An unsavory man from Montreal
squatted in dim lit cafes
writing of the pain of love
a charlatan
he was the darker lovely dove
he inhaled the smoke of Satan
he sang to the devils army
purist of evil
his grave a urinal
to be used, over and over
his words knelt like prayers
and rose like knives.
Thinning morals
he possesses zero virtue
just a shadow
of the fires down below
he sings for the child killers
the thieves and robbers of the land
he chants of love, he means rape
for those not of his blend
his wishes burnt under
hidden flames of hostility
He may dress in rags
he may play the victim
in the end though
he will burn your flesh
a sacrifice
then he will call you his fool
he sang for genocide
not for the goyim half wit
Dead, he is dead
angels he will never see
A humbling human crack
in every theological
God v Man
divine spirit v human nature
oppositional relationship
Monotheistic belief
in our sacred past,
religiously fine
but anti-polytheistic hope
desecrating Earth's polyculturally wealthy future,
irreligiously not OK.
Anthropocentric passion
and sacred love pleasure
cognitively and intuitively fine,
but EarthCentric dispassion
and organic life displeasure,
not cognitively or intuitively OK.
WE compassion
good-natured climate conservation
definitely fine,
but THEY dispassion
bad-spirited caste preservation
infinitely not OK
Cracks that whet
shared Light inside.
The screen lit and it spoke to me just when I needed to know
Because my thinking had simply become too slow
It offered me help when other sources weren’t there
But should I have trusted it and without any care
I keyed in my question and asked it for help and advice
Its speedy reply seemed so very clear and precise
I decided to use it and pass it off as my own
So the seeds of my destruction were undoubtedly sown
For those of you tempted to follow a similar track
You must realise there is no one watching your back
Your digital companion remembers nothing at all
Your fate will be sealed and your life will gradually stall
So how should we work with all of these generative tools
We know a lot and we’re certainly nobody’s fools
Don’t take things verbatim and assume everything is right
For these are just tools and they’re certainly not very bright
This poem can be sung to the tune of Sisters of Mercy by Leonard Cohen.
I have not prayed enough to be like you,
I have not loved enough to write like you.
The night is my god, stars my angels
I'll never touch,
while the darkness that hides in my pockets
my lover, but we may speak to one another
in the ten minute afterlife of my brain,
trying to catch up to its dead body.
The conversation agreeable
until you joke that my heaven
is your hell, and I realize
the real Leonard Cohen more sophisticated
than such humour, proving
we all really die alone.
From: People More Famous Than Me (Published 2022)
On Saint Pat’s Day, with the Guinness flowin’
All night long the blarney was blown’
I’ll trap a Leprechaun—I’d shout
With chicken soup, not stout!
Then caught the rarely seen Lepre-Cohen!
Written 3/27/22
There's a boy who's crying in sheer dread
I want to save him
From the gun that's pointed 'gainst his head
I want to save him
There's a girl who's shivering in the cold
I want to save her
From the knife pressed hard against her throat
I want to save her
I'll take a bullet from a gun
A knife wound in my chest
That's how I want to die
Just like a Catcher in the Rye
Bullet from a gun
Knife wound in my chest
That's how I want to die
Just like a Catcher in the Rye
Don't want to wither away
Feeling my body in decay
When my time comes
Let me go protecting God's little ones
Let me go quickly in Glory and Grace
There are kids who suffer everywhere
I want to save them
From the wounds that they can hardly bear
I want to save them
There's a boy who's crying in his sleep
I want to save them
From the angry man he could have been
I want to save them
I'll take a bullet from a gun
A knife wound in my chest
That's how I want to die
Just like a Catcher in the Rye
Bullet from a gun
Knife wound in my chest
That's how I want to die
Just like a Catcher in the Rye
How I want to die....
A great man had a dream
Ending in a murder scene
And I'm not such a man
Never been so brave or grand
But little one
I had a dream
About a nation that became...
A dazzling sky
The heroes of youth
A burning ache
Resurrecting Truth
My dreamy one
I had a dream
About a nation that became...
A guiding hand
Wipes the greed away
A whistle blown
Digs corruption's grave
My dreamy one
I had a dream
About a nation that became...
A jasmine wind
Turns the air so sweet
A cleansing spring
Washes stained elites
Oh, little one
I had a dream
About a nation that became...
