Tatyana_v_727_:
why do we have poetry ? because this world needs another form of healing besides alcohol to exist
Tatyana_v_727_:
You too must seek the sun... Allen Ginsberg, Howl and Other Poems
Tatyana_v_727_:
Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.Allen Ginsberg
Tatyana_v_727_:
4 AM Blues
Tatyana_v_727_:
inspiration for my tired self (and hopefully others)
Tatyana_v_727_:
inspiration for my tired self (and hopefully others)
Tatyana_v_727_:
lights out- fall, hands a-clasped, into instantaneous ecstasy like a shot of heroin or morphine, the gland inside of my brain discharging the good glad fluid (Holy Fluid) as i hap-down and hold all my body parts Jack Kerouac
Tatyana_v_727_:
be kind to yourself - Allen Ginsberg
Tatyana_v_727_:
who to be kind to - Allen Ginsberg (Part 2)
Tatyana_v_727_:
your chair is empty
Tatyana_v_727_:
pictures of the gone world
Tatyana_v_727_:
What came is gone forever every time Allen Ginsberg, Kaddish and Other Poems
Tatyana_v_727_:
in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on / the highway across America in tears to the door of my / cottage in the Western night San Francisco, 1955—1956 Howl, Allen Ginsberg
Tatyana_v_727_:
Beat’s free rhythm burn on . . .
Tatyana_v_727_:
“And I realize that no matter where I am, whether in a little room full of thought, or in this endless universe of stars and mountains, it’s all in my mind.”Jack Kerouac, Lonesome Traveler
Tatyana_v_727_:
I may regret many things in life but being a spontaneous freak is not one of them
Tatyana_v_727_:
Half read books, and bold declarations./There was so much I didn't believe in/And then, there was you./You made me brave,/You made me stupid/Gave me this skin, that I could move in.
Tatyana_v_727_:
Poetry is made of night-thought. Poetry is a book of light at night. Poetry is a pure parallel universe. Lawrence Ferlinghetti
Tatyana_v_727_:
I wept to understand / The trap mortality / And personal blood of earth Jack Kerouac
Tatyana_v_727_:
There is in fact something obscene and sinister about photography, a desire to imprison, to incorporate, a sexual intensity of pursuit. William S. Burroughs
Tatyana_v_727_:
the night is the poetry; it can ignite passion & rekindle the flame
Tatyana_v_727_:
Eager for bread and love. Jack Kerouac, On the Road
Tatyana_v_727_:
“The poignancy of the photograph comes from looking back to a fleeting moment in a floating world. The transitoriness is what creates the sense of the sacred.” Allen Ginsberg
Tatyana_v_727_:
See eternity, not the other night, but tonight Lawrence Ferlinghetti (March 24, 1919)
Tatyana_v_727_:
In the U.S. you have to be a deviant or die of boredom. William Burroughs
Tatyana_v_727_:
i dreamed of fall today / of rain and rain boots / and i was happy that the summer was over
Tatyana_v_727_:
love never gets old…
Tatyana_v_727_:
my weak spot 🇮🇹♥️
Tatyana_v_727_:
Road to San Francisco
Tatyana_v_727_:
Hotel Emblem (San Francisco)
