Jean-Louis Lebris de Kerouac

JACK   Ti-Jean

giovane scrittore si firmava john  kerouac


in fede....Jack Kerouac









We should be wondering tonight,  ' Is there a world ? '      But I could go and talk on 5, 10, 20 minutes about is there a world, because there is really no world cause sometimes I’m walkin’ on the ground and I see right through the ground.  And there is no world. And you’ll find out.

is there a beat generation ? - forum at hunter college - new york - 8 november 1958


Tangier 1957
.   War, he thought .    Our nation has plunged it's mighty sinews into war  .
.   My generation,  he whispered is making the sacrifice .   It is suffering .   Only through suffering does one learn love and fulfillment .    I believe I am correct in saying so .    My generation,  my world is not lost .
my generation my world 1943  -   fb/beatpoemsontheroad
Then we sailed down into the Irish Sea, laid anchor off Belfast, waited there for some British convoy boats and crossed the Irish Sea that afternoon and night straight for Liverpool. 1943.  
The year the Beatles were born there, ha ha ha.

vanity of duluoz -
My eyes were glued on life and they were full of tears
i miei occhi erano incollati sulla vita. Ed erano pieni di lacrime
The page is long,  blank,  and full of truth
When I am through with it, it shall probably be long,  full,  and empty with words
atop an underwood: early stories and other writings
The beauty of things must be that they end
I'll go to the south of Sicily in the winter and paint memories of Arles - I'll buy a piano and Mozart me that - I'll write long sad tales about people in the legend of my life - This part is my part of the movie, let's hear yours
Così io separo le mie frasi come se fossero respiri diversi della mente
paris review - interview  1968
... that's how i therefore separate my sentences, as breath separations of the mind

grandi bevute & feste
con piano - natale
venuto e andato

big drinkling & piano
parties - christmas
come and gone

A scene should be selected by the writer for haunted-ness-of-mind interest .
If you're not haunted by something, as by a dream, a vision, or a memory, which are involuntary, you're not interested or even involved
book of sketches 1952-57

being crazy is
the least of my worries

essere pazzo è
la minore delle mie preoccupazion

Ce n'è ancora, di strada
big sur



The sight of the canyon down there as we
renegotiated the mountain road made me bite
my lip with marvel and sadness

big sur



It’ll take you eternities to get rid of me,’ she adds sadly, which makes me jealous, I want her to say I’ll never get rid of her – I wanta be chased till eternity till I catch her.

big sur



I feel guilty for being a member
of the human race

big sur  1962


- Se non mi do una mossa subito

sono spacciato -
mi dico, spacciato come

negli ultimi tre anni

di disperazione ubriaca

una disperazione fisica

e spirituale e metafisica

che non si può imparare a scuola

per quanti libri si leggano

sull'esistenzialismo o sul pessimismo
big sur - pag 8 - books/google



Se non scrivo quello che vedo effettivamente accadere su questo globo infelice racchiuso nei contorni del mio teschio penserò che il povero Dio mi abbia mandato sulla terra per niente  .


il mare non parlava per frasi ma per versi
big sur


Si può sempre andare oltre


– non si finisce mai


Ho un sacco di soldi e i soldi sono solo soldi  .


I started to cry .    And I looked up and saw the bleak pines by the bleak mills of Roanoke Rapids with one final despair, like the despair of a man who has nothing left to do but leave the earth forever .


Everything is going to the beat - It's the beat generation, it be-at, it's the beat to keep, it's the beat of the heart, it's being beat and down in the world and like oldtime lowdown and like in ancient civilizations the slave boatmen rowing galleys to a beat and servants spinning pottery to a beat ...
I had a Chet Baker record on and we hoofed at each other in the room, tremendous, the perfect grace of his dancing, casual, like Joe Louis casually hoofing .
Black black black black bling bling bling bling black black black black bling bling bling bling black black black black bling bling bling
jk - desolation angels


Tieni duro Jack, passa attraverso tutte le cose, e tutte le cose sono un solo sogno, una sola immagine, un solo baleno, un solo occhio triste, un solo lucido mostro di cristallo, una sola parola - Tieniti forte, amico, ritrova il tuo amore per la vita e scendi giù da questa montagna e semplicemente sii - sii - sii le infinite fertilità dell'unica mente infinita, non formulare commenti, lagnanze, critiche, lodi, ammissioni massime, meteore di pensiero, semplicemente scorri, scorri, sii tutto, sii ciò che è, e solo quello che sempre è .
angeli della desolazione - 1965 - libro I  parte I -  desolazione nella solitudine - trad. m.corona

