Howl, Kaddish and Other Poems

by Allen Ginsberg

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,

My national resources consist of two joints of marijuana millions of genitals an unpublishable private literature that goes 1400 miles an hour and twenty-five-thousand mental institutions.

And you’re out, Death let you out, Death had the Mercy, you’re done with your century, done with God, done with the path thru it—Done with yourself at last

Nobody publishes a word that is not the cowardly robot ravings of a depraved mentality

fortunately all the governments will fall the only ones which won’t fall are the good ones and the good ones don’t yet exist

Relax and die— The process will repeat itself Be Born! Be Born! Back to the same old smiling dentist

want to know what happens after I rot because I’m already rotting my hair’s falling out I’ve got a belly I’m sick of sex my ass drags in the universe I know too much and not enough

man is half trash all trash in the grave