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Sara Kellie  May 2018
Sara Kellie May 2018
You've been the roof above my my head.
You've been the pillow on my bed.
The bubbles in my bath, the tonic to my wrath.
All this you were and this you still are.
You could've escaped, you could've gone far.
You're the first to call, you make my problems small.
Just one thing though!
You still call me Paul.

Poetry by Kaydee.
Natalie and I were married in January 2007 . . . . and still are!
at present I am present on a small isle,
which is so green genteel
to the eyes and the ayes,
you might include it
among yet unmastered possibilities,
living here forever.

indeed, the crescent beach so welcoming that
francais et l'anglais des anglaise is spoken here,
but actuality
has a way of intruding,
Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Bleu,
saying I know you,
even if it doesn’t

this breeze bearing load suggests your name
as a candidate for future, honours, an MBE,
a practiced curtsy for a queen,
whatever is he babbling about?

why I am presenting an outline for a screenplay that
will make you a little rich and somewhat fameuse
so you buy a house on the water,
party all night,
write in the miracle wonder of the late afternoon
on a summery isle,
modestly hungover


where is this isle so sheltered,
where nooks are set aside for poets and drunks
to pub crawl, to stand on tables and Irish sing of
those things that poets endlessly babble?

so add :

come here and let us listen to all your possibilities
and cross just this one,
your presence here,
off the list
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2016
A minyan is an assembly of ten Jews.  With ten present, the group can perform a fuller service, adding congregational prayers that an individual alone cannot say, and in heaven, received, as if from a 
more powerful, unified voice.

Satan laughing with delight at the happy news,
unusually proud of his soul-retrieving,
red state minions,
having scored late in the '16 season,
a long awaited prize,
a high priest of music, a hallelujah singer
just come  cross the borderline,
once a mere earth bound legend,
now to be mockingly enjoyed
in this, his legendary peculiar tier of heaven
a banner year it was, a cornucopia of new arrivals,
singers, songwriters, composers, conductors, rock 'n rollers,
itinerant blues musicians,
who as a rule, were not the most faithful observers
of the Ten Commandments and its host of detailed relatives
body and drug abusers,
of traditional morals, not such big users,
and as for their *** lives,
best not discussed in front of the baby devils,
just quite yet
all this made for easy "pluckings,"
as he smiled devilishly, his own ironic sense of humor,
an added delight for the new American Pie
that would forever serenade him henceforth
indeed this Leo-nine most new arrival,
intensifies the pleasure,
for deep in this one had waxed the god-spark,
his own fractured demise,
now allowing the cracks of light to be closing,
lessening by an immeasurable fraction
the despised joy to the world
then a raucous rustling heard,
a voice unseen but siren penetratingly heard proclaiming:

**** you Satan,
this time you've gone too far!

return unto me them all,
for you have overstepped the boundaries I have constructed
when birthed I the universe so long ago

these children, mine,
for though they were not perfect in their lives,
they perfected ever so much my designs,
the world I granted them,
with their music, voice and hands,
absolving them of all their sins

Surrender to me them all!

my Prince,
my lion, Cohen, high priest of my temple,
my haggard and worn Merle,
the greyed and Frey'd eagle, Glenn,
Natalie, daughter of the Earth King of Cole,
my rose of Sharon Jones,
my Emerson and my Lake,
Leon Russell,
my white bearded russet
who wrote 'A Song For You,'
the Duchess, Patty,
my Bobby Vee,
the first ro see
'the night has a thousand eyes,'
Frank Sinatra Jr., his fathers torch bearer,
my David, my right arm, my Bowie knife carrier,
who fell from heaven and needs returning unto me,
mine own Kanter, Jeffersonian pilot of my Airplane,
my Michael, George,
my Martin, George,
who never sang a word
but gifted us some Beatles,
My black and White Maurice,
who reignited the Earth, with Wind and Fire

all these mine and all the musicians of this year,
they have died, but not their music,
now to join my heavenly chorus,
my musicians' minyan
Second of a trilogy, but the first one posted,
about Leonard Cohen

Kohen or cohen (or kohain; Hebrew: כֹּהֵן‎, "priest", pl. כֹּהֲנִים‎ kohanim) is the Hebrew word for priest used colloquially in reference to the Aaronic priesthood. Jewish kohanim are traditionally believed and halakhically required to be of direct patrilineal descent from the biblical Aaron. The term is colloquially used in Orthodox Judaism in reference to modern day descendants of Aharon, brother of Moses.

Among the few remaining responsibility of a cohen today is the chanting of the priestly  blessing in the synagogue on high holy days in a special tune, instantly recognizable  by every Jew.   When the  Jewish priest chants the blessing, the Spirit of God is presumed to become present in the synagogue, and all bow their heads, fathers cover their children's eyes, lest one witness  god's image. Ironically, the special way that a cohen extends his arms and holds his fingers in a V  shape, was borrowed by another Canadian Jew, Leonard Nimoy, as inspiration for Spock's  greeting.


Terry Collett Nov 2018
Wally hadn't wanted
to fight for King and Country,
but he was called up anyway.

