Be kind to your self, it is only one

and perishable

of many on the planet, thou art that

one that wishes a soft finger tracing the

line of feeling from nipple to pubes–

one that wishes a tongue to kiss your armpit,

a lip to kiss your cheek inside your

whiteness thigh–

Be kind to yourself Harry, because unkindness

comes when the body explodes

napalm cancer and the deathbed in Vietnam

is a strange place to dream of trees

leaning over and angry American faces

grinning with sleepwalk terror over your

last eye–

Be kind to yourself, because the bliss of your own

kindness will flood the police tomorrow,

because the cow weeps in the field and the

mouse weeps in the cat hole–

Be kind to this place, which is your present

habitation, with derrick and radar tower

and flower in the ancient brook–

Be kind to your neighbor who weeps

solid tears on the television sofa,

he has no other home, and hears nothing

but the hard voice of telephones

Click, buzz, switch channel and the inspired

melodrama disappears

and he’s left alone for the night, he disappears

in bed–

Be kind to your disappearing mother and

father gazing out the terrace window

as milk truck and hearse turn the corner

Be kind to the politician weeping in the galleries

of Whitehall, Kremlin, White House

Louvre and Phoenix City

aged, large nosed, angry, nervously dialing

the bald voice box connected to

electrodes underground converging thru

wires vaster than a kitten’s eye can see

on the mushroom shaped fear-lobe under

the ear of Sleeping Dr. Einstein

crawling with worms, crawling with worms, crawling

with worms the hour has come–

Sick, dissatisfied, unloved the bulky

foreheads of Captain Premier President

Sir Comrade Fear!

Be kind to the fearful one at your side

Who’s remembering the Lamentations

of the bible

the prophesies of the Crucified Adam Son

of all the porters and char men of

Bellgravia–

Be kind to your self who weeps under

the Moscow moon and hide your bliss hairs

under raincoat and suede Levi’s–

For this is the joy to be born, the kindness

received thru strange eyeglasses on

a bus thru Kensington,

the finger touch of the Londoner on your thumb,

that borrows light from your cigarrette,

the morning smile at Newcastle Central

station, when longhair Tom blond husband

greets the bearded stranger of telephones–

the boom bom that bounces in the joyful

bowels as the Liverpool Minstrels of

CavernSink

raise up their joyful voices and guitars

in electric Afric hurrah

for Jerusalem–

The saints come marching in, Twist &

Shout, and Gates of Eden are named

in Albion again

Hope sings a black psalm from Nigeria,

and a white psalm echoes in Detroit

and reechoes amplified from Nottingham to Prague

and a Chinese psalm will be heard, if we all

live our lives for the next 6 decades–

Be kind to the Chinese psalm in the red transistor

in your breast–

Be kind to the Monk in the 5 Spot who plays

lone chord-bangs on his vast piano

lost in space on a bench and hearing himself

in the nightclub universe–

Be kind to the heroes that have lost their

names in the newspaper

and hear only their own supplications for

the peaceful kiss of sex in the giant

auditoriums of the planet,

nameless voices crying for kindness in the orchestra,

screaming in anguish that bliss come true

and sparrows sing another hundred years

to white haired babes

and poets be fools of their own desire–O Anacreon

and angelic Shelley!

Guide these new-nippled generations on space

ships to Mars’ next universe

The prayer is to man and girl, the only

gods, the only lords of Kingdoms of

Feeling, Christs of their own

living ribs–

Bicycle chain and machine gun, fear sneer

& smell cold logic of the Dream Bomb

have come to Saigon, Johannesburg

Dominica City, Phnom Penh, Pentagon

Paris and Lhasa–

Be kind to the universe of Self that

trembles and shudders and thrills

in XX Century,

that opens its eyes and belly and breast

chained with flesh to feel

the myriad flowers of bliss

that I Am to Thee–

A dream! a Dream! I don’t want to be alone!

I want to know that I am loved!

I want the orgy of our flesh, orgy

of all eyes happy, orgy of the soul

kissing and blessing its mortal-grown

body,

orgy of tenderness beneath the neck, orgy of

kindness to thigh and vagina

Desire given with meat hand

and cock, desire taken with

mouth and ass, desire returned

to the last sigh!

Tonite let’s all make love in London

as if it were 2001 the years

of thrilling god–

And be kind to the poor soul that cries in

a crack of the pavement because he

has no body–

Prayers to the ghosts and demons, the

lackloves of Capitals & Congresses

who make sadistic noises

on the radio–

Statue destroyers & tank captains, unhappy

murderers in Mekong & Stanleyville,

That a new kind of man has come to his bliss

to end the cold war he has borne

against his own kind flesh

since the days of the snake.

June 8, 1965

Number of suicides in the United States, 2007: 34,598

Number of homicides in the United States, 2007: 18,361

 

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