Ero una volta giovane e aggiornato e lucido e sapevo parlare di tutto con nervosa intelligenza e con chiarezza e senza far tanti retorici preamboli come faccio ora; in altre parole questa è la storia di uno sfiduciato che non è più padrone di sé e insieme la storia di un egomaniaco, per costituzione e non per facezia  -  questo tanto per cominciare dal principio con ordine ed enucleare la verità, perché è proprio questo che voglio fare.   -  Cominciò una calda notte d'estate, sì, con lei seduta su un parafango quando Julien Alexander che sarebbe... Ma cominciamo dalla storia dei sotterranei di San Francisco .
i sotterranei 1992

Thinking of the stars night after night I begin to realize  ' The stars are words '  and all the innumerable worlds in the Milky Way are words, and so is this world too .    And I realize that no matter where I am, whether in a little room full of thought or in this endless universe of stars and mountains, it’s all in my mind  .
No man should go through life without once experiencing healthy,  even bored solitude in the wilderness,  finding himself depending solely on himself and thereby learning his true and hidden strength .    Learning for instance,  to eat when he’s hungry and sleep when he’s sleepy .

lonesome traveler

se Gesù sedesse alla mia scrivania questa notte, guardando fuori dalla finestra, tutta quella gente che ride felice per l’inizio delle vacanze estive, forse sorriderebbe e ringrazierebbe suo Padre.   Non lo so.    La gente deve 'vivere', eppure so che soltanto Gesù conosce la risposta definitiva .
come mai non hai mai scritto di Gesù? chiede Ted Berrigan  in un’intervista di un anno prima della sua morte. 
Io non avrei scritto nulla di Gesù? Non venirtene a casa mia a fare il pazzo bugiardo … e …
tutto ciò su cui scrivo è Gesù .
la civiltà cattolica - il dio di jk -  pag 126 - 20.1.2007


Sono cambiato io e non il vuoto

e ho fatto tutto questo

e sono andato e venuto

e mi sono lamentato e ferito

e ho gioito e urlato

angeli di desolazione


Scoppieranno guerre per gli occhi delle donne



so shut up, live, travel, adventure, bless

and don't be sorry

 angeli di desolazione


Happy .    Just in my swim shorts, barefooted, wild-haired, in the red fire dark, singing, swigging wine, spitting, jumping, running - that's the way to live .      All alone and free in the soft sands of the beach by the sigh of the sea out there, with the Ma-Wink fallopian virgin warm stars reflecting on the outer channel fluid belly waters .    And if your cans are redhot and you can't hold them in your hands, just use good old railroad gloves,  that's all  .

the dharma bums  .

One man practicing kindness

in the wilderness is worth

all the temples this world pulls

One day I will find the right words
and they will
be simple
the dharma bums  .

It was all completely serious
all completely hallucinated
all completely happy
The silence was an intense roar
the dharma bums
A real  h a i k u 's gotta be as simple as porridge and yet make you see the real thing, like the greatest haiku of them all probably is the one that goes 'The sparrow hops along the veranda, with wet feet.' By Shiki .    You see the wet footprints like a vision in your mind and yet in those few words you also see all the rain that's been falling that day and almost smell the wet pine needles   .
the  dharma bums
The world was upsidedown hanging in an ocean of endless space and here were all these people sitting in theatres watching movies.
the dharma bums
Then I suddenly had the most tremendous feeling of the pitifulness of human beings, whatever they were, their faces, pained mouths, personalities, attempts to be gay, little petulances, feelings of loss, their dull and empty witticisms so soon forgotten :   Ah, for what ?    I knew that the sound of silence was everywhere and therefore everything everywhere was silence .    Suppose we suddenly wake up and see that what we thought to be this and that, ain't this and that at all? I staggered up the hill, greeted by birds, and looked at all the huddled sleeping figures on the floor. Who were all these strange ghosts rooted to the silly little adventure of earth with me  ? And who was I ?
the dharma bums  .

