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Catman Cohen

Catman Cohen, 23 november 2013

She's my Hallelujah

I have an evil lover
Torments me with her sting
Fierce Canadian winter
Wearing boots
Made in Beijing

Bathes me in her blood
Leaves wounds across my face
Traps me in her heart
Feels like ice
Inside her lake

She’s my Hallelujah
My Hallelujah
In our Land of
Na Na Na Na

And no man
Could forget
The darkness in her eyes
No man could resist
The perfume of her mind

Build a pagan temple
From her naked holy skin
Live inside her spider
By the gods
Who dwell within

I have an evil lover
Rides my aching soul
Blocks the sun
From shining
In the desert
Where I grow

Wraps me in her scent
Stupefies my brain
Turns my nights
To hunger
For the feast that
She became

She’s my Hallelujah
My Hallelujah
In our Land of
Na Na Na Na

She’s my love
My tragic flaw
In our Land of
Na Na Na Na

My tragic flaw
Hallelujah


number of comments: 0 | rating: 3 | detail

Catman Cohen

Catman Cohen, 23 november 2013

The Mentor




In dreams I appear and take her
Down a path she dares not wander
In a town beset by plunder
I shake her blood and bone
 
In dreams she asks my guidance
How to live in holy silence
Beyond the anger of her father
Enrich her mind and soul
 
Hold me inside all the night
Your leaders your baby
Hold me inside all the night
Your teacher loves you crazy
 
In dreams she feels me beside her
As I stoke her female fire
In a world that feels so lonely
I fill her need and hope
 
In dreams I appear and take her
On wings of heavens power
Beyond tears that stain her pillow
She takes my love and poem.
 
Hold me inside all the night
Your leaders your baby
Hold me inside all the night
Your teacher loves you crazy
 
Hold me



number of comments: 0 | rating: 1 | detail

Catman Cohen

Catman Cohen, 22 november 2013

Hostage in the Bedroom


There’s a gun upon my bed
Not the kind made of metal
A vivid tattoo color
Above my lover’s
Secret devil

And that gun is like a demon
Aimed toward her pleasure zone
Urging hunters to take a shot
And take the trophy
Home

I see blood upon the doorstep
I smell murder in her fold
I fear ghosts will haunt her body
In the bullets I have sown

I hear hungry infants crying
The ones she gave away
And the bastards she is hiding
Are my regrets from yesterday

I feel the gun blazing
As she sucks my breath away
I’m a hostage to her body
In the mayhem
She purveys

In the middle of the night
I’ll make my escape
Run, run, run
Run away

I’ve got to run

In the middle of the night
When her back is turned
Run, run, run
Run away

I’ve got to run

There’s a gun upon my bed
It belongs to my baby
Burned deep inside her
On a night she went
Crazy

And every time I think
I’ll flee
Her dangerous painted gun
She draws it against me
And I feel myself succumb

I see blood upon the doorstep
I smell murder in her fold
I fear ghosts will haunt her body
In the bullets I have sown

I hear hungry infants crying
The ones she gave away
And the bastards she is hiding
Are my regrets from yesterday

Save me from her gun
She’ll never let me go
Save me from drowning
In her young and wanton soul

I’ve got to run
But there’s a gun

My baby won’t let me go.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 3 | detail

Catman Cohen

Catman Cohen, 22 november 2013

Give me Back my Shirt

You stole my shirt again
The one with stains
Beneath my armpits

You lied and said
The shirt somehow fell
Into your suitcase

A dark black shadow
That hurled itself off a cliff
And landed inside your
Sad blonde soul

And when you sleep alone at night
In the naked stretch of your wine-soaked skin

Do you smell my harsh manly aroma
In the pillow of your theft?

Do you wet yourself in the taste of
The baby felons we might make?

Do you imagine yourself wearing
My body
Upon the sharp thrusts of my
Contempt
And
Love?

For a liar, a thief, a fetishist for
Fabric
That revives memories
Of lust long faded

You stole my shirt again
The one that has faint traces
Of your drool, in the way you
Drip yourself upon me
In the hot slumber of your
Babbling incoherent dreams

Give me back my shirt
It was a present from my sister
Who rarely bought me anything
Except for a blue cotton candy
Vivid blue
Like your icy sullen eyes
In the childhood
Of my lonely
Indelible
Lament


number of comments: 0 | rating: 3 | detail


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Other poems: She's my Hallelujah, The Mentor, Hostage in the Bedroom, Give me Back my Shirt,
 

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