[et_pb_section fb_built=”1″ _builder_version=”4.21.0″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”0px||||false|false” custom_padding=”0px||||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_row admin_label=”Rij” _builder_version=”4.21.2″ _module_preset=”default” width=”auto” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.21.2″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_accordion open_toggle_background_color=”RGBA(255,255,255,0)” closed_toggle_background_color=”#c4c4c4″ icon_color=”#494949″ use_icon_font_size=”on” admin_label=”Tekst Wichita Vortex Sutra” _builder_version=”4.21.2″ _module_preset=”default” body_text_color=”#474747″ custom_padding=”||||false|false” custom_css_toggle=”margin-bottom: 5px !important;||padding-bottom: 7px;||padding-top: 7px;” border_width_all=”0px” border_color_all=”#FFFFFF” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_accordion_item title=”Introduction” open=”on” _builder_version=”4.21.2″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n
In this Intermezzo 4<\/em> the famous poem Wichita Vortex Sutra<\/em> by American poet Allen Ginsberg<\/a> and the music of the same name by Philip Glass<\/a>. Background information can be found in the following tabs, including the full text of the poem.<\/p>\n At this time, we directly or indirectly witness Russia’s brutal war against Ukraine. While it is true that Allen Ginsberg’s poem is about his anti-war sentiments toward the Vietnam War, however, it also connects to our own anti-war sentiments in the dramatic violence of war in the Ukraine.<\/p>\n Inspired by the poem and the music, I went looking for the background of both. Working with an AI artgenerator, I developed the imagery you’ll find below this publication.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_accordion_item][et_pb_accordion_item title=”Wichita Vortex Sutra” _builder_version=”4.21.2″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” open=”off”]<\/p>\n Wichita Vortex Sutra<\/em> is one of the most influential poems by Allen Ginsberg, a prominent member of the beat generation – a small number of influential writers of the 1950s and 1960s and especially Jack Kerouac<\/a>, who coined the term, Allen Ginsberg<\/a> and William S. Burroughs<\/a> formed the hard core.<\/p>\n Through this poem, Ginsberg not only expresses his anti-war sentiments, but also demonstrates sharp criticism of American involvement in the Vietnam War.<\/p>\n Written in 1966, during the height of the Vietnam War, Wichita Vortex Sutra<\/em> is part of a larger collection of poems that highlight Ginsberg’s frustration and distaste for the war. The title refers to Wichita, Kansas, and the word sutra<\/em> is a Sanskrit term for a text containing a religious dialogue or teaching.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n [\/et_pb_accordion_item][et_pb_accordion_item title=”Core themes and style” _builder_version=”4.21.2″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” open=”off”]<\/p>\n The poem is a combination of personal anecdotes, historical references and sharp critiques of political leaders. Ginsberg’s distinctive free verse and spontaneous prose style are prominent. This adds to the raw emotion and urgency of his message.<\/p>\n A striking feature of Wichita Vortex Sutra<\/em> is the blending of the sacred and the profane. While describing the tragic reality of war, Ginsberg also invokes Buddhist mantras and prayers as a form of healing and redemption.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_accordion_item][et_pb_accordion_item title=”Plea against war” _builder_version=”4.21.2″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” open=”off”]<\/p>\n The poem contains a mix of poetic verse, newspaper excerpts, and personal reflections. Through this mix, Ginsberg offers the reader a raw and unfiltered picture of the chaos and uncertainty of the time.<\/p>\n Wichita Vortex Sutra<\/em> is also a testimony to the power of poetry to effect social and political change. It reminds us that words can be weapons – not for destruction, but for healing and transformation.<\/p>\n Even today, it is a timeless awareness of the destructive nature of war and the power of poetry to promote awareness and change.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_accordion_item][et_pb_accordion_item title=”Full text 'Wichita Vortex Sutra'” _builder_version=”4.21.2″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” open=”off”]<\/p>\n
but not afraid
to speak my lonesomeness in a car,
because not only my lonesomeness
it\u2019s Ours, all over America,<\/span>
O tender fellows\u2014
& spoken lonesomeness is Prophecy
in the moon 100 years ago or in
the middle of Kansas now<\/span>.
