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John Giorno

THERE WAS A BAD TREE

  • 1 EVERYONE GETS LIGHTER | Translations: de
  • 2 WELCOMING THE FLOWERS | Translations: de
  • 3 JUST SAY NO TO FAMILY VALUES | Translations: deru
  • 4 THE DEATH OF WILLIAM BURROUGHS | Translations: de
  • 5 LA SAGGEZZA DELLE STREGHE
    WISDOM OF THE WITCHES
    | Translations: de
  • 6 THERE WAS A BAD TREE | Translations: de
  • 7 THANX 4 NOTHING
Language: english
Translations: german (ES WAR DA MAL EIN SCHLECHTER BAUM)
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THERE WAS A BAD TREE

There was a bad
tree
a bad tree,
that people
hated.
The leaves gave off
a foul
smell,
and the flowers
had a bitter
stink.
If you got too close,
you vomited.
The fruit
was poison,
one bite
and you were dead.

Everyone really
disliked it.
The bad tree
stunk.
They talked
endlessly about it;
and decided
to cut it down.
Get rid of it.
They chopped
with axes,
and barely made a dent;
wearing breathing masks,
they whacked at it
and whacked at it,
and nibbled and chipped.
Oily powder
from the shiny dark green leaves,
got on their skin,
blistered,
and was really itchy;
and they scratched
bloody red.

They put on
protective gear
with oxygen,
and went at it with
electric buzz saws
and heavy equipment.
Working 24-hour shifts,
finally, they cut it down.

Everyone was very happy,
and celebrated
the great victory.
A noble deed, well done;
and they went to bed exhausted.
The next morning,
the bad tree
had grown back,
had sprung up
new and bigger,
and more beautiful
and ugly.

It was very discouraging.
They talked a lot about it,
and cut it down again,
and poured gasoline on the roots,
and burned all the leaves and branches
in a big fire.
After the smoldering embers
got cold,
the tree grew back,
bigger,
more bad,
and really gorgeous.

Other people
had been watching
from their houses,
waiting their turn.
They thought themselves
smarter,
with higher intellectual
capabilities,
they knew how
to get rid of the tree.
It was a growing plant,
a wood tree
that grew in the earth.

They incinerated it,
burned the roots
with chemicals,
vaporizing acids,
and robotic lasers;
detonated
on the ground,
bombed
from the air,
hit
with smart missiles;
and bombarded
with radiation.
They made
a fire storm;
and covered the ground
with concrete
and steel.

The tree grew back,
more fresh,
more elegant, even gracious;
and really ugly.
The wood was
harder,
darker,
more shiny,
thick hot muscle;
and the leaves,
full and lush,
moved like underwater plants
luxuriously in the breeze.

Everyone was very depressed,
extremely discouraged.
It was a catastrophe.
They had made for themselves
a hell world.

They talked incessantly about it,
and came to a big decision.
The Mayor resigned
in disgrace,
and those, who had worked
so hard,
left,
humiliated,
departed,
moved to the other side of town,
stayed away.

Then, out of the blue, appeared
these beautiful people,
They were simple
and humble,
and a little like peacocks,
and seemingly well-intentioned,
with a great sense of humor.
Radiantly relaxed,
oozing
loving kindness
and compassion,
they walked right up,
and started eating
the leaves.
They ate the leaves
and enjoyed them,
became happy,
and laughed
and laughed;
and chomped on more leaves.
You could tell they really
liked the taste.

They pressed
their cheeks
to the flowers,
black velvet
coated with transmission oil.
They licked
the sweet juices
that seeped
from the petals.
The pollen
was coal dust
and petroleum gas.
Burying their noses,
they sucked
in deep breaths,
eating
the smell,
great bliss.

They discovered the fruit
hidden beneath the leaves,
overripe mangoes
with sticky eggplant skin,
hung like testicles;
and inside the fruit
was rotting meat,
like liver.
The special people
got their faces
into the stinking slime,
and really got into it;
inhaling with their lips,
and teeth,
and tongues.
They licked and drank
the thick red juice.
The seeds,
like cabochon rubies,
seemed particularly potent,
and were chewed
with great delight.

The fruit contained
the five wisdoms.
The men and women
became luminous,
their skin was golden
and their bodies,
almost transparent,
were clothed in shimmering
rainbow lights.

They became sleepy,
yawned, and curled up
under the tree,
and a took a nap.
While they slept,
music filled the air.
Lounging
against the gnarled tree trunk
and protruding roots,
their huge bodies
colored red, yellow,
blue, green, white,
rested in
great equanimity,
and radiated
huge compassion.

Inside the tree
were the secret homes
of many demi-gods,
hungry ghosts,
and earth spirits,
who were very pleased
with all the positive attention
being paid them.
After years of abuse
mutilation
and destruction,
they were thrilled;
even though, they were being ravaged
and their flowers
wrecked.

At the root endings,
there were jewels,
diamonds and emeralds and rubies,
which were stars in the sky
of the world below.

The beautiful men and women
woke up,
and nibbled on the leaves, again;
They ate the leaves,
like deer,
pausing between bites,
looking up
at the vast
empty sky.
The leaves and fruit
increased their clarity
and bliss,
and introduced the nature
of primordially pure
wisdom mind.