Meglio dormire libero in un letto scomodo

che dormire prigioniero in un letto comodo
better to sleep in an uncomfortable bed free

than sleep in a comfortable bed unfree

vedo cio che le porte

- aperte o chiuse -

mi consentono di vedere




Gli uomini mortali non possono odiarsi

possono solo essere colpevoli

 di amare se stessi



sembra che io abbia una costituzione

che non regge l'alcol

e ancor di meno l'idiozia e l'incoerenza







happiness consists in realizing

it is all a great strange dream


the only truth is music






I hope it is true that a man can die and yet not only live in others but give them life and not only life, but that great consciousness of life .



on the road

the road is life


Nothing behind me

everything ahead of me

as is ever so on the road


Soon it got dusk,  a grapy dusk     

a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon fields;   the sun the color of pressed grapes,  slashed with burgandy red,  the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries .


Oh, smell the people !

yelled Dean with his face out the window, sniffing.

Ah, God ! Life !


Emotionlessly she kissed me    

in the vineyard and walked off down the row. We turned at a dozen paces, for love is a duel, and looked up at each other for the last time.


Stavo meravigliosamente bene e il mondo intero mi si apriva davanti

perchè non avevo sogni
I was having a wonderful time and the whole world opened up before me because I had no dreams
All he needed was a wheel in his hand and four on the road
tutto quello di cui aveva bisogno era un volante fra le mani e quattro ruote su una strada

Sure baby, mañana . It was always mañana
For the next few weeks that was all I heard - mañana a lovely word

and one that probably means heaven .


SAL ...


sal, we gotta go and never stop

going 'till we get there

> sal paradise : pseudonimo di jk <

parte III - cap 10



in a good home, in sane and sound living, in good food, good times, work, faith and hope . I have always believed in these things . It was with some amazement that I realized I was one of the few people in the world who really believed in these things without going around making a dull middle class philosophy out of it . I was suddenly left with nothing in my hands but a handful of crazy stars .
The mad road
lonely  leading around the bend into the openings of space towards the horizon Wasatch snows promised us in the vision of the West, spine heights at the world's end, coast of blue Pacific starry night - nobone halfbanana moons sloping in the tangled night sky, the torments of great formations in mist, the huddled invisible insect in the car racing onwards, illuminate. - The raw cut, the drag, the butte, the star, the draw, the sunflower in the grass - orangebutted west lands of Arcadia, forlorn sands of the isolate earth, dewy exposures to infinity in black space, home of the rattlesnake and the gopher the level of the world, low and flat : the charging restless mute unvoiced road keening in a seizure of tarpaulin power into the route .
No matter what you do it's bound to be a waste of time in the end so you might as well go mad .


For the first time in my life

the weather was not something

that touched me that caressed me

froze or sweated me but became me



And for just a moment I had reached the point of ecstasy
that I always wanted to reach, which was the complete step across chronological time into t imeless shadows, and wonderment in the bleakness of the mortal realm, and the sensation of death kicking at my heels to move on, with a phantom dogging its own heels, and myself hurrying to a plank where all the angels dove off and flew into the holy void of uncreated emptiness, the potent and inconceivable radiancies shining in bright Mind Essence, innumerable lotuslands falling open in the magic mothswarm of heaven .
I could hear an indescribable seething roar which wasn't in my ear but everywhere and had nothing to do with sounds .
I realized that I had died and been reborn numberless times but just didn't remember especially because the transitions from life to death and back to life are so ghostly easy, a magical action for naught, like falling asleep and waking up again a million times, the utter casualness and deep ignorance of it .
I realized it was only because of the stability of the intrinsic Mind that these ripples of birth and death took place, like the action of the wind on a sheet of pure, serene, mirror-like water .
I felt sweet, swinging bliss, like a big shot of heroin in the mainline vein; like a gulp of wine late in the afternoon and it makes you shudder; my feet tingled .
I thought I was going to die the very next moment .
But I didn't die ...

about that when all the golden lands ahead of you and all kinds of unforeseen events wait lurking to surprise you and make you glad you're alive to see  ?

Boys and girls in America
have such a sad time together; sophistication demands that they submit to sex immediately without proper preliminary talk. Not courting talk - real straight talk about souls, for life is holy and every moment is precious .
when the sun goes down and I sit on the old broken-down Pier watching the long, long skies over New Jersey and sense all that raw land that rolls in one unbelievable huge bulge over to the west coast, and all of that road going, all the people dreaming in the immensity of it, and in Iowa I know by now the children must be crying in the land where they let the children cry, and tonight the stars'll be out, and don't you know that God is Pooh Bear ? the evening star must be drooping and shedding her sparkler dims on the prairie which is just before the coming of complete night that blesses the earth, darkens all rivers, cups the peaks and folds the final shore in, and nobody, nobody knows what's going to happen to anybody besides the forlorn rags of growing old, I think od Dean Moriarty, I even think of old Dean Moriarty the father we never found, I think of Dean Moriarty .
tremendously excited with life, and though he was a con-man, he was only conniving because he wanted so much to live and to get involved with people who would otherwise pay no attention to him .
Dean took out other pictures

