Free Book of Blues by Jack Kerouac

even
    know this,
    they go right on talking
    gesticulating with hands
    I seen it, it was on San Jose
    Boulevard in St Joseph
    Missouri, nineteen thirty
    two
    Them guys didnt even realize
    pain is one thing, everywhere?
    Whai? Every golden
    sweetgirl come & befawdle
    her pillow in my hair
    and I dont care?
    Wha?

65TH CHORUS
    JEWISH GOY IN N.Y.
    Wha? Whaddayou mean,
    there are ten thousands mysteries
    of me by the millions standing
    with hand-molded shows
    and sports jacket
    and no hair
    bouncing along in one long corridor
    of images in a mirror
    into infinity
    eternity
    call it what you will!
    I know that!—You dont have
    pull that Buddha-stuff
    on me, Jack, I dont care
    I’ve seen me in the picture
    stretched out everywhere
    it dont matter?
    Who cares!
    I go to Lefty’s & eat pastrami
    on Sunday afternoon,
    with mustard—I go hear
    some music at Carnegie Hall
    â€”I lay my wife—
    I sit on the bed, work
    Who cares? Wha?
    What’s the moon got?
66TH CHORUS
    What’s the moon got but tunes?
    Wha? I dont care I’ll talk
    I’ll stand right here talk
    till doomsday, nobody care,
    nobody say, who knows? who
    wants? What’s gonna free
    what from what? Shit!
    Gold! Girl! Honey! Call!
    What you will, call it,
    shit, I’ll sit, I’ll talk,
    I’ll hang all day, because,
    it doesnt matter, you talk
    about it doesnt matter
    but you dont realize how
    doesnt-matter
    it really doesnt-matters,
    Wow man, I mean,
    Sure, shoes, Shows, Hand
    painted molds from azimuth
    shoes, azipeth azipor
    azinine blues, you got,
    who cares, tsawright, eat,
    pickles in the barrel—
    â€”hail a cab—
    do what you want

67TH CHORUS
    â€œIt all goes down the same hole”
    said Allen, eating cake & food
    in a restaurant, with milk
    in his coffee, no milk in the can,
    no sense in the sour bottom
    of that can
    All goes up the same sky,
    all sucks on same air,
    all plops drops impregnates
    and saves anywhere
    The same limitation gentiles
    the crave for a show
    on notwithstanding lost bibles
    dedicating the mystery
    to a vain empty show,
    â€˜Vanity of Vanities,
    All is Vanity’
    â€œBehold her breasts are like
    fawns”
    in the summer air,
    Her eyes are like doves,
    skin like the tents
    â€”Skin like the rents
    in the heavenly air

68TH CHORUS
    A murder stern gird
    A million dollar ba by
    Ack
    Rowers of galleys,
    Candle lights,
    Hearners of yorn,
    Parturient ones,
    Poo,
    Patch art part tea
    Gart and band thee
    Harden thy garkle
    And get ye no purple kirtles
    Ere aye mice Burns
    Hands Mc Caedmon let loose
    His last tired crazy pom
    â€˜Hung la terre,
    hang the twarrie,
    part de twaklockleme,
    gockle somackle magee’
    Down with the back rooms
    Of Dublin

69TH CHORUS
    PRAYER
    God, protect me!
    See that I dont defecate
    on the Holy See
    See that I dont
    murder the bee
    God! be kind!
    Free all your dedicate
    angels, for me
    Or if not for me
    for anybody
    God! Hold fast!
    I’m dying in your arms
    delicately
    Ah God be merciful
    to Princeton me
    Ah God, alack a God,
    nobody farms
    amnesty

70TH CHORUS
    I
    There’ll be no more ginger ale
    for me
    goodbye ginger ale
    when I die
    in Innisfree
    That’s where I’ll go to die
    to look and die
    I’ll never go there now
    Because I’ve already told the boys
    at the paper
    the sound is crashing me
    And they ate paper
    And it was a paper party
    But when the bell bonged toll,
    And we all had to pay,
    â€œDie in my arms, lamb,”
    sang Rudy Vallee
    from here to eternity
    Die in my that’s a beautiful arms,
    lad,
    Die in my that’s a beautiful arms,
    said God
    To me

71ST CHORUS
    II
    That’s just something
    that isnt written
    in Wells’ history
    That’s something, Window Knock,
    when you can make me
    pray me
    That’ll do the reading
    in London Library
    And in Dublin I is free
    To read
    Old Innisfree
    And then I’ll read Finn
    Again, and meet Magee
    In a back alley
    And get to know
    Donnelly
    And the