                                                                                                   2001

© John Giorno / Published by permission of the author
From: Subduing Demons in America: Selected Poems 1962-2007
New York: Soft Skull Press, 2008
Audio production: 2008 Literaturwerkstatt Berlin

Translations:

Language: german

ES WAR DA MAL EIN SCHLECHTER BAUM

Es war da mal ein schlechter
Baum,
den die Leute
hassten.
Die Blätter verbreiteten
einen fauligen
Geruch,
und die Blüten
hatten einen bitteren
Gestank.
Wer zu nahe kam,
musste sich übergeben.
Die Früchte
waren Gift,
ein Bissen
und du warst tot.

Alle fanden ihn
ausgesprochen unangenehm.
Der schlechte Baum
stank.
Sie sprachen
ständig darüber
und beschlossen,
ihn zu fällen.
Ihn loswerden.
Sie hackten
mit Äxten
und ritzten ihn kaum;
unter Atemschutzmasken
droschen sie auf ihn ein,
und droschen auf ihn ein,
und kratzten und hobelten.
Öliges Puder
von den glänzenden dunkelgrünen Blättern
gelangte auf ihre Haut,
machte Pusteln
und juckte fürchterlich;
und sie kratzten sich
blutrot.

Sie legten
Schutzausrüstung an,
mit Sauerstoffflaschen,
und gingen auf ihn los mit
elektrischen Kettensägen
und schwerem Gerät.
Sie arbeiteten in 24-Stunden-Schichten,
und endlich war der Baum gefällt.

Alle waren sehr froh
und feierten
den großen Sieg,
Eine edle Tat, gut gemacht;
und sie gingen erschöpft ins Bett.
Am nächsten Morgen
war der schlechte Baum
nachgewachsen,
war aufgeschossen,
neu und größer
und noch schöner
und hässlich.

Es war sehr entmutigend.
Sie redeten eine Menge darüber
und fällten ihn noch einmal,
und gossen Benzin auf die Wurzeln
und verbrannten alle Blätter und Äste
in einem großen Feuer.
Nachdem die schwelende Glut
abgekühlt war,
wuchs der Baum nach,
größer,
noch schlechter,
und wirklich prachtvoll.

Andere Leute
hatten zugesehen,
von ihren Häusern aus,
auf ihren Moment gewartet.
Sie hielten sich für
schlauer,
mit höheren intellektuellen
Fähigkeiten,
sie wussten, wie
man den Baum los wird.
Es war ein sprießendes Gewächs,
ein Baum aus Holz,
der in der Erde wuchs.

Sie äscherten ihn ein,
brannten die Wurzeln aus,
mit Chemikalien,
ätzenden Säuren
und Roboterlasern;
sie sprengten
am Boden,
bombardierten
aus der Luft,
trafen
mit intelligenten Raketen
und schossen
mit Strahlen.
Sie entfesselten
einen Feuersturm
und bedeckten den Boden
mit Beton
und Stahl.

Der Baum wuchs nach,
noch frischer,
noch eleganter, sogar anmutig;
und wirklich hässlich.
Das Holz war
härter,
dunkler,
noch glänzender,
dicker heißer Muskel;
und die Blätter,
voll und üppig,
bewegten sich wie Unterwasserpflanzen
ausladend im Wind.

Alle waren höchst deprimiert,
äußerst entmutigt.
Es war eine Katastrophe.
Sie hatten sich selbst
eine Höllenwelt geschaffen.

Sie sprachen pausenlos darüber
und trafen eine große Entscheidung.
Der Bürgermeister trat zurück,
in Schimpf und Schande;
die, die so hart
gearbeitet hatten,
verschwanden
erniedrigt,
reisten ab,
zogen ans andere Ende der Stadt,
blieben weg.

Dann, aus dem Nichts, erschienen
diese schönen Leute.
Sie waren einfach
und bescheiden,
ein bisschen wie Pfauen,
und sichtlich gutmütig,
und hatten ausgesprochen Sinn für Humor.
Strahlend gelassen,
überströmend von
liebevoller Freundlichkeit
gingen sie geradewegs darauf zu
und fingen an, die Blätter
zu essen.
Sie aßen die Blätter
mit Behagen,
wurden fröhlich
und lachten
und lachten;
und mampften mehr von den Blättern.
Man sah deutlich, sie mochten
den Geschmack wirklich.

Sie drückten
ihre Wangen
an die Blüten,
schwarzer Samt,
überzogen mit Getriebeöl.
Sie leckten
die süßen Säfte,
die von den Stempeln
tropften.
Die Pollen
waren Kohlenstaub
und Erdgas.
Sie vergruben ihre Nasen
und sogen
in tiefen Zügen ein,
aßen
den Geruch,
große Seligkeit.

