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I don't do anything with my life except romanticize and decay with indecision.

Allen Ginsberg

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Allen Ginsberg
Age: 70 †
Born: 1926
Born: June 3
Died: 1997
Died: April 5
Autobiographer
Diarist
Musician
Photographer
Playwright
Poet
Screenwriter
Teacher
Writer
Paterson
New Jersey
Irwin Allen Ginsberg
Ayālena Gīnasabārga
Alen Ginzberg
Decay
Except
Anything
Life
Romanticize
Indecision

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Naked in solitary prison cell he looks down at a hard-on.
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The typewriter is holy the poem is holy the voice is holy the hearers are holy the ecstacy is holy!
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We love to be hurt and we love to have our unhealing wounds opened and reopened again: we sit staring in the mirror of art, fascinated by our own deformities.
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The closet door is open for me, where I left it, since I left it open, it has graciously stayed open.
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Whoever controls the media, the images, controls the culture.
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I think it was when I ran into Kerouac and Burroughs - when I was 17 - that I realized I was talking through an empty skull... I wasn't thinking my own thoughts or saying my own thoughts.
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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.
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My books piled up before me for my use waiting in space where I placed them, they haven't disappeared, time's left its remnants and qualities for me to use -- my words piled up, my texts, my manuscripts, my loves.
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Follow your inner moonlight don't hide the madness.
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I learned a world from each / one whom I loved
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…we’re all beautiful golden sunflowers inside, we’re all blessed by our own seed & golden hairy naked accomplishment (Sunflower Sutra)
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Night is the wonderful opportunity to take rest, to forgive, to smile, to get ready for all the battles that you have to fight tomorrow.
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Many seek and never see, anyone can tell them why. O they weep and O they cry and never take until they try unless they try it in their sleep and never some until they die. I ask many, they ask me. This is a great mystery.
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Concentrate on what you want to say to yourself and your friends. Follow your inner moonlight don't hide the madness. You say what you want to say when you don't care who's listening.
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in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night
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The real America that Whitman proclaimed and Thoreau decoded.
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I am learning by the week, but my poesy is still not my own. New rhyme, new me me me in words. I am not all this carven rhetoric.
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I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the supermarket and feel absurd.
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