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Kral Majales chords by Allen Ginsberg

  • F

  • Gm

    3
  • G

  • Eb

    6
Verse 1
F
Gm
Kral Mayales.
May 7th, 1965.
Back to work.
G
On DOA plane leaving Prague airport.
Gm
Rainy day.
G
And the ship whistling has
begun the ascent.
And the communists
have nothing to offer
but fat cheeks and eyeglasses
Gm
and lying policemen.
G
And the capitalists proffer
napalm and money
in green suitcases to the naked. it.
And the communists create heavy industry,
but the heart is also heavy.
And the beautiful engineers are all
dead.
The secret technicians
now conspire for their own glamour,
in the future, in the future,
but now drink vodka
and lament the security forces.
And the capitalists drink gin and whiskey
on airplanes,
F
but let Indian brown millions starve and
G
murder whom they can in Vietnam.
And when communist
and capitalist assholes tangle,
the just man is arrested
or robbed
or had his head cut off,
G
but not like Indian Saint Kabir.
And the cigarette cough
of the just man above the clouds
in the bright sunshine is a salute
to the health of the blue sky.
Four, I was arrested thrice in Prague,
once for singing drunk on Narodny Street,
once knocked down on the midnight
pavement
by a moustached agent
who screamed out, BUSERANT!
Eb
Once for losing my notebooks
G
of unusual sex politics
dream opinions,
and I was sent from Havana by plane
by detectives in green uniform
and I was sent from Prague by plane
by detectives in Czechoslovakian
business suits
like card players out of Cezanne
like the two strange dolls
that entered Joseph K's
room at morn
also entered mine
and ate at my table
and examined my scribbles
and followed me night and morn
from the houses of lovers
to the cafes of centrum.
And I am the King of May,
which is the power of sexual youth.
G
And I am the King of May,
which is industry in eloquence
and action in amour.
And I am the King of May,
which is the long hair of Adam
and the beard of my own body.
And I am the King of May,
which is kraal mayales
in the Czechoslovakian tongue.
And I am the King of May,
which is old human poesy,
and 100 ,000 people chose my name.
And I am the King of May,
and in a few minutes
I will land at London Airport.
And I am the King of May
naturally,
F
for I am of Slavic parentage
G
and a Buddhist Jew
who worships the sacred heart of Christ,
the blue body of Krishna,
the straight back of Ram,
the beads of Chango,
F
the Nigerian,
G
singing Shiva, Shiva,
in a manner which I have invented.
And the King of May
is a Middle European honor,
mine in the twentieth century,
despite spaceships and the time machine,
because I heard the voice
of Blake in a vision
and repeat that voice.
And I am the King of May
that sleeps with teenagers laughing.
And I am the King of May,
and I am the King of May
that I may be expelled from my kingdom with honor as
G
of old to show the difference
between Caesar's kingdom
and the kingdom of the May of man.
And I am the King of May, though paranoid
For the kingdom of May
F
is too beautiful
G
To last for more than a month
And I am the King of May
Because I touched
my finger to my forehead
Saluting a luminous,
heavy girl on LSD
With trembling hands who said
One moment, Mr. Ginsburg
Before a fat,
young plainclothesman
Stepped between our bodies
I was being shoved off to England
And I am the King of May
F
Returning to see Blake's bones
G
on Bunheal Fields
and walk as Keith on Amstead East.
And I am the King of May
F
in a giant jet plane
G
touching Albion's airfield,
F
trembling in fear as the plane roars
to a landing on the great concrete,
shakes and expels air,
G
and rolls slowly to a
stop under the clouds
where the part of blue heaven still visible.
And though I am the King of May,
the Marxists have beat me
upon the street,
kept me up all night in police station,
followed me through springtime Prague,
detained me in secret,
stolen my poems,
and deported me from our kingdom by jet plane,
thus I have written this poem
on a jet seat in mid -heaven.
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