America I used to be a communist when I was a kid and I'm not sorry.

Many seek and never see, anyone can tell them why. O they weep and O they cry and never take until they try unless they try it in their sleep and never some until they die. I ask many, they ask me. This is a great mystery.

Unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O my soul, I loved you then!

he threw up his hands and wrote the Universe dont exist and died to prove it

who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism

It's time we did something to assert ourselves. After all, we do comprise 10% of the population.

No monster vibration, no snake universe hallucinations. Many tiny jeweled violet flowers along the path of a living brook that looked like Blake's illustration for a canal in grassy Eden: huge Pacific watery shore, Orlovsky dancing naked like Shiva long-haired before giant green waves, titanic cliffs that Wordsworth mentioned in his own Sublime, great yellow sun veiled with mist hanging over the planet's oceanic horizon. No harm.