- Share this article on Facebook
- Share this article on Twitter
- Share this article on Email
- Show additional share options
- Share this article on Print
- Share this article on Comment
- Share this article on Whatsapp
- Share this article on Linkedin
- Share this article on Reddit
- Share this article on Pinit
- Share this article on Tumblr
Allen Ginsberg first performed his epic poem “Howl” at the Six Gallery in San Francisco on October 7th, 1955. A year later, the collection Howl and Other Poems, published by Laurence Ferlinghetti of City Lights Books, immediately became the subject of an obscenity trial.
Some 55 years after that, James Franco reenacted much of it for the silver screen in the movie Howl and the damning, sardonic prose was no less impactful (see clip from the film below).
Ultimately deemed not obscene by the honorable Judge Clayton W. Horn, Ginsberg’s tome has since become one of the most famous poems of the Beat Generation — and a telling one in light of recent events surrounding the News of the World hacking scandal; The haunting second section in particular, which pertains to the ancient Semitic deity Moloch.
What happens when you substitute (Rupert) Murdoch for Moloch? The results are downright creepy. Judge for yourself…
Murdoch! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars!
Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old
men weeping in the parks!
Murdoch! Murdoch! Nightmare of Murdoch! Murdoch the loveless!
Mental Murdoch! Murdoch the heavy judger of men!
Murdoch the incomprehensible prison! Murdoch the crossbone soulless
jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Murdoch whose buildings are
judgment! Murdoch the vast stone of war! Murdoch the stunned
Murdoch whose mind is pure machinery! Murdoch whose blood is running money!
Murdoch whose fingers are ten armies! Murdoch whose breast is a
cannibal dynamo! Murdoch whose ear is a smoking tomb!
Murdoch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Murdoch whose skyscraper
stand in the long streets like endless Jehovahs! Murdoch whose
factories dream and croak in the fog! Murdoch whose smoke-stacks and
antennae crown the cities!
Murdoch whose love is endless oil and stone! Murdoch whose soul is
electricity and banks! Murdoch whose poverty is the specter of genius!
Murdoch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Murdoch whose name
is the Mind!
Sign up for THR news straight to your inbox every day