Beat this

A poem by Gregory Corso, one of the writers of the Beat Generation. I list this poem among the foremost in my list of 100 best poems. Also, you just have to love a generation that made blue jeans cool and spawned the likes of Kerouac and Ginsberg. Or did they spawn the generation?

The Whole Mess... Almost

I ran up six flights of stairs
to my small furnished room
opened the window
and began throwing out
those things most important in life

First to go, Truth, squealing like a fink;
"Don't! I'll tell awful things about you!"
"Oh yeah? Well, I've nothing to hide... OUT!"
Then went God, glowering and whimpering in amazement:
"It's not my fault! I'm not the cause of it all!" "OUT!"
Then Love, cooing bribes: "You'll never know impotency!
All the girls of Vogue covers, all yours!"
I pushed her fat ass out and screamed:
"You always end up a bummer!"
I picked up Faith Hope Charity
all three clinging together:
"Without us you'll surely die!"
"With you I'm going nuts! Goodbye!"

Then Beauty...ah, Beauty-
As I led her to the window
I told her: "You I loved best in life
...but you're a killer; Beauty kills!"
Not really meaning to drop her
I immediately ran downstairs
getting there just in time to catch her
"You saved me!" she cried
I put her down and told her: "Move on."

Went back up those six flights
went to the money
there was no money to throw out
The only thing left in the room was Death
hiding behind the kitchen sink:
"I'm not real!" It cried
"I'm just a rumour spread by life..."
Laughing I threw it out, kitchen sink and all
and suddenly realized Humour
was all that was left-
All I could do with Humour was to say:
"Out the window with the window!"