My Sad Self

No, I am not sad. No, I will not commit suicide, although after reading this poem, anyone could. My Sad Self, written by Allen Ginsberg, is a poem about loneliness it a city full of people.

The character in the poem seems to take the elevator to the top of a building to look down upon everyone and is apparently depressed. The poem showed a small glimmer of hope. Instead of committing suicide, the character goes back down the elevator in the middle of the poem. Although depressed and alone, he gets out and is able to go back into the city. When walking around the streets the character realizes that he is people watching but that nobody watches him. Nobody cares. He remembers past lovers he has lost while describing the noisy streets.

After reading the Sunflower Sutra this poem is kind of a let down. When read aloud it felt choppy and hard, or maybe I was just reading it wrong. I don't really suggest anyone should read this poem if they don't have to. Instead, check out the Sunflower Sutra.

Sunflower Sutra

The Sunflower Sutra, a poem created by Allen Ginsberg, talks of the writer finding a sunflower that is covered in a pollution caused by mankind. Although there is a sexual (possibly gay) as well as nature versus industrialism, I will focus mainly on what I first observed.

The sunflower represents hope. It represents a soul covered up by grime and pollution. Although dirty and gray, the sunflower stands up against the mechanical junk lying around it and tries to shine. The writer tells the flower not to forget what it really is, that, although surrounded by filth and even at times covered by it, it is a sunflower.

Another example of this is when you looks into the mirror. What do you see? Do you see the extra weight you're carrying? The fine lines of age starting to appear around your eyes and the thinning of your hair as it lies flat and lifeless, no longer vibrant.

But what about inside?

You are still a sunflower. Bright and full of joy. Surrounded by impurities of others, destruction of others, and grime of others. Even your thoughts have tried to cover the sunflower like ashes. Slowly dulling it's color. But it's still there. You are still you. You are still a sunflower.