Catman Cohen, 23 november 2013
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
Catman Cohen, 23 november 2013
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
Catman Cohen, 22 november 2013
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.
Catman Cohen, 22 november 2013
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