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"furnance" poems
It is copyright © Leonard Cohen 2006 and Jacket magazine 2007. Takanawa Prince Hotel Bar Slipping down into the Pure Land into the Awakened State of Drunk into the furnance blue Heart of the one one one true Allah the Beloved Companion of Dangerous Moods– Slipping down into the 27 Hells of my own religion my own sweet dark religion of drunk religion my bended knee of Poetry my robes my bowl my scourge of Poetry my final circumcision after the circumcision of the flesh and the circumcision of the heart and the circumcision of the yearning to Return to be Redeemed to be Washed to be Forgiven Again the Final Circumcision the Final and Great Circumcision– Broken down awhile and cowarding in the blasting rays of Hideous Enlightenment but now finally surrendered to the Great Resignation of Poetry and not the kind of Wise Experience or the false kisses of Competitive Insight, but my own sweet dark religion of Poetry my ***** prize my sandals and my shameful prayer my invisible Mexican candle my useless oils to clean the house and remove my rival’s spell on my girlfriend’s memory– O Poetry my Final Circumcision: All the pain was in fearing and ignoring the girl’s voice and the girl’s touch and the girl’s fragrant humbling girlishness which was lost three wars ago– And O my love I love you again I am your dog your cat your Cleopatran snake I am bleeding painlessly from the Final Formless Circumcision as I push up your dress a little way and kiss your miraculously lactating knee And may all of you who watch and G-d forbid! are in a suffering predicament as I go sliding down to Love– may you speedily be embraced by the girlishness of your own dark girlish religion
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Sep 14, 2020
Sep 14, 2020 at 12:46 PM UTC
Takanawa Prince Hotel Bar by Leonard Cohen
It is copyright © Leonard Cohen 2006 and Jacket magazine 2007. Takanawa Prince Hotel Bar Slipping down into the Pure Land into the Awakened State of Drunk into the furnance blue Heart of the one one one true Allah the Beloved Companion of Dangerous Moods– Slipping down into the 27 Hells of my own religion my own sweet dark religion of drunk religion my bended knee of Poetry my robes my bowl my scourge of Poetry my final circumcision after the circumcision of the flesh and the circumcision of the heart and the circumcision of the yearning to Return to be Redeemed to be Washed to be Forgiven Again the Final Circumcision the Final and Great Circumcision– Broken down awhile and cowarding in the blasting rays of Hideous Enlightenment but now finally surrendered to the Great Resignation of Poetry and not the kind of Wise Experience or the false kisses of Competitive Insight, but my own sweet dark religion of Poetry my ***** prize my sandals and my shameful prayer my invisible Mexican candle my useless oils to clean the house and remove my rival’s spell on my girlfriend’s memory– O Poetry my Final Circumcision: All the pain was in fearing and ignoring the girl’s voice and the girl’s touch and the girl’s fragrant humbling girlishness which was lost three wars ago– And O my love I love you again I am your dog your cat your Cleopatran snake I am bleeding painlessly from the Final Formless Circumcision as I push up your dress a little way and kiss your miraculously lactating knee And may all of you who watch and G-d forbid! are in a suffering predicament as I go sliding down to Love– may you speedily be embraced by the girlishness of your own dark girlish religion
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56
I Have had a hard life, but so hasent everybody else, I try to forget the pain, but im afraid of the result going against the grain,i still have to be true to myself, relationships have come and gone, making it hard for life in my lane to just go along with a flow i haven't been able to stay on for so long, honestly i care, but its hard to not be scared, when the reality and truth has been, hidden, forbidden, now were are the people that said they cared?  are they there? maybe im delusional in this world , but everybody makes references and insults and get suprised when ***** pops off in the mist of the air, tell me what it feels like being that kid sitting over there, trust me, ive been there ive done that **** was never fair, but realize those kids end up killed or in jail, dont feel left out, dont set your self to fail, cause they act like punks and claim they get the best ******* but they turn they back on a homie when **** switches, and the watch an chain he wearin aint real, he stole it from that homeless innocent woman with not a dime to spill, so think about it, and let this **** set in, cause i know these words that im spewing ill never be forgettin, people these days have no ******* morals, back in the day there was a way to get along without needing money in ya pocket, im trying to capture every good moment i have, maybd put it in neckless and lock it, hold it tight in my heart, but burn so these hater can never grin at the truth,. they cant **** with my furnance, wich is the root ofmy heart, and ill never let anybody change me or rip my family apart,
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Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 9:06 PM UTC
Emotional Freestyle, (nick Grigorenko)
I Have had a hard life, but so hasent everybody else, I try to forget the pain, but im afraid of the result going against the grain,i still have to be true to myself, relationships have come and gone, making it hard for life in my lane to just go along with a flow i haven't been able to stay on for so long, honestly i care, but its hard to not be scared, when the reality and truth has been, hidden, forbidden, now were are the people that said they cared?  are they there? maybe im delusional in this world , but everybody makes references and insults and get suprised when ***** pops off in the mist of the air, tell me what it feels like being that kid sitting over there, trust me, ive been there ive done that **** was never fair, but realize those kids end up killed or in jail, dont feel left out, dont set your self to fail, cause they act like punks and claim they get the best ******* but they turn they back on a homie when **** switches, and the watch an chain he wearin aint real, he stole it from that homeless innocent woman with not a dime to spill, so think about it, and let this **** set in, cause i know these words that im spewing ill never be forgettin, people these days have no ******* morals, back in the day there was a way to get along without needing money in ya pocket, im trying to capture every good moment i have, maybd put it in neckless and lock it, hold it tight in my heart, but burn so these hater can never grin at the truth,. they cant **** with my furnance, wich is the root ofmy heart, and ill never let anybody change me or rip my family apart,
