Remembering Lou Reed, Poet~Musician~Pioneer

Lou Reed

 

PLAYING MUSIC lS NOT LIKE ATHLETICS

Playing music is not like athletics:
One may improve with age.
The untrained mind with natural talents
reflects the part and never the whole
it is too narrow to perceive itself.
Its goals erase themselves.

May I have your ear, that
curlicued receptor of sound?
(If this were Rome we could be so grand).

The movement from instinct to calculation is quite profound
You’ve listened and been more than a tape recorder.
Talent carries its own weight;
the intellect it weds determines greatness.
Our age is such that we must fight off fat.
One hopes the mind outlasts the skin.

If this is true,
I’II say goodbye to me,
and say hello to
yet another you.

Hooky Wooky CD single, 1996

Lou Reed, 1996
Photo: Renaud Monfourny, Les Inrockuptibles, no. 45

WASTE

Sometimes when I’m all alone
I feel a type of fear
dawn’s descending, dusk is breaking
creep my darling near.
I see my life before me
as a seamstress sees her pins
fulland linedwithfailure
and coated then with sin.
An education gone to waste
talent left ignored
imagination rent with drugs
someone who’s always bored
scared to death of life itself
but even more by death
not fit company for anyone
let alone a wife
no example for a child
therefore no sun for me
I am told never to think these thoughts
for they make me unhappy.

The sin was craziness you see
don’t blame yourself for that –
a strange childhood, wel1 that is true
but nothing can be done about that.
The future is the same for all
we face it as we can
and there is nothing wrong with fear
it proves that you’re a man.

Then other times I feel so good
the opposite you see
I think I’m full of talent
good old intuitive me.
I write all hours of the night
terrible poetry.
Others say that it is good
but they are lying to me.
Why would they lie, you might ask
and to this I would reply
encouraging me encourages them,
to cut me shows their lie.
For mine was illusion of life well spent,
everyone thought so.
I was courted as a rake
wherever I did go.
But I know warts, you can’t fool me
with flattering and praise.
You sing my songs to prove to yourselves
that you are not a waste.

THOUGHTS TURN TO MURDER LATE AT NIGHT

We can learn to murder in the early hours
mulling over dour fate
technology offering its endless alternatives:
poisons, boxes spewing chemicals.
And yet
in murder
we return to the odious spectacle of physical expression –
I’ll break you neck;
I’ll break your back
thinking unacquired savagery.

Karate is a special kind of dance.
Who pulverizes someone else’s bones
has lifted violence to the level of
an art,
which, unlike ballet,
does not require the total man.

Magic And Loss, Metal Memorial Edition CD, 1992

P U R P O S E

 

 

Among saints & sinners,

Good & evil

God & Satan

Nothing matters.

Among books filled with

Words, conformed and

Pressed into a small child’s

Mind

 

Nothing matters.

Among the shadows,

Self-esteem cut down by

Authority and the egos of

Those who have murdered and

Buried their dreams

Nothing matters.

Among the opinions & speculations,

Expectations ten long years after

Who is the failure and what

Is contentment

Nothing matters.

Among the critics and

The sad petty levelers

The damned & the damning

Nothing matters.

Among the forgotten,

The wild actions of a

Once uncaring, unconscious youth

Nothing matters.

Among the depressed, the once

Suicidal who couldn’t

Find his place in reality’s schemes

Nothing matters.

Among the conquests,

Among the losses & unreal lovers,

The young women made love to and the

False makeup queens soul-fucking in the

Aftermath of ruins & chaos and the

Human heart

Nothing matters.

And among the love given and

Taken, created & destroyed,

Possessed and disowned

Nothing matters.

For these words … are my religion,

This voice … is my church,

This poetry … is my existence

And nothing else matters.

 

R.M. Engelhardt   

 

THE DAY GOD BECAME POPULAR

goddrinkingcoffee

We were hanging out drinking a few shots with
that asshole Metastopholies.
He (as usual) was trying to boug a few drinks, and (as
usual) we..ignored him. At work as usual it was one
long fucking day. I was stuck putting up the sequoias
and disagreed; God liked red, I..liked black. And
somehow the boss (I won’t use her real name) told us
that our work was getting “sloppy’. Too many species,

she said, too many ferns, something like that. You are
always spending way too much time arguing and I’ll
have to let one of you go, the temporal mental bitch
said. “Fine!” I said, “I quit!” Buddha, Muhammad and a
few others were already gone and had decided to start
their own companies. And me, well I was just tired of
all of the insipid & corporate shit where the motto
was “Heaven… we care”. And this action left God whom I
always thought to be a pretty decent kid in general,
to run the factory. And for awhile we kept in touch.
“How’s it goin?” I’d ask and he’d say “Great, but I’m
really busy” “We’ll get together for a beer sometime,
ok?” Ok. But more & more the silence increased. Never
a reply back, never a how are you and never a word through the
psychic dimensional thought. Eventually I found out
that God had taken over and that he had been bumped
up. It figures…I thought. He always was more of the
corporate type than me.

Its been awhile now and I haven’t heard from him in a
few eons. I heard that he never really recovered from
that incident with his kid. Stay away from beautiful
women, we told him, stop trying to be a hero. But he,
never listened and almost…lost everything. Recently I
transformed myself into a man and I caught a glimpse
of him in a bar in NY City. Timothy McVey had just
blown up the federal building with children in it and
God was sitting drunk on a bar stool drinking red
wine. He was really fucked up and he had aged
something awful. “Bartender! Give me another fucking
glass!” he said. They kicked him out and he
disappeared stumbling into the night. I was saddened.
The firm is going under and he’s losing control, other
power hungry kids are creating technology & spirit
advances. God’s becoming an antique, but I know he
won’t retire. Me, well don’t worry about me. I’ll be
fine. These days I’m living as a cat owned by a girl
going thru a tough time. I know where I’m needed. And
even though no one remembers all of the work that I’ve
done its alright. The cycles of the universe go on
because love, redemption and faith never stop and
never die.

Oh and by the way, do you like coffee? Good…that was
MY idea!

__________________
R.M. ENGELHARDT