Who Be Kind To

Who Be Kind To easy guitar chords by Allen Ginsberg

N/A
Guitar
Tuning

E A D G B E

Capo

Fret 1

Capo

Transpose

0

Capo
  • Gm

    3
  • G

  • F

  • D

  • C

  • Em

  • Eb

    6
  • Bb

  • F#m

    2
  • Gm

    3
  • G

  • F

  • D

  • C

  • Em

  • Eb

    6
  • Bb

  • F#m

    2
  • Verse 1
    Gm

    Who be kind to?

    Who be kind to?

    Be kind to yourself, only one,

    and perishable of many on the planet.
    G

    Thou art that one that wishes

    a soft finger
    Gm

    tracing the line of feel

    ing from nipple to pubis.
    F
    Gm

    One that wishes a tongue

    to kiss your armpit,
    G

    a lip to kiss your cheek
    D
    C

    inside your whiteness thigh
    G

    Be kind to yourself, Harry,

    because unkindness comes

    when the body explodes

    Napalm, cancer, and the deathbed in Vietnam is
    F
    G

    a strange place to dream of trees leaning over

    and angry American faces grinning with

    sleepwalk terror over your last eye

    Be kind to yourself
    F

    because the bliss of your own kindness
    G

    will flood the police tomorrow
    F

    Because the cow weeps in the field
    G
    Em
    G

    and the mouse weeps in the cat hole
    F
    G

    Be kind to this place

    which is your present habitation

    With Derek and radar tower

    and flower in the ancient brook

    Be kind to your neighbor

    who weeps solid tears

    on the television sofa

    He has no other home

    and hears nothing
    C

    but the hard voice of telephones. Click. Bzzz.
    G

    Switch channel and the inspired melodrama

    disappears and he's left

    alone for the night.

    He disappears in bed.

    Be kind to your disappearing

    mother and father

    gazing out the terrace window
    G

    as milk truck and hearse turn the corner.

    Be kind to the politician
    D
    Eb
    G
    Em
    G
    F

    weeping in the galleries of Whitehall, Kremlin, White House, Louvre, Phoenix City,
    G
    Bb
    G

    aged, large -nosed, angry, nervously dialing the bold voice box

    connected to electrodes

    underground

    converging through wires vaster

    than a kitten's eye can see on

    the mushroom -shaped fear lobe
    F
    G

    under the ear of the sleeping Dr. Einstein,
    F#m

    crawling with worms,

    crawling with worms,
    G

    crawling with worms.

    The hour has come.

    Sick, dissatisfied, unloved,

    the bulky foreheads of Captain, Premier,

    President, Sir, Comrade, fear.
    D

    Be kind to the fearful one at your

    side

    who's remembering
    G

    the lamentations of the Bible

    and the prophecies of the crucified Adam,

    son of all the porters
    C
    G

    and charred men of Belgravia.
    Em

    Be kind to yourself
    G

    who weep under the
    D

    Moscow moon
    C
    G

    and hide your bliss hairs under rain
    C
    G

    coat and suede Levi's,
    C
    G

    for this is a joy to be born.

    The kindness received through strange

    eyeglasses

    on a bus through Kensington,

    the finger touch of the Londoner on your thumb
    C

    that borrows light from your cigarette,
    G

    the smile of morning at Newcastle

    Central Station
    D

    when long -haired Tom Blonde husband

    greets the bearded stranger of telephones,
    G
    F

    the boom -bomb that bounces
    G

    in the joyful bowels

    as the Liverpool minstrels of Cavernsink

    raise up their joyful voices

    and guitars in electric Afric.
    D
    G

    Hurrah for Jerusalem.

    The saints come marching in.

    Twist and shout and gates of Eden
    Em

    are named in Albion again.
    G

    Hope sings a black psalm from Nigeria

    and a white psalm echoes in Detroit

    and re -echoes amplified from

    Nottingham to Prague
    Eb
    G

    and a Chinese psalm will be heard
    G

    if we all live our lives out

    for the next six decades.

    Be kind to the Chinese psalm

    in the red transistor in your breast.

    Be kind to Monk Thelonious

    in the five spot

    who plays lone chord
    D

    bangs on his vast piano
    G

    lost in space on a stool

    and hearing himself

    in this nightclub universe.

    Be kind to the heroes

    who have lost their names

    in the newspaper

    And hear only their own

    supplication

    for the peaceful kiss of sex
    D

    in the giant auditoriums of the planet
    G

    Nameless voices crying
    D

    for kindness

    in the orchestra
    G

    Screaming in anguish that bliss come true
    F

    And sparrows sing another
    G

    hundred years

    to white -haired babes

    and poets be fools of their own desire.

    Oh, Anacreon and Angelic Shelley,
    D

    guide these new -nippled generations
    G

    on spaceships

    to Mars' next universe.
    D
    G

    The prayer is to man and girl,

    the only gods,

    the only lords of kingdoms of feeling,

    Christs of their own living ribs.
    D

    Bicycle chain and machine gun,
    Em
    D
    G

    fear, sneer, and smell cold logic
    C
    G
    D

    of the dream bomb have come to Saigon,
    G
    Eb

    Johannesburg, Dominica City, Phnom Penh,
    G

    Pentagon, Paris, and Lhasa.

    Ah, be kind to the universe of self
    F

    that trembles and shudders and thrills
    G

    in twentieth century,

    that opens its eyes and belly and breast
    C
    G

    chained with flesh
    D
    G

    to feel the myriad flowers of bliss
    Eb
    Gm
    G

    that I am to thee a dream, a dream.
    F

    I don't want to be alone.
    G

    I want to know that I am loved.
    C
    Bb

    I want the orgy of our flesh,
    G
    C
    F

    orgy of all eyes happy,
    C
    G

    orgy of the soul kissing
    C
    G

    and blessing its mortal grown body,

    orgy of tenderness beneath the neck,
    D

    orgy of kindness to thigh and vagina.
    G

    Desire given with meat,

    hand, and cock.

    Desire taken with mouth and ass.
    G

    Desire returned to the last sigh.

    Be kind to the poor soul

    that cries in a crack of the pavement

    because he has no body.

    Prayers to the ghosts and demons,

    the lacklustres of capitals and

    congresses
    G

    who make sadistic noises on

    the radio.

    ...statue destroyers and

    tank captains,

    unhappy murderers in Mekong

    and Stanleyville.

    For a new kind of man has

    come to his bliss.

    To end the Cold War,

    he has borne against his own kind flesh

    since the days of the snake."

    Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

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