Lana Del Rey – Tropico poetry
“I sing the body electric, The armies of those I love engirth me and I engirth them, They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them, And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the soul”. – Walt Whitman (I sing the body electric)
“Womanhood, and all that is a woman, and the man that comes from woman,
The womb, the teats, nipples, breast-milk, tears, laughter, weeping, love-looks, love-perturbations and risings,
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 sunburnt 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!” – Walt Whitman (I sing the body electric)
“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,
angelheaded 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 Arkan- sas 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” - Allen Ginsberg (Howl)
“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
Into 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 soul’s final fate
Some poets call it the entrance to the underworld
But on some summer nights, it could feel like Paradise
Paradise lost” - Lana Del Rey
“You ask me Why I Lover Her? Well, give me time and I’ll explain.
Have you see 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 FranciscoBay?
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 the 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 Plymouth’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?
You ask me Why I Love Her? I’ve a million reasons why:
My Beautiful America, beneath God’s wide, wide sky”. - John Wayne (America, Why I Love Her)