Poetry - Allen Ginsberg

	OLD LOVE STORY Some think the love of boys is wicked in the world, forlorn Character corrupting, worthy mankind's scorn Or eyes that weep and breasts that ache for lovely youth Have no mouth to speak for mankind's general truth Nor hands to work manhood's fullest delight Nor hearts to make old women smile day and night Nor arms to warm young girls to dream of love Nor thighs to satisfy thighs, nor breath men can approve -- Yet think back to the time our epic world was new When Gilgamesh followed the shade of his friend Enkidu Into Limbo's dust to talk love man to man So younger David enamored of young Jonathan Wrote songs that women and men still chant for calm Century after century under evergreen or palm A love writ so sacred on our bible leaf That heartfire warms cold milennial grief. Same time Akilleos won the war at Troy Grieving Patroklos' body, his dead warrior boy (One nation won the world by reading Greek for this And fell when Wilde was gaoled for his Bellboy's kiss) Marvellous Zeus himself took lightning eagle shape
	Down-cheeked Ganymede enjoyed God's thick-winged rape And lived a youth forever, forever as can be, Serving his nectar to the bearded deity The whole world knew the story, the whole world laughed in awe That such love could be the Thunder of immortal Law. When Socrates climbed his ladder of love's degrees He put his foot in silence on rough Alcibiades Wise men still read Plato, whoever they are, Plato whose love-lad Aster was his morning star Plato whose love-lad was in death his star of Night Which Shelly once witnessed as eternal light. Catullus and tough Horace were slaves to glad young men Loved them, cursed them, always fell in love again Caesar conquered the world, top Emperor Power Lay soft on the breast of his soldier of the hour Even Jesus Christ loved his young John most Later he showed him the whole Heavenly Host Old Rome approved a beautiful bodied youth Antinus Hadrian worshipped with Imperial Truth Told in the calm gaze of his hundred stone Statues standing fig-lefed in the Vatican. Michelangelo lifted his young hand to smooth
	the belly of his Bacchus, a sixteen-year youth Whose prick stands up he's drunk, his eyes gaze side- Ways to his right hand held up shoulder high Waving a cup of grape, smart kid, his nose is sharp, His lips are new, slightly opened as if parted to take a sip of purple nakedness, Taste Michelangelo's mortal-bearded kiss, Or if a hair-hooved horny Satyr happens to pass Fall to the ground on his strong litle marble ass. Michelangelo loved him! What young stud Stood without trousers or shirt, maybe even did What the creator wanted him to in bed Lay still with the sculptor's hand cupped on his head Feeling up his muscles, feeling down his bones Palm down his back and thighs, touching his soft stones -- What kind of men were the Slaves he tied to his bed? And who stood still for David naked foot to head? But men love the muscles of David's abdomen And come with their women to see him again and again. Enough, I've stayed up all night with these boys And all my life enjoyed their handsome joys I came with many companions to this Dawn Now I am tired and must set my pen down Reader, Hearer, this time Understand How kind it is for man to love a man, Old love and Present, future love the same Hear and Read what love is without shame. I want people to understand! They can! They can! They can! So open your ears and hear the voice of the classical Band.
	October 26, 1981 Allen Ginsberg "Old Love Story", White Shroud, Harper and Row, 1986.		Poetry