“Freedom of speech is always under attack
By Fascist mentality, which exists,
In all parts of the world,
Unfortunately.” –Lawrence Ferlinghetti
Lawrence Ferlinghetti (See above) is a poet (think the 1950s Beat generation) and founder (in the 1950s) of San Francisco’s “City Lights” bookstore. It is one of the country’s best and most famous bookstores –along with NYC’s “Strand” and “Moe’s Books” in Berkeley, California.
Rudyard Kipling: “San Francisco has only one drawback: ‘tis hard to leave.’” Allen Ginsberg wrote “Howl” while living in San Francisco. Jack Kerouac came and went there. His book, “On the Road”, mentioned San Francisco this way: “Everybody wants to get to San Francisco, and what for? In God’s name and under the stars, what for? For joy, for kicks, for something burning in the night.”
Ferlinghetti was born on 3/24/1919 and will turn 100, in San Francisco at his bookstore, on 3/24/2019. That’s enough verbiage, here is a sample of his writing: “I Am Waiting”, a poem from the book/collection of his poems entitled: “A Coney Island of the Mind”.
I Am Waiting, by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
I am waiting for my case to come up
And I am waiting
For a rebirth of wonder
And I am waiting for someone
To really discover America
And wail
And I am waiting
For the discovery
Of a new symbolic western frontier
And I am waiting
For the American Eagle
To really spread its wings
And straighten up and fly right
And I am waiting
For the Age of Anxiety
To drop dead
And I am waiting
For the war to be fougat
Which will make the world safe
For anarchy
And I am waiting
For the final withering away
Of all governments
And I am perpetually awaiting
A rebirth of wonder.
I am waiting for the Second Coming
And I am waiting
For a religious revival
To sweep thru the state of Arizona
And I am waiting
For the Grapes of Wrath to be stored
And I am waiting
For them to prove
That God is really American
And I am waiting
To see God on television
Piped onto church alters
If only they can find
The right channel
To tune in on
And I am waiting
For the Last Supper to be served again
With a strange new appetizer
And I am perpetually awaiting
A rebirth of wonder.
I am waiting for my number to be called
And I am waiting
For the Salvation Army to take over
And I am waiting
For the meek to be blessed
And inherit the earth
Without taxes
And I am waiting
For forests and animals
To reclaim the earth as theirs
And I am waiting
For a way to be devised
To desire all nationalisms
Without killing anybody
And I am waiting
For linnets and planets to fall like rain
And I am waiting for lovers and weepers
To lie down together again
In a new rebirth of wonder.
I am waiting for the Great Divide to be crossed
And I am anxiously waiting
For the secret of eternal life to be discovered
By an obscure general practitioner
And I am waiting
For the storms of life
To be over
And I am waiting
To set sail for happiness
And I am waiting
For a reconstructed Mayflower
To reach America
With its picture story and tv rights
Sold in advance to the natives
And I am waiting
For the lost music to sound again
In the Lost Continent
In a new rebirth of wonder.
I am waiting for the day
That maketh all things clear
And I am awaiting retribution
For what America did
To Tom Sawyer
And I am waiting
For Alice in Wonderland
To retransmit to me
Her total dream of innocence
And I am waiting
For Childe Roland to come
To the final darkest tower
And I am waiting
For Aphrodite
To grow live arms
At a final disarmament conference
In a new rebirth of wonder.
I am waiting
To get some intimations
Of immortality
By recollecting my early childhood
And I am waiting
For the green mornings to come again
Youth’s dumb green fields come back again
And I am waiting
For some stains of unpremeditated art
To shake my typewriter
And I am waiting to write
The great indelible poem
And I am waiting
For the last long careless rapture
And I am perpetually waiting
For the fleeing lovers on the Grecian Urn
To catch each other up at last
And embrace
And I am awaiting
Perpetually and forever
A renaissance of wonder.
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