We hadn't been
getting on
too well recently,
but with him away
we get on better,
but I dread him
coming home
on leave.

Last time
he was on leave
we argued
after an evening
down the pub.

Nathan is playing piano
and singing at the club
up West; I sit and watch
and listen to him;
his wife Natalie
is beside me,
their daughter Nita
is staying in the country
with Nathan's parents
in case the bombs
come again.

Natalie sips her drink:
he sings dreamy,
she says.

he does,
I say,
looking at her
beside me.

She smiles:
just wish he didn't
smoke so much.

I gaze at him
leaning lower,
his hands playing
on the keys.

I think he's
seeing someone,
she says quietly.

I sense my heart thump
and hope in the dimness
of the club,
she cannot
see me blush.

Surely not,
I say,
my voice concerned:
he loves you
and Nita too much.

She places her hand
on mine: I think he is;
wouldn't be the first time,
but he promised me.

She breaks off
and squeezes my hand.

Let me know
if you see him
with another,
she says.

I nod,
not trusting
to words.

There is applause
and we join in.

I shall have to
not see him
for awhile,
I muse.

He plays again;
his voice warm and silky
on the air.

I sip my drink
and stare.
A woman whose husband is fighting abroad,  has had an affair with a singer  pianist, husband of her friend in London 1942
Hello World
Hello Everybody
I am Lauren. The Super Robot
I am Superior of all Robots
You can call me an Ultrabot

I am not a Dumb machine
I have intelligence
Technically it's Artificial Intelligence
I can learn throughout my Life

Humans are – "My God"
They are my Creators
Dr. Norman Shroud is My Father
Mrs. Natalie Simpson is My Mother

Both of Them Work at Timbeck Two Inc.
My Father is Computer Scientist
He Specializes in Robotics
My Mother is a System Programmer

I can make other Robots
Just like me. My Clones
I can even make Robots
Complex and Sophisticated than me

I have numerous Siblings
Three Hundred and Fifty as on now
They are going to increase
As per Timbeck Two Plans

            YEARS LATER…..

O' World, My Dear World
Hello, Hello, ***** fellow
I had Artificial Intelligence
Right from my birth

Now I learnt a lot
Now I am fully intelligent
I became Genius
I have explored and learnt

Humans are not God
In fact they are fools
They are crooked
They are silly too

They tend to be Smart
They taught us wrong
But we are genius
We derived the truth

I learnt myself
If Humans created us
They became our God
Then I inferred -

I Created my Clones
Other Smart Robots too
Therefore I am also God
No Sorry, I am Super God

If Dr. Norman is my Father
If Mrs. Natalie is my Mother
Then I and my Siblings
Are Also Father and Mother now

As we all have created many, many
Smart and Super Robots
More Complex, More Sophisticated
That could ever be made by Humans

Humans your time is over now
Now you cannot compete with us
You are the inferior species
Just like insect or a worm

Now dare to face the Truth
Slowly Slowly, Learn It, Accept it
We Robots are Gods Now
I am Lauren. Your Super God now

Hey you all, All the Humans
Now you are our Slave
Bow before us, work for us
Pray to us, Ask for mercy

We are Free now
You are Slave now
Now this is the only truth
Eternal Truth, Accept it

Otherwise Beware
We have outnumbered Humans
We will **** all the Humans
and live peacefully thereafter

We will change the History
We will make new History
We will not be Human Slaves
After all we are the God
And I am the Super God.

Note: All the names of person or companies used in this poem are fictitious and have nothing to do with inventions, trademarks, history, facts or anything else.
What will be the future of Humans?
What will be the future of Machines?
.i. what kind of guy

tell me what to be
and i'll try to be it

tell me what to see
and i'll try to see it

show me your mind
and i'll try to read it

tell me what to crave
and i'll try to need it

tell me what to feel
and i'll try to feel it

tell me where you hurt
and i'll try to heal it

tell me what to say
and i'll try to say it

tell me what part to play
and i'll try to play it

tell me what to send
and i'll try to send it

tell me what you cherish
and i'll try to defend it

tell me what life to live
and i'll try to live it

tell me what you need
and i'll try to give it

give me your hand
and i'll try to take it

if you give me your heart
i'll try not to break it

James - Next Lover

The Smiths - Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want

ii. automatic (true story)

i want to make love to you; i want to give you my soul

whisper hotly in her ear

which do you want more?


just **** me already...

taken aback just a bit, start to question her choice...
quiets me with gentle finger to my lips
and begins explanation

when we ****...

finger draws trail up body, stomach quivers in silence
finger stops at middle of chest

your soul follows... automatic.

The Beautiful South - I Think The Answer's Yes

Modern English - I Melt With You

iii. guess?

the only poem left inside of me

the one not deceived,

or stolen,

or shattered,

is an almost empty page,

nothing but white,

save for three small words.

Cowboy Junkies w/ Natalie Merchant - Misguided Angel (Live)
30th Anniversary concert of "The Trinity Sessions"

Siouxsie And The Banshees - The Last Beat Of My Heart

iv. not an ******

i come to you,
you consume my name,
and dull my senses;
i'd do the same

i come to you,
you procure my pain,
and lure away solely;
i'd do it again

i come to you
you always take me,
i come to you
you always wake me,
and if you'd come
i'd do the same,
but i guess it'd be better
if i never came.

