Ignu

On top of that if  you know me,  I pronounce you an ignu

Ignu knows nothing of the world

A great ignoramus in factories though he may own, or inspire them or even be production manager

Ignu has knowledge of the angel, indeed ignu is an angel in comical form [..]

Ignu may be queer though like not kind ignu blows archangels for the strange thrill

A gnostic, women love him Christ overflowed with trembling semen for many a dead aunt

He’s a great cocksman, most beautiful girls are worshipped by ignu

Hollywood dolls or lone Marys of Idaho, long-legged publicity women and secret housewives

have known ignu in another lifetime and remember their lover

Husbands also are secretely tender to ignu, their buddy

oldtime friendship can do anything cuckhold bugger, drunk trembling and happy

Ignu lives only once and eternally and knows it

he sleeps in everybody’s bed, everyone’s lonesome for ignu, ignu knew solitude early

So ignu’s a primitive of cock and mind

Equally the ignu has written liverish tomes personal metaphysics abstract

images that scratch the moon, “lightningflash- flintspark”, naked lunch, fried shoes, adios king

The shadow of the angel is waving in the opposite direction

dawn of intelligence turns the telephones into strange animals

he attacks the rose garden with his mystical shears ..snip..snip..snip..

Ignu has painted Park Avenue with his own long melancholy

and ignu giggles in a hard chair over tea in Paris, bald in his decaying room a black hotel[…]

Ignu goofs night under bridges and laughs at battleships

Ignu is a battleship without guns in the North Sea lost, O the flowerness of the moment

He knows geography, he was there before he’ll get out and die already

reborn a bearded humming Jew of Arabian mournful jokes

listening to music musing happy at the fall of a leaf, the moonlight of immortality in his hair [..]

harckening to the silence of a well at midnight under a red star [..]

Ignu is a natural, you can see it when he pays the cabfare abstracted

pulling off his money from an impossible saintly roll

or counting his disappearing pennies to give to the strange bus driver whom he admires

Ignu has sought you out he’s the seeker of God

And God breaks down the world for him every ten years

He sees lightning flash in empty daylight when the sky is blue [..]

He wants to die give up go mad break through into Eternity

Live on and teach an aged saint or break down to an eyebrow clown

 All ignus knows each other in a moment’s talk and measure each other up at once

At lifetime friends romantic winks and giggles across continents

Sad moment paying the cab goodbye and speeding away uptown

It's the soul that makes the style the tender firecracker of his thought

the amity of letters from strange cities to old friends

and the new radiance of morning on a foreign bed

A comedy of personal being his grubby divinity

 

Thoughts of mine written by Allen Ginsberg 

and sung by Thanasis Papakonstantinou

To the "ignus" of my life ...