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
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?"
- "So just chill, alright?"
(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
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
(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)