The Geranium Hotel Poems

Be an accidental poet Not a real genius Be a boy with a pen And later build up an African empire Equip the Ethiopians with guns and ammunition Be an accidental adventurer Never a genius Try to stand straight on a drunken boat While you set fire to the sails Swap the sea for sand Swap the waves for the camel's gait Discover Explore Let your hair turn grey Fall in love with an Ethiopian woman Let those thoughts of Poetry and French Men go Blur your vision through the camera lens that you hold in your skinny white hand Say goodbye You abismal genius

The Moon is the greatest of Transvestites She holds the bruises of school bullies Her makeup is better than any lady you will meet Better than my bullish sister Better than the painted prostitutes of media Better than the young men of music The Moon she gets up on stage once a month Puts on her sequinned show Parading and dancing and showing us the theatre or romance and space And then she will slowly draw her blinds Closes her door Allows herself to rest Sitting on her favourite lounge Wearing her favourite satin gown Watching reruns of an old detective show I love The Moon

Sitting by a fire Sitting on a train Thinking of the sins of Man Thinking of America Watching the moon Watching the black river Crying for my misery Crying for a prayer Gathering my thoughts Gathering my grace Looking for the king Looking for the end Oh sweet love of mine When the door closed behind you I thought about following But the garden needed tending Building a new temple Building a new vision Thinking of my Mother Thinking of her dead Father Listening for the wagon Listening for good luck Fighting off the soldiers Fighting off the rain Shaking with a fever Shaking with the blues Ignoring the folk singer Ignoring the president Oh sweet love of mine When you sat by the fire I never thought you'd catch the train Now you've gone I'm out here tending my garden Whistling with the birds

You are drained So come sit down Tell me about your day Tell me of the friends you love The friends who use you For beer and cigarettes But you keep ‘em around For their talk and their laughs And some of them you love Some of them you would do anything for Even if they say things that make you cringe Things that you would never say You know they are the water That puts out the fire That fuels the hell within And when those friends get too much When the beer and the drugs Become a thorn in your milk white skin Come home to me And tell me what a drag they are With a symphonic voice And Cohen on the stereo I will cook a home made soup While you ride the wave of vexation And i can turn the record over And tell you all about The story behind the songs of Cohen Or Joni, Neil or the Band And how The 60’s wouldn’t have happened Without Canada And I will wait for your look That wonderment That you won’t give to those friends Who use you And sing songs from the ...