GOD IS DEAD

I smoked the pipe for Lou Reed

and the smoke went up in smoke.

his spirit climbed the walls like

The sword of Damocles', blue mask.

I know where I was when I heard

I got a phone call from my ex wife

saying it said on the news Lou reed

was dead, I was writing a poem called

with-in listening to a Lou reed song

 

called the day john Kennedy died

I stopped and cried.  I woke this

morning raw eyed, maybe I dreamt

there was a point to life and the human

race.  a shadow shimmered like smoke

on the wall, a new day as if a dark shadow

 

was lifted from me, I cant explain but

I felt good in myself, I could hear music

playing in my head.  Like me he loved

reality, the autumn leaves fell outside

I know what I want to do, play Lou.