All Ye Brave Boys
Come all you young men that proudly display
Your torsos to the sun on upper Broadway
Come sweet hearties so mighty with girls
So lithe and naked to kiss their gold curls
Come beautiful boys with breasts bright gold
Lie down with me in bed ere ye grow old,
Take down your blue jeans, we'll have some raw fun
Lie down on your bellies I'll fuck your soft bun.
And so on for three more stanzas full of "studs," "sturdy cocks," "tight assed," "come in your butt" et cetera. He really did produce a lot of tosh, that Ginsberg. And there's no excuse in his remark that he wrote this at 4 a.m. It's simply not a civilized time to be writing a poem.
Twenty-two years later he wrote
I am the King of the Universe
I am the Messiah with a new dispensation
Excuse me I stepped on a nail.
This is possibly even worse. He's like a photographer who elaborately printed and framed every single out-of-focus snapshot he ever took.
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