Tag archive for "Jack Kerouac"

Poetry

Wednesday Poem of the Week – PULL MY DAISY by Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, Neal Cassady

No Comments 20 June 2012

Note before reading Pull My Daisy: It was written in the late 1940s in a similar way to the Surrealistexquisite corpse” game, with one person writing the first line, the other writing the second, and so on sequentially with each person only being shown the line before.

PULL MY DAISY by Allen Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac, Neal Cassady

Pull my daisy
tip my cup
all my doors are open
Cut my thoughts
for coconuts
all my eggs are broken
Jack my Arden
gate my shades
woe my road is spoken
Silk my garden
rose my days
now my prayers awaken

Bone my shadow
dove my dream
start my halo bleeding
Milk my mind &
make me cream
drink me when you’re ready
Hop my heart on
harp my height
seraphs hold me steady
Hip my angel
hype my light
lay it on the needy

Heal the raindrop
sow the eye
bust my dust again
Woe the worm
work the wise
dig my spade the same
Stop the hoax
what’s the hex
where’s the wake
how’s the hicks
take my golden beam

Rob my locker
lick my rocks
leap my cock in school
Rack my lacks
lark my looks
jump right up my hole
Whore my door
beat my boor
eat my snake of fool
Craze my hair
bare my poor
asshole shorn of wool

say my oops
ope my shell
Bite my naked nut
Roll my bones
ring my bell
call my worm to sup
Pope my parts
pop my pot
raise my daisy up
Poke my papa
pit my plum
let my gap be shut

Allen Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac, Neal Cassady

1948-1950?
1961

Shades of Gray

Dead Person Of The Day October 21 – Jack Kerouac

No Comments 21 October 2011

Folks.

If you you’ve been following along at home you know the dead tickle our tendrils here at the NOR offices. We spend hours pouring over documents to bring YOU a fabulous DPD every day. But today, folks, we’ve got a doosie. A REAL American Classic. Jack Kerouac was a trailblazer and well ahead of the rest of the general population. After WWII America was booming. As a nation we were drunk on growth and thought it would last forever. Kerouac got out and saw America as it was transitioning from early 20th century into the behemoth it is today. Lucky for us he recorded it with a watchful eye in On The Road. When the rest of the country saw luxury and content Kerouac saw isolation and sadness. I’ll let the obit tell the rest of the story. But, just on a personal level, we salute you Mr. Kerouac for inspiring the wanderlust spirit in us all.

Jack Kerouac, Novelist, Dead; Father of the Beat Generation

By JOSEPH LELYVELD

Author of ‘On the Road’ was Hero to Youth–Rejected Middle-Class Values Jack Kerouac, the novelist who named the Beat Generation and exuberantly celebrated its rejection of middle-class American conventions, died early yesterday of massive abdominal hemorrhaging in a St. Petersburg, Fla., hospital. He was 47 years old.

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, desirous of everything at the same time,” he wrote in “On the Road,” a novel he completed in only three weeks but had to wait seven years to see published.

When it finally appeared in 1957, it immediately became a basic text for youth who found their country claustrophobic and oppressive. At the same time, it was a spontaneous and passionate celebration of the country itself, of “the great raw bulge and bulk of my American continent.”

Mr. Kerouac’s admirers regarded him as a major literary innovator and something of a religious seer, but this estimate of his achievement never gained wide acceptance among literary tastemakers.

The Beat Generation, originally regarded as a bizarre bohemian phenomenon confined to small coteries in San Francisco and New York, spilled over into the general culture in the nineteen-sixties. But as it became fashionable to be beat, it became less fashionable to read Jack Kerouac. Continue


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