sunset on the bayou

America - Why I Love Her by John Wayne

You ask me why I love her? Well, give me time and I’ll explain.
Have you seen a Kansas sunset or an Arizona rain?
Have you drifted on a bayou down Louisiana way?
Have you watched a cold fog drifting over San Francisco Bay?
Have you heard a bobwhite calling in the Carolina pines,
Or heard the bellow of a diesel at the Appalachia mines?
Does the call of Niagara thrill you when you hear her waters roar?
Do you look with awe and wonder at her Massachusetts shore,
Where men who braved a hard new world first stepped on Plymounth’s rock?
And do you think of them when you stroll along a new York City dock?
Have you seen a snowflake drifting in the Rockies, way up high?
Have you seen the sun come blazing down from a bright Nevada sky?
Do you hail to the Columbia as she rushes to the sea,
Or bow your head at Gettysburg at our struggle to be free?
Have you seen the mighty Tetons? Have you watched an eagle soar?
Have you see the Mississippi roll along Missouri’s shore?
Have you felt a chill at Michigan when on a winter’s day
Her waters rage along the shore in thunderous display?
Does the word “Aloha” make you warm? Do you stare in disbelief
When you see the surf come roaring in at Waimea Reef?
From Alaska’s cold to the Everglades, from the Rio Grande to Maine,
My heart cries out, my pulse runs fast at the might of her domain.
You ask me why I love her? I’ve a million reasons why:
My Beautiful America, beneath God’s wide, wide sky.

Lana Del Rey - Tropico

Body Electric

I sing the Body electric;

The armies of those I love engirt me, and I engirt them;

They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them, (Man you’ve got to be crazy!)

And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the Soul. 

Womanhood, and all that is woman - and the man that comes from woman,

The womb, the tits, nipples, breast-milk, tears, laughter, weeping, love-looks, love-perturbations and rising, 

The voice, articulation, language, whispering, shouting aloud,

Food, drink, pulse, digestion, sweat, sleep, walking, swimming,

Poise on the hips, leaping, reclining, embracing, arm-curving and tightening,

The continual changes of the flex of the mouth, and around the eyes,

The skin, the sun-burnt shade, freckles, hair,

The curious sympathy one feels, when feeling with the hand the naked meat of the body,

The circling rivers, the breath, and breathing it in and out, 

The beauty of the waist, and thence of the hips, and thence downward toward the knees,

The thin red jellies within you or within me - the bones and the marrow in the bones,

The exquisite realization of health;

O I say, these are not the parts and poems of the Body only, but of the Soul, 

O I say now these are the Soul!

Gods and Monsters

- “You know it’s not always gonna be this way, right?”

- “Yeah..”

- “So just chill, alright?”

- “Mhmm”

- “Alright..”

- “Yeah." 

(Just remember, I’m always there for you.)

(Dialog Birthday Party w/ Strippers)

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,

dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,

angel-headed hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,

who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,

who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,

who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war,

who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,

who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall,

who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,

who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night

with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares

(Robbery)

And so, from being created in his likeness, to being banished for wanting to be too much like him, we were cast out, and the garden of Eden transformed in to the garden of Evil.

Los Angeles, The city of Angels, A land of Gods and Monsters, The in-between realm where only the choices made from your free will, will decide your souls final fate.

Some poets called it the entrance to the Underworld, but on some summer nights, it could feel like Paradise, Paradise Lost.

(Praying)

(You ask me why I love her? Well give me time, I’ll explain.

   Have you ever seen a Kansas sunset or an Arizona rain? 

   Have you ever drifted on a bayou down Louisiana way?

   Or watched a cold fog come drifting in over San Francisco Bay?

   Have you heard a bobwhite calling in the Carolina pines,

   Or heard the bellow of a diesel at the Appalachia mines?

   Does the call of Niagara thrill you when you hear her waters roar?

   Or do you look with awe and wonder, Massachusetts shore, 

   Brave new men who stepped on Plymounth’s rock?

   And do you think of them when you stroll along a New York City dock?

   Have you seen a snowflake drifting in the Rockies, way up high?

   Or seen the sun come blazing down from a bright Nevada sky?

   Do you hail to the Columbia as she rushes to the sea,

   Or bow your head at Gettysburg at our struggle to be free?

   You ask me why I love her? I’ve got a million reasons why:

   It’s my beautiful America, beneath God’s wide, wide sky. 

   - John Wayne)

Bel Air