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2
I wonder, were we... Roman lovers? with laurel wreathes and toga covers? Or maybe we were cowboy robbers? Maybe we were outlawed 'shiners. I just know that I know you from somewhere. This isn't the first go-round for you and me. We were something before in some kind of capacity   Maybe we we're royalty. Maybe you were betrothed to me; maybe we fought, and maybe you ruled, and maybe my father gave me over to you. I'll bet you were older, still. I bet I still argued with you. I bet I still kissed you like I had always loved you. Maybe you were married Maybe I was, too. Maybe we were strangers, or secrets from others, Maybe I married you. Maybe we had sons. Each just as handsome and strong as the next one. Maybe I worked for you, with you, or against you. Maybe I cracked your shell, Maybe you made me fall, maybe we were the other's glue. and I bet we still looked Just like we do now. I bet your eyes were that syrupy blue suede goo And I bet I still wanted you. Needed you. Baited you. Waited and stayed with you. I bet I still strung your world on a string. And I bet in whatever lifetime it was, we had the very best of everything. I bet we were a team. I bet we still undid the other at the seams. I bet you woulda died for me, Robin Hood. I bet you were a knight with cool armor and a sword. Or maybe I took care of you, Maybe we met in a tent,   you in camo stained with blood, a white skirt to my knees. Maybe I saved you. Maybe you saved me. Maybe you're my Daddy Warbucks, I always did find him **** Maybe we were patriots and met in a tavern. maybe on the Titanic and you spoke German Maybe we were neighbors. Maybe you were my professor, Dr. Indiana Jones. Just as **** in a classroom as you'd be   scoping out a tomb. There's something you emit that draws me back to a moment that's blurry and distant but I know that I miss it. If a thousand years ago you ran your fingers through my hair. or two hundred and twenty since the last time our flame flared, we're burning hot as and been in business just the same as Hell's furnance. Unpredictable as Vesuvius I think by now my old soul can smell yours a mile away. I think your eyes spill your secrets like broken flood gates. I think I've seen every micro expression cross your face at one point in all of my foggy visions, and I breathe in the vapors of what we can't remember and I'm soggy in your arms. Who knows how many of my lifetimes you've already charmed. And still I want you. And need you. And bait you. Wait and stay with you. Behind closed doors we could fill a room with the ghosts from our histories. I can remember that the moment you kiss me. This alchemy has existed for centuries.
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Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 7:51 AM UTC
Old Alchemy
I wonder, were we... Roman lovers? with laurel wreathes and toga covers? Or maybe we were cowboy robbers? Maybe we were outlawed 'shiners. I just know that I know you from somewhere. This isn't the first go-round for you and me. We were something before in some kind of capacity   Maybe we we're royalty. Maybe you were betrothed to me; maybe we fought, and maybe you ruled, and maybe my father gave me over to you. I'll bet you were older, still. I bet I still argued with you. I bet I still kissed you like I had always loved you. Maybe you were married Maybe I was, too. Maybe we were strangers, or secrets from others, Maybe I married you. Maybe we had sons. Each just as handsome and strong as the next one. Maybe I worked for you, with you, or against you. Maybe I cracked your shell, Maybe you made me fall, maybe we were the other's glue. and I bet we still looked Just like we do now. I bet your eyes were that syrupy blue suede goo And I bet I still wanted you. Needed you. Baited you. Waited and stayed with you. I bet I still strung your world on a string. And I bet in whatever lifetime it was, we had the very best of everything. I bet we were a team. I bet we still undid the other at the seams. I bet you woulda died for me, Robin Hood. I bet you were a knight with cool armor and a sword. Or maybe I took care of you, Maybe we met in a tent,   you in camo stained with blood, a white skirt to my knees. Maybe I saved you. Maybe you saved me. Maybe you're my Daddy Warbucks, I always did find him **** Maybe we were patriots and met in a tavern. maybe on the Titanic and you spoke German Maybe we were neighbors. Maybe you were my professor, Dr. Indiana Jones. Just as **** in a classroom as you'd be   scoping out a tomb. There's something you emit that draws me back to a moment that's blurry and distant but I know that I miss it. If a thousand years ago you ran your fingers through my hair. or two hundred and twenty since the last time our flame flared, we're burning hot as and been in business just the same as Hell's furnance. Unpredictable as Vesuvius I think by now my old soul can smell yours a mile away. I think your eyes spill your secrets like broken flood gates. I think I've seen every micro expression cross your face at one point in all of my foggy visions, and I breathe in the vapors of what we can't remember and I'm soggy in your arms. Who knows how many of my lifetimes you've already charmed. And still I want you. And need you. And bait you. Wait and stay with you. Behind closed doors we could fill a room with the ghosts from our histories. I can remember that the moment you kiss me. This alchemy has existed for centuries.
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176
I am a lump of coal, -You are the spark, That ignites my heart into a burning furnance.
0
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 2:52 PM UTC
Let my soul sing:
((>                            <)) <^> ////  • || <> /   (  (   \              ) (           )                                      •     •      •           tired a runnin Time to turn around •• Say :::: I DO remember When you were real // ( a long time ago ! ) •• It's okay We're still here //// War weary but still here //// Us and the negroes And the refugees • The poor misbegotten ones The hapless lovers The undignified cop on the street •• SHALL WE HONOR ONE ANOTHER AGAIN ? •• we walk thru painful years  unblossoming //// We die completely Over and over • We shall step aside the treadmill We shall become MAN we shall regain our dignity ////// In the Wild Country with no Name We shall find each other We shall speak the True Language & call one another By our True Names
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Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 8:45 PM UTC
Out the furnance