My office gave me a computer so I could work from home (during the Covid crisis)
They also gave me a work phone as my job entails taking calls from the public,
It's strange but I've been doin' this job for years
And I've always had this stammer... this funny stammer
Yet luckily I've always been able to get by
I've never let it bother me that much
But now though, since working from home I'd noticed my stammer was getting progressively worse
Maybe it was all the isolation, the lack of interaction with others
But I found myself struggling with words/sounds that had never bothered me before
It was beginning to become a real worry
What was I gonna do !!!
So I started to take a drink or two, a couple of glasses of wine along with a can (or two) of beer
And listen to some music on my own phone
Hoping it would relax me more
Sometimes it'd work, sometimes... sometimes not
But then one day... one day Lana del Rey came into my life
Yea! I discovered the songs and music of Lana del Rey
What a voice and the things she could do with it, it seemed so effortless
What an Enchantress
She'd transport me off to some other world faraway
So between work calls, in the gaps in-between
I'd have her songs on and be watching her videos on YouTube
I used lose myself in her world
Now I didn't care anymore about work or phone calls or whether I stammered or not
Suddenly I was Mr. Cool driving down a motorway in LA with my sunglasses on in my Chevy Malibu
Or maybe hanging out, chilling with Lana's crew
(maybe on a thirteenth beach somewhere)
And when she'd be singing something melancholy, something blue
I'd be there comforting her saying  "I know Lana, I understand, sure Me! I'm a King of Melancholy too".

Well one Friday I was feeling kinda happy and good about life
I'd survived another week in the job and had a long weekend to look forward to as I had Monday off
And yes! I'd had a few drinks as well and was away again lost in Lana land
I had her songs on and a video was playing
Suddenly I felt I needed to go for a ***
So I put Lana on hold saying "Excuse me Lana"
But then... just then my work phone rings, there's someone on the line,
I say to myself I better take this call
I'll get rid of him quick (famous last words)
I don't know if this guy was lonely or just liked the sound of my voice
But I just could not get him off the phone
Sometimes the phone calls they'd remind me  of the old Air Aces back in World War I
In their biplanes, shooting at one another, those dogfights in the sky
(They should have had us wearing bomber jackets)
But if this guy was an Air Ace, then he was the Red Baron
I couldn't shake him, just couldn't get him off my tail, could not get him off the phone
He's like... he's like feckin Columbo (the detective off the TV)
It's like he's finished, he's just going out the door
But then he turns around and comes back with another question
"Can I ask you...this...
Can I ask you...that...
Would you mind answering this question...
Just one more thing...
Just one more question....
One last question....
One final question...
You're very good, can I ask you....
Sorry for taking up all your time but can I ask you....
You're very knowledgeable, it's great to get someone you can talk to, so you're saying....
Is that the way it works, can I ask you..."
At this stage I'm bustin' to go to the loo
It's getting to emergency stations, my poor bladder
What am I going to do!!!
Should I excuse myself and tell him I've got to go to the loo
But that's not very professional, I'd never ever done that before
Anyway I'm thinking I have no other alternative
But then suddenly... suddenly I spy this empty bottle on my shelf
It's an unusual bottle with thick glass and it has this lovely wooden capped cork which can be easily pulled out and put back in again
(I kept it 'cos I thought it might come in handy if I had a corked bottle of wine
And the cork got messed up with the corkscrew
I could put any surplus wine in there)
So I'm looking at this bottle and... I have an idea
"Desperate situations call for desperate measures", I think
"You gotta do what you gotta do,
And of course, their always saying you should be creative and innovative in your work"
So I take down the bottle, tell Lana to avert her eyes
I take out the cork, unzip the fly of my pants
Get my Old Boy out and start peeing into the bottle
I'm mightily relieved and I'm thinking Ha! Ha!
Go on you ****** ask me another question, I don't care now....I'm free!!!
I'm proud of myself "What a Pro !" I'm thinking,
The next thing a whole lot of *** comes flying out of the bottle, like a bottle of champagne gushing out
Shooting out all over the place, all over my pants and my shirt
I'd miscalculated the amount of *** and the size of the bottle
I never knew I peed that much (well you learn something new everyday)
And the guy is still talking to me on the phone
And all I'm thinking is "Jaysus I'm after peeing all over myself"
And finally... finally, at long...looong... looooong last the guy, he gets off the phone, halleluia!!!
I'm left there completely deflated, soaked in my own ***
Broken and disconsolate, all my illusions shattered
No longer am I Mr.Cool driving down a motorway in LA
No longer am I either Mr. All-understanding Melancholy Guru Man
No! Now I'm just... just some guy whose after peeing all over himself
I look at my phone and there's Lana looking back at me, still on hold
I switch her on again, she's singing that lovely song "Love"
She does that lovely little shimmy with her shoulders for a second
Then she gives me that cute little wink and the lovely smile
I think to myself "Well, at least Lana still likes me"
But I feel guilty, I feel I got to explain, got to apologise
"Sorry Lana", I say, "I guess...I guess they don't make heroes like they used to".