I realized these were all the snapshots which our children would look at someday with wonder, thinking their parents had lived smooth, well-ordered, stabilized-within-the-photo lives and got up in the morning to walk proudly on the sidewalks of life, never dreaming the raggedy madness and riot of our actual lives, or actual night, the hell of it, the senseless nightmare road. All of it inside endless and beginningless emptiness .
I woke up as the sun was reddening

and that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, when I didn’t know who I was–I was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I’d never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds, and I looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn’t know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds. I wasn’t scared, I was just somebody else, some stranger, and my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost.
I was halfway across America, at the dividing line between the East of my youth and the West of my future, and maybe that’s why it happened right there and then, that strange red afternoon.


on the road - the original scroll <<<

A w w w  ! <<<



Tonight   while walking on the waterfront in the angelic streets I suddenly wanted to tell you how wonderful I think you are. Please don't dislike me.    What is the mystery of the world ?    Nobody knows they're angels .    God's angels are ravishing and fooling me .    I saw a whore and an old man in a lunchcart, and God – their faces !    I wondered what God was up to .    In the subway I almost jumped up to yell, "  What was that for ?    What's going on up there  ?   What do you mean by that  ? "   Jesus, Allen, life ain't worth the candle, we all know it, and almost everything is wrong, but there's nothing we can do about it, and living is heaven.
Well, here we are in heaven .   This is what heaven is like.
jack kerouac to   allen ginsberg  <    -   january 13, 1950     -      fb/allenginsberg 2019


Devo essere felice o morire

perché la mia condizione terrena

è piena di una tristezza insostenibile

e io do la colpa a Dio anziché a me stesso
un mondo battuto dal vento - books/google


Tutti gli altri sono assolutamente soddisfatti
della vita così com'è .

Io no
Voglio la pura comprensione e poi la vita così com'è . 
Deciderò io stesso cosa fare della mia vita
anche se brucerò nel provarci

L'erba profuma di caldo e si sfalda nell'aria più fredda, l'oscurità si manifesta su tutta l'immensa giostra del mondo e il bestiame resta lì, ad aspettare la triste notte di nebbia spazzata dal vento, le sirene della baia sottostante e le stelle isolate che brillano fra gli squarci di nebbia a mezzanotte   .


Non ho mai chiesto di essere creato e di nascere così inadatto a una simile realtà. Io chiedo solo, ora che sono vivo e consapevole, l'estasi di cui la mia anima ha bisogno.
mercoledi 12 novembe :
Oh, venti poderosi, che schiantate i rami novembrini! Il placido sole splendente, non toccato dalle furie della terra, abbandona il mondo all'oscurità, al selvaggio oblio e alla notte, mentre gli uomini tremano nei loro cappotti e si affrettano a tornare a casa. Poi le luci di casa scintillano in quelle profondità desolate. Eppure ci sono le stelle! Alte e luccicanti in un firmamento spirituale. Noi cammineremo fra mulinelli di vento, guardando intensamente attraverso le nostre sembianze terrestri, alla ricerca di un improvviso sorriso di intelligenza umana al di là di queste insondabili bellezze. Ora il ruggito della furia di mezzanotte e lo scricchiolio dei cardini e delle finestre, ora l'inverno, ora la comprensione della terra e della nsotra presenza su di essa: questo dramma di enigmi e di doppi fondi, di sofferenze e di tristi gioie, queste cose umane nell'elementare vastità di un mondo battuto dal vento.
stanotte 55 parole. domani giorno libero, altrimenti, con un po' piu' di parole, aggiungerei il nuovo traguardp di 15.000 parole alla settimana.

un mondo battuto dal vento

... non c'era posto dove non si annoiasse e non c'era posto dove andare se non dappertutto - non c'era altro da fare che vagare sotto le stelle - le stelle del west di solito

there was nowhere to go but everywhere so just keep on rolling under the stars

Un dolore mi trafisse il cuore
come succedeva ogni volta che vedevo
una ragazza che mi piaceva
andarsene in direzione opposta alla mia
in questo mondo troppo grande ...
sulla strada

The human bones are but vain lines dawdling
the whole universe a blank mold of stars
dharma bums

