We're all golden sunflowers inside.
If I had a soul I sold itfor pretty wordsIf I had a body I usedit up spurting my essenceAllen Ginsberg warns you
I write poetry because I want to be alone and want to talk to people.
Hairy Mammal whaddya want
Eat Eat said the sign
I really believe, or want to believe, really I am nuts, otherwise I'll never be sane.
With my fucking suave manners and knowitall, eyes, and mind full of fantasy - the Me! that horror that keeps me conscious, in this Hell of Birth & Death
Which way will the sunflower turn surrounded by millions of suns?
What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?-
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...
I know I'm not God, are you? Don't be silly.God? God? Everybody's God? Don't be silly.
Holy time in eternity holy eternity in time holy the clocks in space holy the fourth dimension holy the fifth International holy the Angel in Moloch!Holy the sea holy the desert holy the railroad holy...
He saw that I was shy, and at the time I was still scared of feeling with another person, so he put his arm around me and pulled me and put my head on his breast and gave me love actually.
Poetry is the one place where people can speak their original human mind. It is the outlet for people to say in public what is known in private.
Sometime I’ll lay down my wrath, As I lay my body down Between the ache of breath and breath, Golden slumber in the bone.
No rest without love, no sleep without dreams of love- be mad or chill obsessed with angels or machines, the final wish is love -cannot be bitter, cannot deny,cannot withhold if denied: the weight is...
Naked in solitary prison cell he looks down at a hard-on.
We the People - shelling the Vietcong
Thank God I am not God! Thank God I am not God!
Steak swallowers zonked on Television!