Allen Ginsberg
This Form of Life Needs Sex
I will have to accept women
if I want to continue the race,
kiss breasts, accept
strange hairy lips behind
buttocks
Look in questioning womanly eyes
answer soft cheeks,
bury my loins in the hang of pearplum
fat tissue
I had abhorred
before I give godspasm Babe leap
forward thru death --
Between me and oblivion an unknown
woman stands;
Not the Muse but living meat-phantom,
a mystery scary as my fanged god
sinking its foot in its gullet &
vomiting its own image out of its ass
-- This woman Futurity I am pledge to
born not to die,

but my issue my own cockbrain replica Me-Hood
again -- For fear of the Blot?
Face of Death, my Female, as I'm sainted
to my very bone,
I'm fated to find me a maiden for
ignorant Fuckery --
flapping my belly & smeared with Saliva
shamed face flesh & wet,
-- have long droopy conversations
in Cosmical Duty boudoirs,
maybe bored?
Or excited New Prospect, discuss
her, Futurity, my Wife
My Mother, Death, My only
hope, my very Resurrection
Woman
herself, why have I feared
to be joined true
embraced beneath the Panties of Forever
in with the one hole that repelled me 1937 on?
-- Pulled down my pants on the porch showing
my behind to cars passing in the rain --
& She be interested, this contact with Silly new Male
that's sucked my loveman's cock
in Adoration & sheer beggary romance-awe
gulp-choke Hope of Life come
and buggered myself innumerably boy-yangs
gloamed inward so my solar plexus
feel godhead in me like an open door --
Now that's changed my decades body old
tho' admiring male thighs at my brow,
hard love pulsing thru my ears,
stern buttocks upraised
for my masterful Rape
that were meant for a private shit
if the Army were All --
But no more answer to life
than the muscular statue
I felt up its marbles
envying Beauty's immortality in the
museum of Yore --
You can fuck a statue but you can't
have children
You can joy man to man but the Sperm
comes back in a trickle at dawn
in a toilet on the 45th Floor --
& Can't make continuous mystery out of that
finished performance
& ghastly thrill
that ends as began,
stupid reptile squeak
denied life by Fairy Creator
become Imaginary
because he decided not to incarnate
opposite -- Old Spook
who didn't want to be a baby & die,
didn't want to shit and scream
exposed to bombardment on a
Chinese RR track
and grow up to pass his spasm on
the other half of the Universe --
Like a homosexual capitalist afraid of the masses --
and that's my situation, Folks --