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Kate longshaw Feb 2019
The Beatles are your jam,
I like pink Floyd.
I see the music scam,
Controlled and devoid!
My idols, once much loved,
Such talent, what sounds!
Their ***** hands once gloved,
Their lows know no bounds.
How epically great they are.
How cool and unique,
Each one such a shining star.
Now I see how they're weak.
They'll no doubt be exceptions,
Won't follow the the rule,
Most built on deceptions,
I'll sing and dance like a fool!
Can't unhear such lyrics,
Nor forget their beats.
Won't break into hysteria,
Nor allow such defeats.
To whom would I get my groove on?
What song would I belt?
Ok so it's all just such a con,
Songs I've grown up with and felt...
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 Bowieknife 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.

see en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Priestly_Blessing

see
//jewcy.com/jewish-arts-and-culture/leonard-nimoy-vulcan-salute-yiddish
Phi Kenzie Aug 2018
They start as a single
before moving to unity
a chorus of chortles
to those who listen for that

It’s hard not to
when they rehearse in your right ear
and perform in the left

You said that they could
lent them the key
thought about drowning out
with a little symphony

What a ******* mistake that was
August
and all the bugs are looking for love
faeri Aug 2018
Think about it...

Nothing is sweeter than two poets writing about each other.

Nothing is happier than two musicians playing for each other.

Nothing is more amazing than two singers singing to each other.

Nothing is more beautiful than two artists painting for each other.

Although, the best is still two humans living for each other.
Lillian May Jun 2018
a musician
a symphony
he can feel it                 finger by finger.
when he plays it he is singing it inside his mind.
          he said
"There's a pretty good chance I'll never get anywhere."
he puzzles me. he seems to have forgotten already
that he ever was such a person that may have significance.
no concept of him as he was; valuable.
          Well,
just for fun I wrote about the details of him
quiet and humble and letting the music speak for him
though he thought any voice of his small
whether from his mouth or his instrument
but I could hear him just fine
My friends like to make jokes about how I only date guys that look gay
Don't laugh, because it's partially true
I like long hair,
That's probably problem number one,
But I just want something to run my fingers through, something to braid when I'm bored

It's also probably because I fall in love with musicians
My ideal man is Roger from Rent
A guitar playing, napkin lyric writing heroine addict
Yes, I fell in love with him when I was 12
Sweet addiction,
Cigarettes and leather were always my thing
D, N, and A are the initials of my first infatuations. I do not concider them first loves.
Taylor Marion Oct 2016
It was the turning point of my youth.
The age I realized,
“If I dig far enough into my mind, I can eventually find gold.”
So I stood in the middle of the street of my hometown, stared into the sky and begged for answers.
(Answers I was too affected to search for in front of me)
It didn’t hear my questions, of course,
so I made up the answers myself and made those answers my religion.
I guess I wanted to feel responsible for my maker’s omnipotence.

Always feeling misunderstood, I ignored those who opposed me and opened my ears to those alike. I sang along and sang into a mic like I was atop a podium.
I felt special and entitled.
I wanted to be heard like the rest of them and die with my shrill cry echoing for all eternity until eternity died.

Now, I’m beginning to see my skin fold and my eyes inflame.
I look back on past thoughts and deride.
How embarrassing it is to have zero experience and claim to have lived like you’ve lived nine lives.
Since, I’ve thrown out many records along with my many bloated ideas
because my neck has become exhausted from holding my thick nose in the air.
And my religion keeps shrinking the drunker I get with loneliness
and now I finally have room to see who my maker has made: a faker.

All my idols are *******
Dressed as angels
All my idols are crooks
Dressed as victims
All my idols are artists
Dressed as… well… whoever they want you to see.
Almost as well dressed as me
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