Allen Ginsberg (3 June 1926 – 5 April 1997 / Newark, New Jersey)

Having heard him perform this several times with the harmonium, I can attest to the performance completely changing the experience of the poem. Some commenters don't seem to want to allow for the Buddhist context that permeates his work in this period, which I don't understand. We contextualize/historicize not to belittle but to better understand. For his mother, Ginsberg wrote a Kaddish on the occasion of her death - just 3 years before this poem for his father. It is but one part of a six or seven part series, and he is clearly exploring religious traditions in the face of death, loss.

Very emotional poem if recited, as he did, with accordion/harmonium. I can understand why there are people who think it's inane. But I suggest those people go get high.

Ginsberg and the aims of the beat generation. How we contemplated you? Yes Father Death Blues. Sing the blues and fly home in death, its a family affair. Child, Genius, Lover, Guru Death we considered you too, and its true, death is a teacher of the blues, alone with pain poverty too. Interesting you enclose Dharma Hinduism Death within Buddha Sangha Buddism Death. Both born in India yet Buddha largely rejected there, for the allure of chaste system and reincarnation. Yes Death an old family member at our fireside, Death our friend in travel, wherever we reside.

I love this..... it made me giggle a little... but i still love it

dear Gerald D. & Kingsley D.
Thank you for your nice comment on F.D. Blues.

Oh, dear Jack Runningbear, you missed it all! Ginsberg loved his father Louis and was very kind to him. Louis was a poet himself and opened the door for Allen when he was a kid. Father Death Blues is Ginsberg's poem honoring his dead father. You can hear him sing it on YouTube: search for 'Allen Ginsberg - Father Death Blues.' Maybe you'll reconsider?

If the entire body of Ginsberg's work was printed on toilet paper, it might finally, in some way, contribute something of value to our culture (if not our sewer systems) .

I love this poem, for reasons I'm not even quite sure ot. It's so simple, but... maybe it's because I watched the video of Allen Ginsberg performing this poem, and just watching him mesmerised me. Looking at the words now, I see an entire life painted on a canvas as if by a child with some deeper, adult knowledge. Words fail me - this poem is quintessential Ginsberg, in his later years. He even said himself that he wanted to be remembered by this poem.