I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness. Starving, hysterical, naked. Dragging themselves through the meager streets at dawn. Looking for an angry fix. Angel headed hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection. Under the starry dynamite and the machinery of the night. Who poverty and tatters all wide and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold water flats, floating across the top of cities, contemplating jazz. Who bared their brains against the heaven under the hell. and some homid angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated. who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes. hallucinating Arkansas with some blank white tragedy among the scholars of war. who were expelled from academies for crazy and publishing obese odes across the windows of the skull, who coward in unshaven rooms in their underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the terror through the wall. who got bust in their public beards returning through the radio with a belt of marijuana for new york. who ate fire in paint hotels drinking turbentine in paradise alley. death or purgatory their torsos night after night, with dreams, with drugs. with waking nightmares.
and so, in being created in his likeness, being vanished for wanting to be too much like him, we were cast out, and the garden of eden transformed into the garden of evil. los angeles, the city of angels, the land of gods and monsters. the inbetween realm, where only the choices made from your free will, will decide your souls final fait. Some poets called it the entrance to the underworld, but on some summer nights, it could feel like paradise. paradise lost."