Then I start to think 'This working from home is really fraught with danger, lucky there's no cameras on these computers or they'd be saying "I don't believe what I've just seen, what's that feckin' eejit doing now"

But then I think "Still, the customer went away happy, I didn't let it faze me too much, I saw it through... me and my funny stammer...what a Pro!
Maybe I was... maybe I am...a hero after all.

She's like a Lana Del Rey Song
Beautiful, deep, and once it gets stuck in your head - you can't get it out

She's beautiful in more ways than one, maybe it's her personality or it's the way her hair falls past her shoulders or maybe it's the way she looks at you with those eyes. Oh Those eyes that makes your heart race because you know they're on you. Those eyes you wish you could wake up to them in the morning. You find her actions cute and maybe that's another reason why you think she's beautiful. The way she calls you an ******* when you tease her the fact that you and her can have a cute playful relationship. Her giggle her laugh it's so beautiful, you can't help but to smile when you hear it probably because it's so rare to hear. She's beautiful because she is someone that you find interesting and interesting people are hard to come by now a days. Her soul though - you find the most beautiful. The type of person she is. What makes her so beautiful? You think to yourself - it's everything literally everything and you understand she may not understand but you do and well that's enough because you'll make her understand it. You want her to see herself the way you see her.

She's deep in oh so many ways, she writes poetry and reads literature. She's intelligent and it's like a breath of fresh air. When you speak to her even though it maybe about nothing at all so much is being spoken - it's not just in one ear and out the other words it's actual conversation. Those words, her words stick to you. You want to discuss the world with her and her views on life. You want to listen to anything and everything she has to say as she smokes her cigarette. You want to see the world through her eyes even if it's just for a moment. You want to know everything you can about her, the good as well as the bad. You want to know the person she is, you want to know what goes on in her head. Is there a war in her mind like yours? Or is her mind peaceful? She is the exact opposite of you, yet you and her are the same. Would that make sense to her if you tried to explain it? Eh you hope so. Then again would you even explain it to her? Probably not because you'll probably never share this with her for the soul reason of being too afraid to share your thoughts on someone like her to her. You're also too afraid she won't feel the same way, and that scares you.

Then again just like a Lana Del Rey song she can be dark and it's not her fault and she can't help it. But do you care she has a dark side and messing with her is like playing Russian roulette? No in fact - you want to play. You want to take that chance, you think her imperfections make her absolutely perfect. You want to hold her in your arms, you want to push her against the wall and make out with her. You want to prove to her that not all people will **** her over, that there are people YOU who want to give her everything even the things she never knew she wanted until she had them. Others have just let her walk out of their life's like she was nothing. You think to yourself, you would never do that because you are not an ******* like the rest. You want to prove to her that she matters in more ways than one. You want to prove to her that she's worth every ounce of energy you can muster up. Most importantly though - if she left, if she ever wanted to leave would you let her walk out of your life just as easy as all the rest? No you would put up a fight to make her stay, even if that meant getting on a plane immediately to go be with her to tell her she's being ridiculous as you kiss her deeply to clam her down.

