What’s sacred when the Thing is all the universe?creeps to every soul like a vampire-organ singing behindmoonlit clouds —poor being come squatunder bearded stars in a dark field in Peruto drop my load — I’ll die in horror that I die!Not dams or pyramids but death, and we to prepare for thatnakedness, poor bones sucked dry by His long mouthof ants and wind, & our souls murdered to prepareHis Perfection!The moment’s come, He’s made His will revealed foreverand no flight into old Being further than the stars will notfind terminal in the same dark swaying portof unbearable musicNo refuge in Myself, which is on fireor in the World which is His also to bomb & Devour!Recognize His might! Loose holdof my hands — my frightened skull— for I had chose self-love — my eyes, my nose, my face, my cock, my soul — and nowthe faceless Destroyer!A billion doors to the same new Being!The universe turns inside out to devour me!and the mighty burst of music comes from out the inhumandoor —
― Allen Ginsberg,
Kaddish and Other Poems
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