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Nat Lipstadt Jun 28
We Are So Lightly Here

“So come, my friends, be not afraid, we are so lightly here
It is in love that we are made, in love we disappear
Though all the maps of blood and flesh are posted on the door
There’s no one who has told us yet what Boogie Street is for”
Leonard Cohen “Boogie Street”


my body, my eyes, my entirety, tattooed, with a city map,
here, at this exact place, our eyes glanced, our eyes closed,
who among us does not possess such a living guide,
memories presented in a 3-D versions, constantly edited.

placed your hand on my privacy, bid you enter, not a dare,
more an invitation to risk, become a true love of mine,
share exhilaration, desert valleys that pockmark unexpectedly,
changes us to we, regresses, you and me, post-survivalists cut.

2 gather, modify highs/lows, meet & peaking@peculiar tunes,
ever embraces residuals a sour film upon our lips, a puzzling,
what excites, pacifies, returns us street corner, X’d our map,
glances exchanged across an empty street, seeing each, not.
Tom Waiting Jul 2020
After John Prine:
“There's flies in the kitchen,
I can hear 'em there buzzing,
And I ain't done nothing since I woke up today”

Mr. John Prine


There's flies in the kitchen,
all around my eyes and head,
they’re just gossiping bout me,
why most mornings
I’m still laying in bed
at almost near
noon-time, why too, them
angels and their a-fluttering wings,
a-flapping, still hanging around,
when they’re so far from home

truth be told, I kinda like new combinations,
the musical vibes, magic incantations,
boogie woogie, fuzzy buzzy eyelash sounds,
bluesy background harmonies against the
harps them angel wings are playing,
I’m getting every note writ down so,

I can play it well on the morrow, on my
following them higher up, all the ways up
on that glowing shining stairway to heaven,
guarantee-****-teeing entrance through the
pearly gates for the flies and a lazy, no-account
worthless S.O.B. like me
I hear breathing and scratching under my bed, which sends an icy chill that would wake the dead.
A faint moaning springs from under my bed, it freezes my heart as I pray for a quick death.
My toes are out in the cold and they are very exposed, quick, quick can I drag them in?
I look over the side of the bed to see a pair of eyes blinking in dread.
As I realized to my heart's content it's just my kitten cowering under the recesses of my bed.
You never know what's under your bed!
Michael Robert Triska Copyright 2017
Spenser Bennett Apr 2016
Afraid to speak, they only knew
Think me weak or know me true

A silence, let linger
Please see the depth
Don't let me sink for

There is more to breath; promise.

Hard to say heavy words

My mouth betrayed, broke down levy
Don't let me drown, love

Don't drink the flood
Hold my hand, whether
storm and blood
I have an illustrious dream,
     want to be Leonard
          Cohen's gypsy wife,
he's kissing my lips on
    Boogie Street,
impetuously we dance
    to the end of love
       'til closing time
       midst his secret life,
he serenades me with
     I'm your man
         when we take Manhattan,
bewildered by his poetic beauty there
     waiting for the miracle to happen,
a sip of wine, a cigarette
         in love we disappear,
   here it is, you got me singing
        be that dog in heat,
I'll take this waltz and
   another please, cause
             everybody knows
     I hunger for your touch,
  his famous blue raincoat
         and the dew on my thigh
goes a thousand kisses deep
   in the cave at the tip of the lily
  with its very own breath of brandy,
slipping into the masterpiece
             where Lenny is eternal
If you don't love Leonard Cohen's poetry and music, it probably won't make much sense.
Brycical May 2015
The entire cast is dead
in 90% of the movies I watch.

Sometimes my *** smells like popcorn
and it's probably because of all the coconut oil I consume.

I wonder what day of the week
ends with nobody talking to me.

It's hard to remember which color I forgot to remember.

Whisky doesn't do much for me anymore,
maybe I should start paying for it again.

It's possible because it's impossible
possibly because of the possibility.

It's only a matter of time isn't true
because time isn't matter, nor does it.

Forever, infinity and etcetera gotta meet up at least once.

I'm in the best shape of my life,
it's kind of oval-y and rectangular, sorta looks like me.

Personally, I think opinions are subjective.

— The End —