Cercate la vostra anima
andate a fiutare il vento
andate via
lontano !
è un amico fallo sognare

My witness is the empty sky
My reward is the perfect blue sky at dawn in the desert
in a bird-resounding riverbottom grove

some of the dharma

la scrittura dell’eternità dorata - 1960
the scripture of the golden eternity - 1960


life is drenched in spirit - it rains spirit - we would suffer were it not so
the word and the way

And what does the rain say at night in a small town, what does the rain have to say ?    Who walks beneath dripping melancholy branches listening to the rain ?    Who is there in the rain’s million-needled blurring splash, listening to the grave music of the rain at night, September rain, September rain, so dark and soft ?    Who is there listening to steady level roaring rain all around, brooding and listening and waiting, in the rain-washed, rain-twinkled dark of night ?
the town and the city

JK once said of the many foreign editions of his novels :
When I'm old, you know what I'm going to do  ?    I'm going to study languages reading these


Non usare il telefono
La gente non è mai pronta a rispondere
Usa la poesia


Don't use the phone
People are never ready to answer it
Use poetry

Don't tell them too much about your soul - They're waiting for just that
windblown world - the journals of jk 1947-1954
I'm throwing away something that I can't even find in the incredible clutter of my being
Offer them what they secretly want and they of course immediately become panic-stricken

forse la vita è questo … un battito di ciglia e stelle ammiccanti
maybe that's what life is ... a wink of the eye and winking stars






While he is best known for his novels, Kerouac is also noted for his poetry written during the Beat movement. Kerouac stated that he wanted "to be considered as a jazz poet blowing a long blues in an afternoon jazz session on Sunday."
Many of Kerouac's poems follow the style of his free-flowing, uninhibited prose, also incorporating elements of jazz and Buddhism.
Mexico City Blues" a poem published by Kerouac in 1959 is made up of over 200 choruses following the rhythms of jazz music. In much of his poetry, to achieve a jazz-like rhythm, Kerouac made use of the long dash in place of a period. Several excellent examples of this can be seen throughout "Mexico City Blues"


Is Ignorant of its own emptiness
Doesn't like to be reminded of fits


Other well-known poems by Kerouac, such as "Bowery Blues" incorporate jazz rhythm with Buddhist themes of Sangsara, the cycle of life and subsequent death, and Samadhi, the concentration of composing the mind.
Also, following the jazz/blues tradition Kerouac's poetry features repetition and overall themes of the troubles or sense of loss experienced in life.


The story of man
Makes me sick
Inside, outside,
I don't know why
Something so conditional
And all talk
Should hurt me so.
I am hurt
I am scared
I want to live
I want to die
I don't know
Where to turn
In the Void
And when
To cut


Questo mondo non ha tracce, segni o evidenza
di esistenza,   né rumori, come
l’accidente del vento o le voci o gli animali raglianti

eppure ascolta attento l’eterno ssst del silenzio
che va avanti durante tutto questo  ed è andato
avanti da prima  e durerà ancora e ancora


Voglio essere considerato

un poeta jazz
che suona un lungo blues

in una jam session
d'una domenica pomeriggio

Colgo 242 strofe  -  i miei pensieri cambiano e a volte rotolano tra strofa e strofa o dalla metà dell’una a quella della successiva .

nota in  mexico city blues - 242 choruses -  1959


- I want to be considered a jazz poet blowing a long blues in an afternoon jam session on Sunday.   I take 242 choruses; my ideas vary and sometimes roll from chorus to chorus or from halfway through a chorus to halfway into the next - jk
Kerouac calls himself a jazz poet.

There is no doubt about his great sensitivity to language. His sentences frequently move into tempestuous sweeps and whorls and sometimes they have something of the rich music of Gerard Manley Hopkins of Dylan Thomas.
allen ginsberg  - the new york herald tribune  -  mexico city blues


A Natale mi portarono

una cassetta giocattolo
dentro e fuori dalla quale
mia sorella Caroline
giocava con eserciti
di biglietti con tristi
figurine di gente in meste
cittadine alla Viennese
corni, orchestrine
in piazza
e nella luce bruna
della cucina mi chiedevo
' Che significa ?  -  mistero dei piccoli
Sono tutti spaventosi come me  ?
Sono tutti spaventati come me  ?
Devono tutti dormire al buio di notte ?

