Gregory Corso

(26 March 1930 – 17 January 2001 / New York City, New York)

1959


Uncomprising year—I see no meaning to life.
Though this abled self is here nonetheless,
either in trade gold or grammaticness,
I drop the wheelwright’s simple principle—
Why weave the garland? Why ring the bell?

Penurious butchery these notoriously human years,
these confident births these lucid deaths these years.
Dream’s flesh blood reals down life’s mystery—
there is no mystery.
Cold history knows no dynastic Atlantis.
The habitual myth has an eagerness to quit.

No meaning to life can be found in this holy language
nor beyond the lyrical fabricator’s inescapable theme
be found the loathed find—there is nothing to find.

Multitudinous deathplot! O this poor synod—
Hopers and seekers paroling meaning to meaning,
annexing what might be meaningful, what might be meaningless.

Repeated nightmare, lachrymae lachrymae—
a fire behind a grotto, a thick fog, shredded masts,
the nets heaved—and the indescribable monster netted.
Who was it told that red flesh hose be still?
For one with smooth hands did with pincers
snip the snout—It died like a yawn.
And when the liver sack was yanked
I could not follow it to the pan.

I could not follow it to the pan—
I woke to the reality of cars; Oh
the dreadful privilege of that vision!
Not one antique faction remained;

Egypt, Rome, Greece,
and all such pedigree dreams fled.
Cars are real! Eternity is done.
The threat of Nothingness renews.
I touch the untouched.
I rank the rose militant.
Deny, I deny the tastes and habits of the age.
I am its punk debauche .... A fierce lampoon
seeking to inherit what is necessary to forfeit.

Lies! Lies! Lies! I lie, you lie, we all lie!
There is no us, there is no world, there is no universe,
there is no life, no death, no nothing—all is meaningless,
and this too is a lie—O damned 1959!
Must I dry my inspiration in this sad concept?
Delineate my entire stratagem?
Must I settle into phantomness
and not say I understand things better than God?

Submitted: Thursday, April 15, 2010

Form:


Do you like this poem?
1 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (1959 by Gregory Corso )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Trending Poets

Trending Poems

  1. The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
  2. Daffodils, William Wordsworth
  3. Lucy Gray, or Solitude, William Wordsworth
  4. Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams, Langston Hughes
  6. If, Rudyard Kipling
  7. Dulce et Decorum Est, Wilfred Owen
  8. All the World's a Stage, William Shakespeare
  9. A Poison Tree, William Blake
  10. A Well-Worn Story, Dorothy Parker

Poem of the Day

poet William Wordsworth

Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray:
And, when I crossed the wild,
I chanced to see at break of day
The solitary child.

No mate, no comrade Lucy knew;
...... Read complete »

   

New Poems

  1. Goodnight Sweet Love 3, Michael P. McParland
  2. Undercurrent, Asma Riaz Khan
  3. Ballade [The goat scratches so much it c.., François Villon
  4. Love Note 6, Michael P. McParland
  5. Sending Words about Overnight in Fishing.., Luo Zhihai
  6. Give me 'all of you', Juwon Daniel
  7. Leprosy eradication., Gangadharan nair Pulingat..
  8. Beyond The Dotted Lines, Asma Riaz Khan
  9. if I die young, Juwon Daniel
  10. Story of snow., Gangadharan nair Pulingat..
[Hata Bildir]