
And white meat, and die
One after one, in time.
Sayfa 244Kitabı okudu