Allen Ginsberg Quotes

Not even the human
imagination satisfies
the endless emptiness of the soul.

Steak swallowers zonked on Television!

Absolutes are Coercion.
Change is absolute.

Song
Allen Ginsberg

The weight of the world
is love.
Under the burden
of solitude,
under the burden
of dissatisfaction

the weight,
the weight we carry
is love.

Who can deny?
In dreams
it touches
the body,
in thought
constructs
a miracle,
in imagination
anguishes
till born
in human — looks out of the heart
burning with purity — for the burden of life
is love,

but we carry the weight
wearily,
and so must rest
in the arms of love
at last,
must rest in the arms
of love.

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 too heavy — must give
for no return
as thought
is given
in solitude
in all the excellence
of its excess.

The warm bodies
shine together
in the darkness,
the hand moves
to the center
of the flesh,
the skin trembles
in happiness
and the soul comes
joyful to the eye — **
yes, yes,
that’s what
I wanted,
I always wanted,
I always wanted,
to return
to the body
where I was born.

No more to say, and nothing to weep for

Inside skull vast as outside skull

Sanity - a trick of agreement

Assuming I am mad (Ha!) god, how I must have suffered to go mad. And all the time I was calling to people to save me and no one put out his hand and held it. This is like suicide, only I am alive and looking out of this living death I can see the people weep and feel sorry. Alas, nobody even weeps. It's all a dream.

I'm with you in Rockland
where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of the actual pingpong of the abyss

with the absolute heart of the poem of life butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years.

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.

Thus, as the Buddha said to a lady who offered him a curse,the gift is returned to the giver when it is not accepted

The hero surviving his own murder, his own suicide, his own addiction, surviving his own disappearance from the scene

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

. . . who were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality. . .