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.

– Allen Ginsberg –

Ph : Carney Malone

with my fucking suave manners and knowitall, eyes, and mind full of fantasy – the me! that horror that keeps me conscious, in this hell of birth & death

– Allen Ginsberg – Reality Sandwiches

Ph : Charlotte Rampling & Richard Burton by Hulton Archive

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the xxxxx 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.

– Allen Ginsberg – Howl

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the xxxxx 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.

– Allen Ginsberg – Howl