Quotes from Allen Ginsberg

I shudder, I see the love, I'm doomed, my heart melts again — can't stand not to be in love, can't stand not to be melting with real tenderness, childlike need sweetnesses, that's what's wrong with me.

we're all beautiful golden sunflowers inside, we're all blessed by our own seed & golden hairy naked accomplishment (Sunflower Sutra)

Strange now to think of you, gone without corsets & eyes, while I walk on the sunny pavement of Greenwich Village. downtown Manhattan, clear winter noon, and I've been up all night, talking, talking, reading the Kaddish aloud, listening to Ray Charles blues shout blind on the phonograph

YOUR NAME IS WRITTEN IN HEAVEN

Naked in solitary prison cell he looks down at a hard-on.

Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night

Scientist alone is true poet.

senseless, senseless coughs of emotion

Mind is shapely, Art is shapely.

Earth pollution identical with Mind pollution, consciousness Pollution identical with filthy sky

Inside skull vast as outside skull

I do not wish to escape to myself, I wish to escape from myself. I wish to obliterate my consciousness and my knowledge of independent existence, my guilts, my secretiveness.

one must verge on the unknown, write toward the truth hitherto unrecognizable of one's own sincerity, including the avoidable beauty of doom, shame, and embarrassment, that very area of personal self-recognition,(detailed individual is universal remember) which formal conventions, internalized, keep us from discovering in ourselves and others

Trees scream and drop bright leaves

Thank God I am not God! Thank God I am not God!

I'm an old man now, and a lonesome man in Kansas / but not afraid / to speak my lonesomeness in a car, / because not only my lonesomeness / it's Ours, all over America, / O tender fellows --/ & spoken lonesomeness is Prophecy / in the moon 100 years ago or in / the middle of Kansas now.

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical, naked... who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war... who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall... who wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts...

who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded and loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes

America why are your libraries full of tears?

The madman bum and angel beat in time with the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years

You were right, I suppose, in keeping your distance. I was too intent on self-fulfillment, and rather crude about it, with all my harlequinade and conscious manipulation of your pity.

Soul identical to each to each... look in my eyes and speak to yourself, that makes me everybody's lover

salute the new sunset

What Patriot wrote that shit?