Interviewer: Does something bother you? How can you write poetry if you are not bothered by something?
Leonard Cohen: I'm bothered when I wake in the morning. My real concern is to discover whether or not I am in a state of grace and if I discover that I am not I go back to bed.
Old time is still a-flying :
And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying."
— To the Virgins, To Make Much of Time by Robert Herrick
‘Class? No such thing.
Everyone is relatively well off now’
So said I last year - naive fuck.
Does that offend you? ‘Fuck’.
Does it clash with your bourgeois sentimentality?
The ‘correct’ way to do things…
To talk,
To act,
To
t
y
p
e
Let’s see some proof then. . ?
Natural order?
Humans are indeed natural
we are animals.
nothing more
nothing less.
We live by selfish means,
for selfish ends.
God?
I cannot say I’ve met him.
Morality?
Just a ‘feeling’.
Or the sentiments of a book,
written by those who suffer too
from the human condition.
Acceptability?
That’s it, you want to be acceptable.
To meet the approval of the self-important
and the religion of
self-worship.
Bend to social tyranny.
Fucking bourgeois.
Worst thing is.
I’m just like you.
by onlyanotherhuman (April 2012)
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain."
—
T.S. Eliot, From The Burial of the Dead in The Wasteland
I adore this poem, can you believe it is almost one hundred years old now?
Many many many voices
followed by a hard electrical snap
& then what –
starlit at the moment of enlightenment?
No.
As you were.
by forgetlings
Coward is me? coward I be not,
O’ beauty dark – impermeable, closed,
I look’d in vain, but to see thee I cannot.
by onlyanotherhuman (January 2012)
