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Scattered Poems

Scattered Poems

by Jack Kerouac

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Spontaneous poetry by the author of On the Road, gathered from underground and ephemeral publications; including “San Francisco Blues,” the variant texts of “Pull My Daisy” and "American haiku."


before we all go to Heaven


All that hitchhikin

All that railroadin

All that


Spontaneous poetry by the author of On the Road, gathered from underground and ephemeral publications; including “San Francisco Blues,” the variant texts of “Pull My Daisy” and "American haiku."


before we all go to Heaven


All that hitchhikin

All that railroadin

All that comin back

to America —Jack Kerouac

Jack Kerouac (1922-1969) was a principal actor in the Beat Generation, and a companion of Allen Ginsberg and Neal Cassady in that great adventure. His books include On the Road, The Dharma Bums, Mexico City Blues, Lonesome Traveler, Visions of Cody, Pomes All Sizes (City Lights) and Scripture of the Golden Eternity (City Lights).

Product Details

City Lights Books
Publication date:
City Lights Pocket Poets Series , #28
Edition description:
Sales rank:
Product dimensions:
4.90(w) x 6.20(h) x 0.30(d)

Read an Excerpt

Scattered Poems

By Jack Kerouac


Copyright © 1971 Estate of Jack Kerouac
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-5040-3400-5



    My beloved who wills not to love me:
    My life which cannot love me:
    I seduce both.

    She with my round kisses ...
    (In the smile of my beloved the approbation of the cosmos)
    Life is my art ...
    (Shield before death)
    Thus without sanction I live.
    (What unhappy theodicy!)

    One knows not —
    One desires —
      Which is the sum.

        Allen Ginsberg
        (Kerouac translated by Ginsberg)



    Pull my daisy,
    Tip my cup,
    Cut my thoughts
    For coconuts,

    Start my arden
    Gate my shades,
    Silk my garden
    Rose my days,

    Say my oops,
    Ope my shell,
    Roll my bones,
    Ring my bell,

    Pope my parts,
    Pop my pot,
    Poke my pap,
    Pit my plum.

        Allen Ginsberg & Jack Kerouac



    Pull my daisy
    tip my cup
    all my doors are open
    Cut my thoughts
    for coconuts
    all my eggs are broken
    Jack my Arden
    gate my shades
    woe my road is spoken
    Silk my garden
    rose my days
    now my prayers awaken

    Bone my shadow
    dove my dream
    start my halo bleeding
    Milk my mind &
    make me cream
    drink me when you're ready
    Hop my heart on
    harp my height
    seraphs hold me steady
    Hip my angel
    hype my light
    lay it on the needy

    Heal the raindrop
    sow the eye
    bust my dust again
    Woe the worm
    work the wise
    dig my spade the same
    Stop the hoax
    what's the hex
    where's the wake
    how's the hicks
    take my golden beam

    Rob my locker
    lick my rocks
    leap my cock in school
    Rack my lacks
    lark my looks
    jump right up my hole
    Whore my door
    beat my boor
    eat my snake of fool
    Craze my hair
    bare my poor
    asshole shorn of wool

    say my oops
    ope my shell
    Bite my naked nut
    Roll my bones
    ring my bell
    call my worm to sup
    Pope my parts
    pop my pot
    raise my daisy up
    Poke my pap
    pit my plum
    let my gap be shut

        Allen Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac, Neal Cassady



    Pull my daisy
    Tip my cup
    Cut my thoughts
    for coconuts

    Jack my Arden
    Gate my shades
    Silk my garden
    Rose my days

    Bone my shadow
    Dove my dream
    Milk my mind &
    Make me cream

    Hop my heart on
    Harp my height
    Hip my angel
    Hype my light

    Heal the raindrop
    Sow the eye
    Woe the worm
    Work the wise

    Stop the hoax
    Where's the wake
    What's the box
    How's the Hicks

    Rob my locker
    Lick my rocks
    Rack my lacks
    Lark my looks

    Whore my door
    Beat my beer
    Craze my hair
    Bare my poor

    Say my oops
    Ope my shell
    Roll my bones
    Ring my bell

    Pope my parts
    Pop my pet
    Poke my pap
    Pit my plum

        Allen Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac, Neal Cassady

    1951, 1958?

    He is your friend, let him dream;
    He's not your brother, he's not yr. father,
    He's not St. Michael he's a guy.

    He's married, he works, go on sleeping
    On the other side of the world,
    Go thinking in the Great European Night

    I'm explaining him to you my way not yours,
    Child, Dog, — listen: go find your soul,
    Go smell the wind, go far.

    Life is a pity. Close the book, go on,
    Write no more on the wall, on the moon,
    At the Dog's, in the sea in the snowing bottom.

    Go find God in the nights, the clouds too.
    When can it stop this big circle at the skull
    oh Neal; there are men, things outside to do.

    Great huge tombs of Activity
    in the desert of Africa of the heart,
    The black angels, the women in bed

    with their beautiful arms open for you
    in their youth, some tenderness
    Begging in the same shroud.

    The big clouds of new continents,
    O foot tired in climes so mysterious,
    Don't go down the otherside for nothing.