A brilliant star
'Bove a poor man's house
A treasure chest
Let the magic out
My dreamy one
I had a dream
Oh, dreamy one, Oh, dreamy one
I had a dream...
This shadow of a man
Had a dream he can't forget
A shadow with a dream
A nation changed, a nation blessed
And let us sing...
Lux et Veritas... Victoria
Let's make our dreams come true
Lux et Veritas... Victoria
And the dream begins with you
My dreamy one
I had a dream
A nation changed
A nation blessed
You knew me when I built monsters
Before the days when you bled
You knew me when I surrendered
To the nightmares in my head
You were just a child
Nothing's ever changed
I see the child in you
Like some eternal flame
Come take my hand
Share my lonely dinner
Tell me if you think
I'm a poet or sinner
Poet or sinner
Tell me what I am
Poet or sinner
Be the angel who can
Raise the dead
While marshmallow dreams
Drown in the tide
Change my world
With the taste of ruin
Flowing from my eyes
Turn back time
Soaked in bubbles
Of our reckless lives
Poet or sinner?
Don't know what I am
You knew me when I fought demons
In your tangled hair
You knew me when I marked you
With my stain of despair
You were just a child
Nothing's ever changed
I see the child in you
Like some eternal flame
All I know
I'll love you in shadows
Till the sun disappears
All I know
I'll love you in shadows
Till His Light reappears
Poet or sinner?
Don't know what I am
In dreams I appear and take her
Down a path she dares not wander
In a town beset by plunder
I shake her blood and bone
In dreams she asks my guidance
How to live in holy silence
Beyond the anger of her father
Enrich her mind and soul
Hold me inside all the night
Your leader's your baby
Hold me inside all the night
Your teacher loves you crazy
In dreams she feels me beside her
As I stoke her female fire
In a world that feels so lonely
I fill her need and hope
In dreams I appear and take her
On wings of heaven's power
Beyond tears that stain her pillow
She takes my love and poem.
Hold me inside all the night
Your leader's your baby
Hold me inside all the night
Your teacher loves you crazy
Hold me
If I could divide the smell of flowers
I'd send some to the falsely charged
Locked in prison cells
Send some to the lonely seniors
Trapped in apartment hells
Send some to the weary miners
Sweating beneath the ground
Send some to the invisible people
Hauling our garbage round
Some answers in life are so easy
Like zero plus zero is none
But how do we divide the smell of flowers
So their fragrance is shared by everyone?
If I could divide the smell of flowers
I'd pass some to the frightened animals
Caged against their wills
Pass some to the dying birds
Choking on oil spills
Pass some to the angry kids
Sniffing up airplane glue
Pass some to the crying widow
Missing the Love she knew
Some answers in life are so easy
Like zero plus zero is none
But how do we divide the smell of flowers
So their fragrance is shared by everyone?
If I could divide the smell of flowers
Then you'd always have your share
If I could divide the smell of flowers
There'd be sweetness around you
Everywhere...
Father, you believed
Never let me bleed
Helped me in my grief
Helped me in my need
Never let me down
Wish you were around
Walking through this town
You're nowhere to be found
Dad, I love you so
Father you believed
Never let me bleed
Always took my side
Always saved my life
Walking through this town
You're nowhere to be found
Dad I love you so
All your life
You gave more than you got
All your life
You tried to give me what
You never had
When you were growing up
All your life
I never showed you enough
Love
God keep him warm
When the winds blow
Dad I love you so
Dad
he sang poetry
sonorous enchanting tone
metaphorical
Prison Cohen Started To Head
Prison is where Cohen started to head,
Which is something that he does dread;
His teeth brushing;
Commode slushing;
Eating meals and spending nights in bed.
Jim Horn
Cohen Sang Song
Cohen sang song which was a carol;
Now they have Trump over a barrel;
He started new cult,
Called sexual assault;
Not only that presidency is imperil.
Jim Ho Ho Horn
Cohen and World of Hurt
More MSNBC News.
What Cohen has is wobbly world of hurt,
And appears to be having a growth spurt,
Too much strain;
He went insane;
Also has looked like he is loosing his shirt.
Jim Horn
Yep. You guessed it. Over ten again.
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