Gregory Nunzio Corsowas an American poet, youngest of the inner circle of Beat Generation writers... (wikipedia)
I just trust people and they sense everything's gonna be alright.
The other guy I dug a lot was Burroughs because he was a smart man already; he learned it through the druggie pool - the street scene of an old aristocratic kind of man.
The judge said I was a menace to society because I had put crime on a scientific basis.
The lucky thing was that I was Italian; when the other Italians saw me fight back, they came to my defence.
Now, twenty years old, I come out and I go back to Greenwich Village. Now, of course, I'm a wealthy man.
You see, I went to the sixth grade and that was the highest I ever went.
Anyway, I lived on the streets and did pretty good until I got caught stealing, what was it? I kicked in a restaurant window, went in and took all the food that I wanted, and while coming out I was grabbed.
Now the Tombs, like the name says, are so horrible that they had to close it down. Today it doesn't exist and people go in the electric chair and all that.
I was what? - twelve years old - and I was thrown in the cells with these people, so I learned fast.
My father took me back home, back to Greenwich Village, and he thought by taking me out of the orphanage he'd be out of the World War too. But no way - they got him anyway. He went in the Navy and then I lived on the streets.
My background did not start with the East Side; it started with Greenwich Village, which is West Side.
I remember the people I knew in prison; I was very fortunate to know them - they came from 1910, 1920, 1930.
My father went into the armed service and I never saw my mother - I don't know what happened to her.
I moved up over Lower East Side and I was adopted by eight foster parents; I lived all over New York City with these parents, man, till I was about ten years old.
They, that unnamed "they," they've knocked me down but I got up. I always get up-and I swear when I went down quite often I took the fall; nothing moves a mountain but itself. They, I've long ago named them me.
a fat Reichian wife screeching over potatoes Get a job! And five nose running brats in love with Batman
O how terrible it must be for a young man-- seated before a family and the family thinking We never saw him before! He wants our Mary Lou! After tea and homemade cookies they ask What do you do for a living
I feel I want to be wise with white hair in a tall library in a deep chair by a fireplace.
But when the conquered spirit breaks free And indicates a new light Who'll take care of the cats?
I learned life were no dream I learned truth deceived Man is not God Life is a century Death an instant
I think of New York City lost in stars forgotten as a blue haired pet of childhood love Tonight the night is full;
it's just that I see love as odd as wearing shoes-- I never wanted to marry a girl who was like my mother And Ingrid Bergman was always impossible
The fall of man stands a lie before Beethoven, a truth before Hitler.
Spirit is Life. It flows thru the death of me endlessly like a river unafraid of becoming the sea.
Ah, if I were dictator I'd have poets throwing bombs!
They, that unnamed they, they've knocked me down but I got up. I always get up -- and I swear when I went down quite often I took the fall; nothing moves a mountain but itself. They, I've long ago named them me.
If you believe you're a poet, then you're saved.
I feel capitol punishment is dooming U.S.A.
If you have a choice of two things and can't decide, take both.
Standing on a street corner waiting for no one is power.
It is a great feeling to know that from a window I can go to books to cans of beer to past loves. And from these gather enough dream to sneak out a back door.