Death & Fame (Allen Ginsberg Poem)
When I die I don't care what happens to my body throw ashes in the air, scatter 'em in East ...
When I die I don't care what happens to my body throw ashes in the air, scatter 'em in East ...
A waterfall, a stream a cascade of gifts for all our senses all of our needs endless, one after another ...
In our prayers, in stopping to give thanks certain to honor God, to whom we are thankful from whom all ...
The words of our forefathers, at the first Thanksgiving at the beginning of our nation in the midst of civil ...
Faith empowers, liberates removes the chains, the weights, the shackles on their feet, the spirits of their lives Enabling the ...
He was our cantor, modeling the responsive lines to his homily on faith. Echoing, joining him, in remembering the mantra ...
Wisdom poured down, palpable wisdom like a living stream pouring forth from behind the pulpit out onto the hushed sanctuary ...
More than the words written and treasured the words of the reformed apostle, shared with Jew and gentile, were the ...
One of the messages, the truths in understanding the living by faith our place here our relationship to others on ...
Now I understand, at least a bit more, the measure, the manifestation, the proof of faith, welling up within us ...
He reminded us of a truth too oft' forgotten faith can afford, offers a glimpse, a foreshadowing a foretaste Something ...
Self held in check using faith, responsible for our actions owning our choices moving beyond our past by faith, faith ...
His tremulous voice body trembling; but a spirit filled, steeled giving us a glimpse of faith of a surety that ...
He was our witness, one of our elders, telling a tapestry reading the threads of the story different fibers woven ...
He spoke from the pulpit of a life of service; but really as a witness to faith what it means ...
In their story, we see a truth of the nature of faith not only in the seeing the seeing by ...
But now I pass graveyards in a car. The dead lie, unsuperstitiously, with their feet toward me-- please forgive me ...
THE HUNCHBACK TROUT The creek was made narrow by little green trees that grew too close together. The creek was ...
Far from the Rappahannock, the silent Danube moves along toward the sea. The brown and green Nile rolls slowly Like ...
I wrote him a letter asking him for old times' sake To discharge my sick boy from the army; But ...
If the learned Supreme Court of Illinois Got at the secret of every case As well as it does a ...
I saw wild domes and bowers And smoking incense towers And mad exotic flowers In Illinois. Where ragged ditches ran ...
WRITTEN FOR LORADO TAFT'S STATUE OF BLACK HAWK AT OREGON, ILLINOIS To be given in the manner of the Indian ...
In the midst of the battle I turned, (For the thunders could flourish ...
A BROADSIDE DISTRIBUTED IN SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS Censers are swinging, Over the town; Censers are swinging, Look overhead! Censers are swinging, ...
And must the Senator from Illinois Be this squat thing, with blinking, half-closed eyes? This brazen gutter idol, reared to ...
Let not our town be large, remembering That little Athens was the Muses' home, That Oxford rules the heart of ...
In Lake Forest, a suburb of Chicago, a woman sits at her desk to write me a letter. She holds ...
In Springfield, Illinois IT is portentious, and a thing of state That here at midnight, in our little town A ...
(IN THE BEGINNING) THE sun is a huntress young, The sun is a red, red joy, The sun is an ...
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