She's get stuck in your head and you won't be able to get her out, and you know what? That's okay because just like a Lana Del Rey song those lyrics so hauntingly beautiful you want her in your head. You want to think about what she's doing and if she's thinking about you at that very second. You think about the possibilities of you crossing her mind and if you do does she smile? You sure do hope so. You often wonder what it would be like to kiss her lips and feel her small frame against yours, it's probably pure bliss you think to yourself. You want to kiss her passionately to Burning Desire because for some reason that songs speaks to you about her, and grab her hips holding her close to Gods & Monsters because it's the first Lana song she sang to you and in some way that song is our song. However maybe it's just our song to me, although hopefully it is to her. But you want this and you want that, you can only hope she wants the same. Please want the same you think to yourself. You also wonder what it would be like to drag your teeth against her skin and kiss every inch of her body, yeah I'm sure it's complete bliss. You want her, you want her.

She's like a Lana Del Rey song that's so hauntingly beautiful that you want to leave on repeat.

-soc

Rey del Lana
Her beauty is bright,
She sings like a nightingale
Who hasn't experienced fright.
Tall and radiant as if in a 60's movie
She sings about the other woman
Pity she doesn't know who is she.
Lana del Rey is like the daughter of a god. She is everything that a girl would be , to have to trod.
Lana is a fiery beacon in a land of gods and monsters, she rides when there is a war in her mind.
Marilyn her mother is happy about her baby, Whitman her dad has made her a poet. Lana del Rey, where would I be without you? I'm happy your life experiences have made me better. I'm glad I can celebrate the day with you.
Let's drink some wine and feel the blues, Lana den Rey, imagine if I were I your shoes....!

I hope I don’t see anyone I know
I need to be high to enjoy the show
It’s wearing off can we please go?
Come back to my place we’ll snort some blow

One day it dawned on Lana:
Some physical “flaws” seemed more dominant.
Rivers of wrinkles crisscrossed her face,
And the bump on her nose looked more prominent.
“This just won’t do,” she said to herself.
“Good looks are SO in demand.
I’ve got to see Dr. Slicestitch before
All of this gets out of hand.”
 
The doctor, after examining Lana,
Made a few helpful suggestions:
“I have the perfect plan for you.
Just stop me to ask any questions.
Let’s start with a major skin resurfacing
To get rid of wrinkles and spots.
We’ll do a slice here, a little slice there,
And then we will start with the shots.
Collagen and Botox injections
Will follow your mid-face lift.
Rhinoplasty will flatten your nose.
But we can’t give your ***** short shrift.
If you’re looking at breast enlargement,
We can give you an impressive rack—
Unless reduction is more beneficial
To somewhat relieve that pain in your back.
We’ll lift your eyelids, raise your cheekbones,
And put an implant in your chin.
We’ll thicken your lips and pull back your neck
To allow you to have the tightest of skin.
There's sclerotherapy for varicose veins;
My accuracy is really uncanny.
And a little more work in the lower area
Will give great form to your flat *****.
Liposuction on your thighs and belly
Would, I think, be very smart.
Plus laser treatment for unwanted hair.
All this should be a great START.”
 
You should see Lana now;
Stop by to kindly surprise her.
You’ll be astonished by her new look,
Although you won’t recognize her.
Her face is so tight that she can’t smile;
Her translucent skin is pale and waxen.
Her chin protrudes and her nose is flat.
She’ll remind you of Michael Jackson.
It almost seems as though she can’t blink;
If she could, I’d be amazed.
The look on her face is the look of a woman
Perpetually shocked or crazed.
Regarding her *******, she went with large
Instead of doing the breast reduction.
Her ******* might turn heads, but not
The loose skin from her liposuction.
Yes, she’s got new shape to her bottom,
But now especially she must beware:
Since she is so heavy on top,
It makes it hard to sit on a chair.
Since she’s started all this work,
Frequent adjustments will be needed
To fine tune areas that would get messy
If they're left entirely unheeded.
 