Sie entdeckten die Frucht,
versteckt unter den Blättern,
überreife Mangos
mit klebriger Auberginenhaut,
aufgehängt wie Hoden;
und in der Frucht
war verderbendes Fleisch,
wie Leber.
Die besonderen Leute
steckten das Gesicht
in den stinkenden Schleim,
und fanden richtig Lust daran;
sie schlangen mit ihren Lippen
und Zähnen
und Zungen.
Sie leckten und tranken
den zähen roten Saft.
Die Samen,
wie naturpolierte Rubine,
schienen besonders gehaltvoll
und wurden gekaut
mit großem Vergnügen.

Die Frucht enthielt
die fünf Weisheiten.
Die Männer und Frauen
begannen zu leuchten,
ihre Haut wurde golden,
und ihre Körper,
fast durchsichtig,
waren gekleidet in schimmerndes
Regenbogenlicht.

Sie wurden dösig,
gähnten und rollten sich zusammen
unter dem Baum
und hielten ein Schläfchen.
Während sie schliefen,
erfüllte Musik die Luft.
Ihre gewaltigen Körper,
rot, gelb, blau,
grün und weiß gefärbt,
lehnten
an dem knorrigen Stamm
und den hervortretenden Wurzeln,
ruhten in
großem Gleichmut
und strahlten
gewaltiges Mitgefühl aus.

Im Innern des Baumes
waren die Wohnungen
vieler Halbgötter,
hungriger Seelen
und Erdgeister,
die hoch erfreut waren
über all die positive Aufmerksamkeit,
die ihnen geschenkt wurde.
Nach Jahren der Misshandlung,
Verstümmlung
und Zerstörung
waren sie begeistert,
auch wenn sie gerade gefleddert
und ihre Blüten
vernichtet wurden.

An den Wurzelspitzen
hingen Juwelen,
Diamanten, Smaragde und Rubine,
die waren Sterne am Himmel
der Welt darunter.

Die schönen Männer und Frauen
wachten auf
und knabberten weiter an den Blättern;
sie aßen die Blätter
wie Rehe,
hielten zwischen den Bissen inne
und sahen auf
zu dem weiten
leeren Himmel.
Die Blätter und Früchte
ließen ihre Klarheit wachsen,
und ihre Seligkeit,
und machten mit dem Wesen
des ursprünglich reinen
Geistes der Weisheit bekannt.

                                                                                                   2001

Aus dem Amerikanischen von Thomas Marquard
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John Giorno

photo © gezett.de
* 04.12.1936, New York City, United States
† 11.10.2019, New York City, United States

John Giorno, born in New York in 1936, was a highly innovative and influential figure; with a career spanning over 50 years, he is often considered to be one of the originators of Performance Poetry.

A key figure in the Factory art scene, John Giorno was a friend and contemporary of many of the most significant 1960s writers and artists, including Ginsberg, Rauschenberg and Jasper Johns, and was the subject of Andy Warhol’s experimental 1963 film Sleep.

 photo © gezett.de
In 1965 he founded the artist collective and record label Giorno Poetry Systems, which pioneered multimedia poetry, releasing over forty poetry LPs and CDs, as well as videos of live performances, by artists such as William Burroughs, John Ashbery, Patti Smith, Philip Glass and Laurie Anderson. Giorno also initiated the 1968 communication experiment Dial-A-Poem, which allowed callers to dial a number and listen to a recording of a live poetry performance. These innovative uses of modern technology brought poetry to new audiences, and were influential on later poetic movements, such as Spoken Word and Slam Poetry.

Giorno was also a pioneering Aids campaigner, and om 1984 founded the Aids Treatment Project, an organization which was effective in raising the public’s awareness of Aids long before it became an issue often addressed in public.

John Giorno’s latest book was the anthology, Subduing Demons in America: Selected Poems 1962-2007, published in 2008.

John Giorno died of a heart attack at age 82 on October 11, 2019, at his home in Lower Manhattan..

Publications
  • Poems by John Giorno

    New York: Mother Press, 1967

  • Johnny Guitar

    New York: Angel Hair Books (today United Artists Books), 1969

  • Balling Buddha

    New York: Kulchur Foundation, 1970

  • Birds

    New York: Angel Hair Books (today United Artists Books), 1971

  • Cancer in my left ball: Poems, 1970-1972

    New York: Something Else Press, 1973

  • Shit, Piss, Blood & Brains

    Philadelphia: The Painted Bride Press, 1977

  • Grasping at emptiness

    New York: Kulchur Foundation, 1985

  • Du Musst Brennen Um Zu Strahlen

    [Deutsch]

    Berlin: Stop Over Press, 1985

  • You Got to Burn to Shine: New and Selected Writings

    New York: Serpent's Tail Publishing Ltd, 1993

  • Jeder wird leichter

    [englisch-deutsch]

    Berlin: Stadtlichter Presse, 2007

  • Subduing Demons in America: Selected Poems 1962-2007

    New York: Soft Skull Press, 2008

Links
  • John Giorno @ PennSound

    incl. the two 'S Press' tapes: Johnny Guitar (1969–1972) + Balling Buddha (1975)

    Website
  • John Giorno @ UbuWeb

    Mp3s of John Giorno's early work, including Giorno Poetry Systems and Dial-A-Poem

    Website (en)
  • John Giorno @ Wikipedia

    Website (en)

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