It\u2019s not the vast plains mute our mouths
that fill at midnite with ecstatic language
when our trembling bodies hold each other
breast to breast on a mattress\u2014<\/span>
Not the empty sky that hides
the feeling from our faces
nor our skirts and trousers that conceal
the bodylove emanating in a glow of beloved skin,
white smooth abdomen down to the hair
between our legs,<\/span>
It\u2019s not a God that bore us that forbid
our Being, like a sunny rose
all red with naked joy
between our eyes & bellies, yes
All we do is for this frightened thing
we call Love, want and lack\u2014
fear that we aren\u2019t the one whose body could be
beloved of all the brides of Kansas City,
kissed all over by every boy of Wichita\u2014<\/span>
O but how many in their solitude weep aloud like me\u2014
On the bridge over Republican River
almost in tears to know
how to speak the right language\u2014<\/span>
on the frosty broad road
uphill between highway embankments
I search for the language
that is also yours\u2014<\/span>
almost all our language has been taxed by war.<\/span>
Radio antennae high tension
wires ranging from Junction City across the plains\u2014
highway cloverleaf sunk in a vast meadow
lanes curving past Abilene
to Denver filled with old
heroes of love\u2014
to Wichita<\/span> where McClure\u2019s mind
burst into animal beauty<\/span>
drunk, getting laid in a car
in a neon misted street
15 years ago\u2014
to Independence where the old man\u2019s still alive<\/span>
who loosed the bomb that\u2019s slaved all human consciousness
and made the body universe a place of fear\u2014
Now, speeding along the empty plain,
no giant demon machine
visible on the horizon
but tiny human trees and wooden houses at the sky\u2019s edge
I claim my birthright!
reborn forever as long as Man
in Kansas or other universe\u2014Joy
reborn after the vast sadness of the War Gods!
A lone man talking to myself, no house in the brown vastness to hear
imagining that throng of Selves
that make this nation one body of Prophecy
languaged by Declaration as Pursuit of
Happiness!
I call all Powers of imagination
to my side in this auto to make Prophecy,
all Lords
of human kingdoms to come
Shambu Bharti Baba naked covered with ash
Khaki Baba fat-bellied mad with the dogs
Dehorahava Baba who moans Oh how wounded, How wounded
Sitaram Onkar Das Thakur who commands
give up your desire<\/span>
Satyananda who raises two thumbs in tranquility<\/span>
Kali Pada Guha Roy<\/span> whose yoga drops before the void
Shivananda who touches the breast and says OM
Srimata Krishnaji of Brindaban who says take for your guru
William Blake the invisible father of English visions<\/span>
Sri Ramakrishna master of ecstasy eyes
half closed who only cries for his mother
Chitanya arms upraised singing & dancing his own praise
merciful Chango judging our bodies
Durga-Ma covered with blood<\/span>
destroyer of battlefield illusions
million faced Tathagata gone past suffering
Preserver Harekrishna<\/span> returning in the age of pain
Sacred Heart my Christ acceptable
Allah the compassionate one
Jaweh Righteous One
all Knowledge-Princes of Earth-man, all
ancient Seraphim of heavenly Desire, Devas, yogis
& holymen I chant to\u2014
Come to my lone presence
into this Vortex named Kansas,
I lift my voice aloud,
make Mantra of American language now,
I here declare the end of the War!<\/span>
Ancient days\u2019 Illusion!\u2014
and pronounce words beginning my own millennium.
Let the States tremble,
let the nation weep,
let Congress legislate its own delight,
let the President execute his own desire\u2014
this Act done by my own voice,
nameless Mystery\u2014
published to my own senses,
blissfully received by my own form
approved with pleasure by my sensations
manifestation of my very thought
accomplished in my own imagination
all realms within my consciousness fulfilled<\/span>
60 miles from Wichita
near El Dorado,
The Golden One,
in chill earthly mist
houseless brown farmland plains rolling heavenward
in every direction
one midwinter afternoon Sunday called the day of the Lord\u2014
Pure Spring Water gathered in one tower
where Florence is
set on a hill,
stop for tea & gas<\/div>\n