We Are Great Writers On The Same

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

So I Had A Choice Between Going To A Jail Or Going To A Bughouse Like A Nice Young Middle-class Student. So I Chose To Go To A Very Polite Mental Hospital. When I Left Eight Months Later, They Said, 'you Were Never Psychotic. You Were Just An Average Neurotic.'

Because Systems Of Mass Communication Can Communicate Only Officially Acceptable Levels Of Reality, No One Can Know The Extent Of The Secret Unconscious Life. No One In America Can Know What Will Happen. No One Is In Real Control.

I Saw The Best Minds Of My Generation Who Threw Their Watches Off The Roof To Cast Their Ballot For Eternity Outside Of Time, & Alarm Clocks Fell On Their Heads Every Day For The Next Decade.

If I Had A Soul I Sold It For Pretty Words If I Had A Body I Used It Up Spurting My Essence Allen Ginsberg Warns You Dont Follow My Path To Extinction