A major overhaul on a car
Works well on an old Model T.
The human body is more problematic;
The outcome has no guarantee.
A little adjustment here and there
Is fine if it’s done quite tastefully.
But many people like the idea
Of growing old gracefully.
Lana received a complete transformation;
Of options she was presented with plenty.
It’s just that it’s strange when someone looks
Seventy going on twenty.

- by Bob B

Her face, flawless and filtered, flows over
my chest, ribs, stomach, hips, fitting the curved
mounds of my body, and even within simplicity
of thread and dye, I sense her presence as her face
hangs from my frame, a statement louder than pillow-lips,
Nancy Sinatra-hair and a glamorous 60’s ***** face.

When paired with leggings and an artfully-distressed denim jacket,
I become a member of the “freshman generation of degenerate
beauty queens,” a hipster fallen to the circumstance of youth,
but I wear her face and the romance of it all reminds me:
we are not defined as Lolitas lost in the hood, or distant,
airy voices in a sea of crude jokes and half-baked skits

meant to highlight shortcomings of a person who doesn’t give
two *****. Lana fits me better than my ribbed, red
sweater and even amidst gods and monsters,
this T-shirt makes pretty last, and I am just as cool.

Lana Del Rey
Your voice is like ice cream
I feel like I can taste
all the emotions you belt
Forgive me for this
but Lana, Lana del rey
why are so easy to love?

when i write
i always find myself wishing that i wrote like Lana del Rey,
making even the simple things seem extraordinarily grand, to be able to glamorize what is sometimes a painfully normal life
i want to touch someone's skin
and write about it in a way that makes someone feel as though they're touching velvet
i want the kiss we shared
to linger on someone's lips like the taste of their favorite chapstick
i want to write about love
so that in turn someone will lust for what i already have
i want to write about my years of pain and isolation in a way that makes someone want to rip their own heart out and offer it up to me on a platter made of shimmering, sterling silver
which, of course
i'd have to refuse
because what would a writer be if surrounded by love and admiration they knew was real, that they didn't doubt for even a second
although, the sensuality of the circumstance might be tempting
an artist without eternal, incessant suffering
is merely a wolf in sheep's clothing
or a fool who thinks he's a king
they simply aren't built to last

i want to write about my mid-night thoughts and for someone to think: Lana would be proud

I will love you even when you're no longer young and beautiful as Lana del Rey once asked.

I will love you even when we are working our ***** off the pay bills we shouldn't have. I will love you when you can't wipe your own **** and when you're grumpy and old.

I will love you when you hate me and tell me I drive you crazy.

When the passing sun and moon go right on by... I will still smile and think how I've loved you all the while.

When the earth stops rotating and our world starts to end... I will remember the days we shared together.

But just remember I will love you when you're no longer young and beautiful.

"And then taking from his wallet
an old schedule of trains, he'll say
I told you when I came I was a stranger
I told you when I came I was a stranger."
                                        --- Leonard Cohen

I'm the most surprised person on the planet.
Your coming to see me off at the airport
has my mind scratching glass seeking words.
Why is it that in this relationship,
you seem to have gotten all the speaking parts?
You're well aware that I have loved you
for the better part of two years,
bottling that emotion, afraid to pop the cork.
Your eyes implore mine, rotating like
a searchlight over Baghdad seeking
the stealth laying carnage to your heart.
Twice in the last week you've made it evident,
the Grail was mine, but for the drinking ---
That and finding a shorthand for adultry.
I'm guilty courting the love of a married woman,
made worse, you're here at my departure
telling me we aren't free to choose who we love.
I know my desire must die of thirst,
so I turn, boarding pass in hand,
the last words I ever hear from you,
Write me! --- Thirty-five years later I have.