Our Heads Are Round So Thought Can

Scientist Alone Is True Poet He Gives Us The Moon He Promises The Stars He'll Make Us A New Universe If It Comes To That.

I Saw The Best Minds Of My Generation Destroyed By Madness, Starving Hysterical Naked, Dragging Themselves Through The Negro Streets At Dawn Looking For An Angry Fix Angelheaded Hipsters Burning For The Ancient Heavenly Connection To The Starry Dynamo In The Machinery Of The Night.

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.

It Means Abandoning Being A Poet, Abandoning Your Careerism, Abandoning Even The Idea Of Writing Any Poetry, Really Abandoning, Giving Up As Hopeless - Abandoning The Possibility Of Really Expressing Yourself To The Nations Of The World. Abandoning The Idea Of Being A Prophet With Honor And Dignity, And Abandoning The Glory Of Poetry And Just Settling Down In The Muck Of Your Own Mindyou Really Have To Make A Resolution To Write For Yourself, In The Sense Of Not Writing To Impress Yourself, But Just Writing What Your Self Is Saying.

Who Burned Cigarette Holes In Their Arms Protesting The Narcotic Tobacco Haze Of Capitalism