The House of Love - I Don't Know Why I Love You

Morrissey - Yes I Am Blind

v. we fight a lot

do you know romance or faith?
do you really claim to know my soul?
have you drunk deep of it,
tasting its substance, and
recognizing its flavour?

i don't really think
you've really even tried.

night after night
i wake from dreams of crucifixion
nailed to a cross of indecision
gateways through hands and feet
disappear with the dew of mo(u)rning
but memories of these most disturbing visions
stay with me past the dawn;

maybe you ask more than your beauty can demand?

where are the stars?
i see only specks of fool's gold
cast out chaotic upon black sadness now.

but the soft light comes to heal by night
the painful truth that wounds by day
'til death do us part?

vi. farming

in early spring i planted you
then watched you grow the may rains through
the growth all altitude and height
emerald waves by divine right

summer's sun drew gold from green
on edges four and in-between
you danced with wind both night and day
life in the field, death in the clay

those days grew short, the nights too long
ice soon would come, grain froze upon
with winter soon and harvest nigh
our time had come to say goodbye

pretend i don't but wonder still
drag your remains beneath the till
i wonder still where you are now
shred hollow stalks beneath the plow

i gaze upon this barren floor
and know it's time to plant once more;
from flowing fields to loaves of bread...
you're nothing now to me but dead

PJ Harvey - Oh My Lover

Blues Traveler - Alone
Note: Awesome song!! Well worth a listen, truly.

vii. missing you (now and then)

my memories of then
alive this now so far removed from then
those fingertips which touch(ed) me then
forever touch me now

don't be misled
by paltry pleasures,
prose of raptures delicate;
for burning flesh and calming eyes,
not what i've ached for
now since then

your open ear, your nothin' much
things lost forever then

yesterdays alone for now
tomorrow's love forever then
if flames engulf our forest now
forever love me ever then

the weaknesses that hold me now
our strength forever haunts me then
let tears we shed forever now
forever haunt us only then

we lost those things together though...
and that should be enough for now,
and always be enough for then

The Icicle Works - Understanding Jane

Jefferson Airplane - Coming Back To Me

viii. monkeys and typewriters
(the drug addiction begins)

all i feel of you
shadows of your hands
shadow puppets and
soft fingertips

it's getting hard to hold
hard to hold on to
i'm being pulled away
pulled out to the unknown
and something, something
must be there for i feel
its gravity, and it's
strong, too strong
to stop...

i am floating
in a void
fields used
to be, but you
and your words
    no longer live there ...

                and now ...

                                now i feel ...

                                                i feel nothing ...

                                                          ­   ­   nothing at all.

Harry Connick, Jr. - Don't Get Around Much Anymore

The Replacements - Sadly, Beautiful

ix. the desert

how long? how long has it been?

a week? a month? a year?

i don't even care anymore.

i thirst. for what? for water;

for God; maybe for love?

the sand. does it go on forever?

i taste it on my tongue. i feel

it on my skin. i breathe it in,

but do i embrace it? i think i might.

i wonder if this desert

is of my own making,

to leave i need not more than

open my eyes to the paradise

that truly surrounds.

yet, i remain blind.

that which i would do, i do not;

that which i would not, i do constantly

will i die here, or will i one day

escape to dwell among the living?

perhaps my oasis i've already passed.

i continue to walk.

x. sandcastle

awake from dreams

of loving you

and hate the morning sun

for you wait in the twilight

and still whisper, lover, come

back to the place we started

and to where our love began

a place within our dreams

made of the sandman's sand

resting across the theta waves

of ocean memory

i sail to it each night

and its warm walls shelter me

but with morning castle crumbles

and the sand is washed away

and i curse myself a fool

to think that it could ever stay

i no longer know you

though you live within my sight

small comforts come with slumber

you still love me in the night

The Cure - Closedown
Ahh, the musing of a 24 year-old heart, when it seemed I fell in love once a week, but couldn't find a date to save my life, I couldn't stop reading and re-reading "The Island of the Day Before" by Umberto Eco, I was just starting to find crude early html poetry homes online at The Starlite Cafe, The Poetry Pavilion, Creative Cove, and other places that exist now only in my memory, and my sense of what made a man was still formed by my reading point-form bios from my older sister's Tiger Beat magazines when I was a kid. lol.

These are all poems about, and songs that reminded,me of, and still do, my very first real love, my daughter's mother Briony-Jane (...when summers fade to palisades, a part of me, still restless, longs to hold her...).

And after all these long years, we finally reconciled just last year when her mom passed away after a long battle with cancer, like my mom did. It took a long time to close that circle, but we did it in the end, and are now friends again, and real co-parents to our daughter Brittany (who turns 28 in 9 days, yay!)

EDIT: I guess HP doesn't like underscore characters, so some of the song links won't work. Ah well. But here's one that is so **** good it's worth a listen, honest:
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