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"bleecker" poems
inspired  by“Blame It on Kristofferson” written by Byron Hill and John Wilken, released 2010 (lyrics below) <•> A young teen listens to the folk/rock during the Sixties, five few years later, now all growed up and living, crazy, on Bleecker Street, the very same, where these songs were being sung live, by the artists, songwriters & friends on the streets’s bars ‘n cafes And Judy sings a ballad, mysterious, ‘bout a Marianne and all the tea in China, words written like it was a poem, and the infection was silent transferred, still ‘fected, even now, in days sooner to be reporting to heaven’s door, this blessed curse will be unrelenting coming along, we blame it on Leonard Cohen Knew the words, learned the secret chords, which was easy, a-direct line between us, knew where he got them holy tunes, and the words he stole stealthy from our prayerbook, went to Montreal, visited his home, it was no accident, just the hand of god, but don't blame the divine mystery being, nah~nope, half~century, later, this dope still blames it on, yeah that’s right, on Leonard Cohen And here we are, the two of us, probably smiling, gesticulating and gesturing, who in fact is truly responsible for our crazy gene, that pursues us, to create, to mate words with music of the deep soul, and here me be, I am, grateful grasping for each latter day to birth a new creation, going out smiley & feeling kindly and fulfilled, now more than ever, and zero doubts that the person at fault, fully blaming it all on my Canadian soul brother, Leonard Cohen
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Dec 22, 2024
Dec 22, 2024 at 9:36 AM UTC
Blame it on Leonard Cohen
inspired  by“Blame It on Kristofferson” written by Byron Hill and John Wilken, released 2010 (lyrics below) <•> A young teen listens to the folk/rock during the Sixties, five few years later, now all growed up and living, crazy, on Bleecker Street, the very same, where these songs were being sung live, by the artists, songwriters & friends on the streets’s bars ‘n cafes And Judy sings a ballad, mysterious, ‘bout a Marianne and all the tea in China, words written like it was a poem, and the infection was silent transferred, still ‘fected, even now, in days sooner to be reporting to heaven’s door, this blessed curse will be unrelenting coming along, we blame it on Leonard Cohen Knew the words, learned the secret chords, which was easy, a-direct line between us, knew where he got them holy tunes, and the words he stole stealthy from our prayerbook, went to Montreal, visited his home, it was no accident, just the hand of god, but don't blame the divine mystery being, nah~nope, half~century, later, this dope still blames it on, yeah that’s right, on Leonard Cohen And here we are, the two of us, probably smiling, gesticulating and gesturing, who in fact is truly responsible for our crazy gene, that pursues us, to create, to mate words with music of the deep soul, and here me be, I am, grateful grasping for each latter day to birth a new creation, going out smiley & feeling kindly and fulfilled, now more than ever, and zero doubts that the person at fault, fully blaming it all on my Canadian soul brother, Leonard Cohen
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I baked your skin onto the asphalt with my oven eyes Between Macdougal and Bleecker street Where i first met you. Everything gray reminds me of you. I envisioned myself Breaking into song and dance With everybody down every cross road, Belting a ballad of beauty and admiration About what you and I once were. I relived that moment when i cried, “She’s really gone this time”... Yet as much as i missed her, all i did was sway in the traffic Of business men and women And homeless dogs and all those Crazy jazz cats. I stepped precisely on each crack I swear i didn’t mean to break your back, Or my word that bound us As close as the moon and the sun. A funny promise that made my nose Shrivel up. I lay on the hot asphalt between Macdougal and Bleecker street, Heartless, Dreaming of you to come back to me. © 2016 D.M.V
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Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 4:39 PM UTC
Asphalt
The 352 Blues this city treats the poor with swift unkindness, but if you peel your eyes, you don't necessarily have to always sing the ole 352 Bleecker Blues the eyetalian storekeeper, gives us morning java, when we sing for him on the guitar, The Star-Spangled Banner, refills, if we add America the Beautiful they say that heat rises, but that don't seem true in our third floor walk up on rue 352 Bleecker Street, the cold companion enters thru the busted stain glass window no matter, no cares, we light the fireplace, with wood and anything that'll burn, we scavenged from the street, pallets and newspapers, rent bills overdue, yesterday's 352 truths at two AM, the cops, in their cars cooping, fast asleep, only just us, the johns, the ****** and troubadours, walking the streets looking for free stuff to burn pass the hat for tips next to the arch, enough for daily bread but we get our ***** and **** for free, just for singing the 352 blues even when down and out on the village streets, bleak on Bleecker street, you gotta sing the 352 blues, especially when you're riding high and living cool, down on easy Bleecker Street in 1968 ~~~~~~~ Before you ask me if this true, save your breath, the answer is Which part?
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Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 11:50 AM UTC
the ole 352 Bleecker Blues
I saw a seagull today with a broken wing. He was walking down Bleecker Street. I never saw a bird move so fast on his feet. He was really haulin’ *** I smiled to myself. And I swear he looked right at me and smiled back. It made me realize Sometimes, you just have to make the best out of what you’ve got.
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Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 10:41 PM UTC
The Seagull
Bleecker Street, a name associated with New York City in the section of Soho But makes Bleecker Street many don’t know Just what made Bleecker Street unique? It’s straight out history is what makes the street complete It was a Goldsmith shop Just a gallop hop The shop was the most famous on the block The Goldsmith owner being Manny Strong He was a man who knew how to get along Mr. Strong was also a professional strongman His strength was always in demand Mr. Strong could bend bars to shape horseshoes However, he could lift heavy weights and even horses himself Now Manny Strong was ahead of his time, but not like everybody else Mr. Strong was a valued Circus strongman being the star of the show But a good glance of his physique was just follow the flow He would often lift weights over his head But he would often break chains instead Mr. Strong had no trouble in getting a female date But it always had to be a woman who could relate It was Mr. Strong’s strength that was his build up His massive muscles were his character in making female’s feel safe in his arms Yet it was his confidence in don’t be alarmed Mr. Strong was all strength in being a sturdy solid man The call of his trade, a business man in demand One of the strongest in the land This was Manny Strong’s life that made Bleecker Street his caravan.
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Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 7:41 PM UTC
BLEECKER STREET