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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=342364" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Transcription of Organ Music</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The flower in the glass peanut bottle formerly in the<br>kitchen crooked to take a place in the light, <br>the closet door opened, because I used it before, it<br>kindly stayed open waiting for me, its owner.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I began to feel my misery in pallet on floor, listening<br>to music, my misery, that's why I want to sing.<br>The room closed down on me, I expected the presence <br>of the Creator, I saw my gray painted walls and<br>ceiling, they contained my room, they contained<br>me<br>as the sky contained my garden,<br>I opened my door</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The rambler vine climbed up the cottage post,<br>the leaves in the night still where the day had placed<br>them, the animal heads of the flowers where they had <br>arisen<br>to think at the sun</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Can I bring back the words? Will thought of <br>transcription haze my mental open eye?<br>The kindly search for growth, the gracious de-<br>sire to exist of the flowers, my near ecstasy at existing<br>among them<br>The privilege to witness my existence-you too<br>must seek the sun...</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My books piled up before me for my use<br>waiting in space where I placed them, they<br>haven't disappeared, time's left its remnants and qual-<br>ities for me to use--my words piled up, my texts, my <br>manuscripts, my loves.<br>I had a moment of clarity, saw the feeling in<br>the heart of things, walked out to the garden crying.<br>Saw the red blossoms in the night light, sun's <br>gone, they had all grown, in a moment, and were wait-<br>ing stopped in time for the day sun to come and give<br>them...<br>Flowers which as in a dream at sunset I watered<br>faithfully not knowing how much I loved them.<br>I am so lonely in my glory--except they too out<br>there--I looked up--those red bush blossoms beckon-<br>ing and peering in the window waiting in the blind love,<br>their leaves too have hope and are upturned top flat<br>to the sky to receive--all creation open to receive--the <br>flat earth itself.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The music descends, as does the tall bending <br>stalk of the heavy blssom, because it has to, to stay<br>alive, to continue to the last drop of joy.<br>The world knows the love that's in its breast as<br>in the flower, the suffering lonely world.<br>The Father is merciful.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The light socket is crudely attached to the ceil-<br>ing, after the house was built, to receive a plug which<br>sticks in it alright, and serves my phonograph now...</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The closet door is open for me, where I left it,<br>since I left it open, it has graciously stayed open.<br>The kitchen has no door, the hole there will <br>admit me should I wish to enter the kitchen.<br>I remember when I first got laid, H.P. gra-<br>ciously took my cherry, I sat on the docks of Prov-<br>incetown, age 23, joyful, elevated in hope with the<br>Father, the door to the womb wasopen to admit me<br>if I wished to enter.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There are unused electricity plugs all over my<br>house if I ever needed them.<br>The kitchen window is open, to admit air...<br>The telephone--sad to relate--sits on the<br>floor--I haven't had the money to get it connected--</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I want people to bow when they see me and say<br>he is gifted with poetry, he has seen the presence of<br>the Creator<br>And the Creator gave me a shot of his presence<br>to gratify my wish, so as not to cheat me of my yearning<br>for him.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Allen+Ginsberg">Allen Ginsberg</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=342364" data-title="Transcription of Organ Music de Allen Ginsberg" data-description="The flower in the glass peanut bottle formerly in the
kitchen crooked to take a place in the light, 
the closet door opened, because I used it before, it
kindly stayed open waiting for me, its owner.

I began to feel my misery in pallet on floor, ..."></div>
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