The Broken Hallelujah

For the Loving
the Loathing
and the target
who never stops moving
For all the hurt who fell
chasing their own tail
through a reflection glistening
Four sheets to the wind
and under the full sail
of a fevered imagination

Plying the streets
of dark heat
where children
of the strange meet
An all consuming congregation
of a frantic orchestration
As the angelic
weep for the sheep
led to feed upon the weeds
of manic condemnation
For the bad seeds
with all their good deeds
For those cast aside
set adrift, and forsaken
For the misspent youth
and the seeker of truth
. . . sadly mistaken
All searching for
the unspoken Hallelujah

The loving
and the loathing
A liar was talking
I stopped to listen
A thief came prowling
Life itself being stolen
A bully accusing
who seems to know something
condemning every single
simple little thing
Me about you
… you about me
who knows absolutely nothing
Does love divine cover
a multitude of sin?
Don’t look
for a rolling stone
to give you shelter
Thank God
In Christ
we are forgiven
Yet the bad times
ne’er forgotten
I am the broken Hallelujah

All the loving
and the loathing
of my youthful roaming
taking flight
Second to the left
and straight on till evening
To a place where
the sheer might of delight
makes everything
seem right
The peacocks of my past
now vultures feeding
in a maze of spite
Where the Prince de Phobia
rules by the haze of night
Where the days are ablaze
and way too bright
But just as darkness
flees the light
I heard the Word
and I fought the fight
Now older, wiser
… and hanging on tight
for the Prince of Peace
He is within my sight
No mistaking
… not forsaken
I am the broken Hallelujah

For the loving
and the loathing
For the seeker exploring
who never made it back
For the boundary rider
who went off track
in hot pursuit
of forbidden fruit
The ecstasy and the agony
For the visionary
who only sees black
For the dreamer, forever
caught in a trance
The force of nature
caught without pants
For the lost and excluded
praying for a chance
For those alone
in secret places
with the hard drive ghosts
of a thousand faces
For those too far gone
to maintain the pretence
There is a Lord
over every circumstance
Not some token Hallelujah

For the poet reluctant
silenced in the presence
The Spirit of Holiness
Christ Consciousness
whispering wholeness
for all those who don’t
have their shit together
No matter the weather
over your satellite antenna
Be anxious for no such thing
For in Jesus
we have the real thing
The original and genuine
the most holy and gracious King
From the burning lips
and fractured hearts of men
has there ever been
a Holy Hallelujah?
I’ve not heard it yet
from my air raid shelter
Be the becoming
the overflowing Hallelujah

The Loving
and the loathing
The listening
The growing
The being still and knowing
From earthbound zero
to supernatural hero
Second to the right
and straight on till morning
Beyond all human understanding
more precious than gold
that sacred silence down below
Seizing back the power
from whence it was taken
The figment of fear
forever, to be forgotten
A race in the running
redeeming this final hour
The Mercy Spill
from Calvary’s hill
throughout this earthly maze
… may God be praised
with a broken Hallelujah

I am on a journey
searching this side of eternity
reaching deep within me
seeking foremost and solely
for that Holy … Hallelujah

~ by david redpath © 2017

¤ In Memory of Leonard Cohen

First published on WordPress 9/11/17

Image: ‘The Pietà’ by Michelangelo

PhotoArt: david Redpath © 2017

75 thoughts on “The Broken Hallelujah”

  10. Brilliantly written poem with such a powerful message. It resonates in my heart.
    Love these lines:
    “For the lost and excluded
    praying for a chance
    For those alone
    in secret places
    with the hard drive ghosts
    of a thousand faces
    For those too far gone
    to maintain the pretence
    There is a Lord
    over every circumstance
    Not some token Hallelujah”

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

  14. This is an amazing tribute to Leonard Cohen. You took me on a journey through my past where it felt like I was seeing myself over and over again, and everyone, and you. Your poems are like roses that, from the first word, get planted in my heart and hook their thorns in deep and those thorns always cause me pain because of all the longing I have for peace, for certainty – for Him. I don’t mind the pain so much. Your roses are beautiful. ♥.

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

    1. Flowing Niki,
      sorry if my words
      get a bit prickly.
      Glad to know
      you appreciate
      ‘Pop’s Poet Laureate’.
      Some called him
      the ‘Godfather of Gloom’
      & the ‘High Priest of Pathos’
      … but whatever,
      losing the Leonard
      was a great loss.

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

      1. You’re most welcome David. I didn’t give my brain time to think about them so they came straight from my heart. =) I find that’s usually best. My brain tends to muck things up. ^_^ ♥.

        Liked by 1 person

  17. A superbly majestic poetic tribute in honour of Leonard Cohen, David.
    I love all the great imagery and poetic lines throughout.
    I particularly love those lines,
    “The peacocks of my past
    now vultures feeding
    in a maze of spite.”
    How very very true in all our lives.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. Thank you very much, Christopher.
      That line was inspired
      by the Spanish proverb;
      ‘Raise ravens and they’ll pluck out your eyes’.
      Carlos Saura used the saying
      as the theme for his Post Franco movie masterpiece,
       ‘Cría cuervos’.

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  23. After this masterpiece has been covered to death and beyond it is most refreshing to read your punchy rendition.
    Took me on a trip, one of those you don’t plan, but that are happening anyway and all you can do is take in the scenery with all the good, the bad, the ugly and the mad.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

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