    Old buddy aint you gonna stay by me?
    Didnt we say I'd die by a lonesome tree
    And you come and dont cut me down
    But I'm lying as I be
    Under a deathsome tree
    Under a headache cross
    Under a powerful boss
    Under a hoss
      (my kingdom for a hoss
        a hoss
      fork a hoss and head
      for ole Mexico)
    Joe, aint you my buddy thee?
    And stay by me, when I fall & die
    In the apricot field
      And you, blue moon, what you doon
      Shining in the sky
      With a glass of port wine
      In your eye
    — Ladies, let fall your drapes
    and we'll have an evening
    of interesting rapes
      inneresting rapes



    I lie on my back at midnight
    hearing the marvelous strange chime
    of the clocks, and know it's mid-
    night and in that instant the whole
    world swims into sight for me
    in the form of beautiful swarming
    m u t t a worlds —
    everything is happening, shining
    Buhudda-lands, bhuti
    blazing in faith, I know I'm
    forever right & all's I got to
    do (as I hear the ordinary
    extant voices of ladies talking
    in some kitchen at midnight
    oilcloth cups of cocoa
    cardore to mump the
    rinnegain in his
    darlin drain —) i will write
    it, all the talk of the world
    everywhere in this morning, leav-
    ing open parentheses sections
    for my own accompanying inner
    thoughts — with roars of me
    all brain — all world
    roaring — vibrating — I put
    it down, swiftly, 1,000 words
    (of pages) compressed into one second
    of time — I'll be long
    robed & long gold haired in
    the famous Greek afternoon
    of some Greek City
    Fame Immortal & they'll
    have to find me where they find
    the t h n u p f t of my
    shroud bags flying
    flag yagging Lucien
    Midnight back in their
    mouths — Gore Vidal'll
    be amazed, annoyed —
    my words'll be writ in gold
    & preserved in libraries like
    Finnegans Wake & Visions of Neal



      Dying is ecstasy.
      I'm not a teacher, not a
    Sage, not a Roshi, not a
    writer or master or even
    a giggling dharma bum I'm
    my mother's son & my mother
    is the universe —
      What is this universe
        but a lot of waves
      And a craving desire
        is a wave
      Belonging to a wave
        in a world of waves
      So why put any down,
      Come on wave, WAVE!
      The heehaw's dobbin
        spring hoho
      Is a sad lonely yurk
        for your love
      Wave lover

    And what is God?
    The unspeakable, the untellable,
    Rejoice in the Lamb, sang
      Christopher Smart, who
      drives me crazy, because
      he's so smart, and I'm
      so smart, and both of us
      are crazy.

    No, — what is God?
    The impossible, the impeachable
    Unimpeachable Prezi-dent
    Of the Pepsodent Universe
    But with no body & no brain
    no business and no tie
    no candle and no high
    no wise and no smart guy
    no nothing, no no-nothing,
    no anything, no-word, yes-word,
      everything, anything, God,
      the guy that aint a guy,
      the thing that cant be
      and can
      and is
      and isnt

    Kayo Mullins is always yelling
    and stealing old men's shoes

    Moon comes home drunk, kerplunk,
    Somebody hit him with a pisspot

    Major Hoople's always harrumfing
    Egad kaff kaff all that
    Showing little kids fly kites right
    And breaking windows of fame

    Blemish me Lil Abner is gone
    His brother is okay, Daisy Mae
    And the Wolf-Gal

      Ah who cares?
      Subjects make me sick
      all I want is C'est Foi
      Hope one time
      bullshit in the tree

    I've had enough of follin me
    And making silly imagery
      Harrumph me kaff
      I think I'll take off
      For Cat and fish



    Someday you'll be lying
    there in a nice trance
    and suddenly a hot
    soapy brush will be
    applied to your face
    — it'll be unwelcome
    — someday the
    undertaker will shave you


    Sweet monstranot love
    By momma dears
    Call God the Mother
    To stop this fight


    Me that repeated & petered
    The meter & lost 2 cents

    Me that was fined
    To be hined
    And refined
      Me that was
      Whoo ee
      The owl
      On the fence


    Old Navajoa shit dog, you,
    your goodies are the goodiest
    goodies I ever did see, how
    dog you shore look mad
    when yer bayin

    Hoo Hound-dog!
      don't eat that dead rabbit
      in front of my face raw
      — Cook it a lil bit


    the skeleton underneath
    of personality
    of a man and all his pride
    but bones?
    and all his lost snacks o' nights ...
    and the bathtubs of liquor
    thru his gullet
    ... bones — He mopes
    in the grave,
    facial features
    changed by worms
    from him
    is heard
    no more
    Life is sick
    Dogs cough
    Bees sail
    Birds hack
    Trees saw
    Woods cry
    Men die
    Ticks try
    Books lie
    Ants fly



Excerpted from Scattered Poems by Jack Kerouac. Copyright © 1971 Estate of Jack Kerouac. Excerpted by permission of OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Meet the Author

Jack Kerouac (1922-1969) was an American novelist, poet, and painter most closely associated with the Beat Movement of the 1950s. His most famous works include On the Road, The Dharma Bums, and Big Sur, several of which have been adapted into films. In 1959 Kerouac released his collection of poems Mexico City Blues. Few authors can claim as large an influence on American culture as Jack Kerouac and his examinations of youth and rebellion.

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