leonardcohenforum.com

I sold every dream I had for a bottle or for thighs

that blatantly lied to me or ridiculed my need.

I had lost both my appetite for devotion and surprise,

a victim of circumstances, disinclined to lead.

I truly shattered every moment of clarity for the sake

of some vision I had no capacity to define or name.

I sold every dream assuring I could stay on the make

for some disoriented moment of disenchanted fame.


I bartered with the gifts I possessed and received little

that could be put to use in this world of tinsel and lies.

I ignored all compliments, and sought merely to belittle

all accomplishments I had made in another man’s disguise.

I certainly plundered my illusions for some sense of truth

when I was unable to look to myself for that blessing.

What happens when you can no longer entertain that ruse

that served to quell a multitude of needs overwhelming, pressing?


Certainly something must come from this, something I can discern

as a flash of insight from a consciousness too long ignored.

A thousand bottles lie behind me, I wonder if I have learned

a single thing from those qualities I once deplored?

No matter, let these words attempt to settle some ancient law

upon those dreams I held in such high, righteous esteem.

I sold every dream I had for a bottle I believed could address flaws

that I found myself unencumbered with in my deepest dreams.

What a lament. Could be The Drunkard's Lament....or any of other laments. Another, very typically-you, powerful ending, that I like very much. I like the way it weaves in and out of several planes:

I sold every dream I had for a bottle I believed could address flaws

that I found myself unencumbered with in my deepest dreams.

I really like what you do with words, J.

~ Lizzy

This is a wonderfull piece of work.
Georges