... '
da : i blues di jack kerouac

Tra l’altro, a proposito della mia idiosincrasia nei confronti dei punti c’è la prosa molto sperimentale di October in the Railroad Earth -  scritto con l’intento di riprodurre per tutto il libro il rumore di un treno a vapore che trasporta un centinaio di automobili e un vagone del personale parlante in coda. Era quello il mio modo di scrivere all’epoca e può esserlo ancora se  -  quando scrivo spedito  -  il pensiero è confessionale e puro ed entusiasta della vita che si porta dentro.
E mi creda   Ho passato tutta la mia gioventù a scrivere lentamente fra revisioni  - infinite rielaborazioni e cancellature - al punto che riuscivo a scrivere al massimo una frase al giorno ed era una frase priva di sentimento .    Dannazione  se c’è una cosa che amo dell’arte è proprio il sentimento -  non l’astuzia e la dissimulazione dei sentimenti.

arte della narrazione - the paris review

stencil murale di Flavio Campagna Kampah  in Arte F CK "F CK J CK"
ostello bortolino - viadana - mn  
fb/viadangeles - - 2014

Jack Kerouac Beat Painting

MA*GA  - Gallarate varese   -  attività pittorica e grafica di jK

in mostra dipinti, disegni e fotografie

Come meditare
- luci spente -
autunno, mani strette, in istantanea
estasi come una pera di eroina o morfina.
la ghiandola nel mio cervello secernente
il buon fluido felice
 - Fluido Santo -  allorché
mi ah-bbasso e tengo ogni parte del corpo
giù in trance da puntomorto – Sanando
ogni mio male – tutto cancellando – neppure
resta il brandello di uno
'spero-che-tu' o una
Bolla di Pazzia ma la mente
libera, serena, spensierata.
'Quando arriva
un pensiero spuntando da lontano con la sua
esibita figura d’immagine, lo freghi
lo sfreghi via, lo smonti e si fa
smunto, e il pensiero non viene – e
con gioia comprendi per la prima volta
«Pensare è proprio come non pensare –
Perciò non devo pensare

Here I was at the end of America ... no more land ...
and nowhere to go but back

poveri cuori umani che battono dappertutto
angeli di desolazione

New York Public Library
collezione di manoscritti, fotografie e oggetti appartenuti a famosi scrittori
- If you are looking at, say, Jack Kerouac's lighter or his boots, you're seeing the man, in a sense
NYPL's director of exhibitions Declan Kiely - 

Qual è la tua strada amico ?
 la strada del santo
-  la strada del pazzo
la strada dell'arcobaleno

la strada dell'imbecille
qualsiasi strada
È una strada in tutte le direzioni
per tutti gli uomini in tutti i modi

on the road - IV - cap 1   

What's your road, man? - holyboy road, madman road, rainbow road, guppy road, any road.

It's an anywhere road for anybody anyhow. Where body how?




It was with a great deal of silly relief that these people let us off the car at the corner of 27th and Federal .    Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go .    But no matter, the road is life .
fu con evidente e stupido sollievo che i turisti ci fecero scendere dalla macchina all’angolo tra la 27a e la Federal.    le nostre valigie logore erano di nuovo ammucchiate sul marciapiede;  dovevamo ancora andare lontano.  

ma che importava, la strada è la vita .

on the road


maggio 1968_2018  - 50 anni beat generation

... but the beat characters after 1950 vanished into jails and madhouses
or were shamed into silent conformity
the generation itself was shortlived and small in number

JK - fb/beatpoemsontheroad


jean louis lebris de kerouac

lowell - massachusetts 12 MARZO 1922  

st.petersburg - florida  21 OTTOBRE 1969


mozzo - parcheggiatore - frenatore in una compagnia ferroviaria - benzinaio - lavapiatti - raccoglitore cotone - guardia forestale e notturna - avvistatore di incendi - vagabondo per gli Stati Uniti, si stabilirà prevalentemente a san francisco, patria di tutti gli artisti. con 'on the road' i giovani - beat-generation - troveranno in lui qualcuno in cui rispecchiarsi e che si occuperà sempre di loro. le sue poesie hanno ridato vitalità e movimento alla lingua parlata, seguendo l'onda dei suoni.
le uniche persone per me sono i matti ... quelli che non sbadigliano mai e non dicono mai un luogo comune ...  ma bruciano bruciano bruciano come candele romane gialle e favolose che esplodono come ragni tra le stelle  .  on the road
menestrello del suo tempo  ha ispirato anche bob dylan.  
si autodefiniva  ' poeta jazz '  .
adorava i gatti.
da giovane scrittore si firmava john kerouac .


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