On a night exactly two years ago we were sitting at the Roloi bar down
in Hydra's harbor,playing the guitars and celebrating L.Cohen's poetry
and music (and by coincidence my own birthday).
Unfortunately this time I can't be with you so here follows a poem
that
I'd like to read in one of the upcoming Event's open mic sessions if I
were there:
"Fun de Siecle" written by the one and only Roger Green on the
occasion of his fifty-seven birthday and taken from his most recent
book "HYDRA AND THE BANANAS OF LEONARD: A SEARCH FOR SERENITY IN THE
SUN"
Have all a nice Leonard Cohen Event.
I am sure that New York will top Hydra in the way that Hydra topped
Montreal.
Demetris
Fun de Siecle
I'm just another pilgrim
From the land of damp gymkhanas
Led by the warm wind blowing
Through Leonard Cohen's bananas
I'm going on fifty-seven
So the nymphs had better hurry
Or they'll miss their chance to savor
My less than perfect body
If you come here with a purpose
You will not fulfill your needs here
There are jewels in Dirty corner
But the Donkey Shit still leads there
And Orpheus gathers garbage
While the angels sing hosannas
Through the elephant-ear leaves
I went down to the harbor
I was looking for my father
But all I found was Jesus
And he said that he would rather
Do anything than stay here
And he asked me which was finer:
To take a Flying back to Poros
Or a slow boat to Aegina
Everywhere our boats are burning
Torched by winos in bandannas
As the wind rattles the rigging
Of Leonard Cohen's bananas
There are children in the Salt Mines
With an Indian squaw singing
A runic incantation
Ach, hot tears my cheeks are stinging
And Bill's Bar is full of phantoms
Among the dusty sponges
Sleepwalkers who've forgotten
Their bend-defying plunges
And always there's a danger
That if the walls prove wonky
The balladeer's bananas
Will be eaten by a donkey
Et toujours il y a le danger
Que les rois de l'ile, lea anes
Demolissent les murs pour manger
De Cohen les bananes
The Millennial Olympics
Happened in a hotel suite as
I prepared to leave the island
Fortified with margaritas
And love is what we long for
And longing can't discover
But if we don't look behind us
We may yet surprise a lover
Yes, everybody comes here
With their personal nirvanas
Which are as transient as the wind
In Leonard Cohen's bananas
Which are as transient as the wind
And Leonard Cohen's bananas...
A poem to be read at an open mic in New York
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