A Poem from Zaire

A reader from Zaire (how many do we have??) says this is his first attempt at poetry. He says he’ll be blogging soon.

This effort has given him the impetus to try his hand at song-writing, too.

Way to go, Zaire! When your blog is up and running, send us a link.

The Baron

The Baron is an arms-dealer,
His ammunition hurts
He equips those that seek,
Those that see the truth
With ammunition to strike back

The frontline is the Internet
His radar scans the world
Signals come from all over
Sweden, Denmark, York
Especially hotspots of the world

He initiates his systems
Knowledge, humor, persistence his artillery
Blogged words the shells

Decoys cannot fool him
The enemy is in his sights

His allies cannot feel despondent
For his humor brings them merriment

Listen to the Baron’s words
As the tide of the information war
Swings westward once again!

Well now. I say, “move over, Leonard Cohen.”


5 thoughts on “A Poem from Zaire

  1. I am a big fan of his despite his malign narcissism. He represents an age and time that has irrevocably passed…and yet he remains…

    There are children in the morning
    They are leaning out for love
    And they will lean that way forever…

  2. This was a great thing to post!

    Zaire Poet – Great stuff, very well done, especially for your first one. Great message and positive, uplifting, empowering with strong images. Please keep writing and always go back to it, you’ll just get better and better!

    Also, it’s good to read that people in Zaire are visiting the Gates.
    Good luck with your blog and your songs, be careful out there, stay safe.

    absurd thought –
    God of the Universe hates
    infidel poets…

  3. Dymphna:

    Liking Leonard Cohen must be a woman thing — NeoNeocon and the Anchoress are also fans of his, despite the political differences.

    Is it that low, raspy voice that women like — kind of a white, Jewish Barry White with more poetic lyrics?

  4. Nice, Zaire!

    The Baron has been knighted!


    Cohen’s got some of the most evocative lines in modern song. (“Her hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm“.)

    Matching, in positive, Ezra Pound’s somber “The apparition of these faces in the crowd, petals on a wet, black bough“.

    And Leonard C. has some sublime, minimalist melodies to carry his words even deeper.

    (Pound was a loon, but his talent was real. Cohen’s ‘politics’ I’ve never followed.)

    Sometimes the art exceeds the vessel.

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