Allen Ginsberg (3 June 1926 – 5 April 1997 / Newark, New Jersey)
First Party At Ken Kesey's With Hell's Angels
Cool black night thru redwoods
cars parked outside in shade
behind the gate, stars dim above
the ravine, a fire burning by the side
porch and a few tired souls hunched over
in black leather jackets. In the huge
wooden house, a yellow chandelier
at 3 A.M. the blast of loudspeakers
hi-fi Rolling Stones Ray Charles Beatles
Jumping Joe Jackson and twenty youths
dancing to the vibration thru the floor,
a little weed in the bathroom, girls in scarlet
tights, one muscular smooth skinned man
sweating dancing for hours, beer cans
bent littering the yard, a hanged man
sculpture dangling from a high creek branch,
children sleeping softly in their bedroom bunks.
And 4 police cars parked outside the painted
gate, red lights revolving in the leaves.
December 1965
Read poems about / on: house, children, red, fire, night, car, dance, girl, child, sleep, star, angel
Comments about this poem (First Party At Ken Kesey's With Hell's Angels by Allen Ginsberg )
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i honestly believe, under those conditions, with his mindset, he probally could have written anything, and it would have been beautiful