Poems and other works about Lou Reed


This next poem is written by Sean


Lou Reed
Toby Vamp

His thick, black licorice,
corkscrew hair.
Thin-framed, clear-lens glasses,
upon his stern nose.
Facial lines on the forehead showed
his experience in years.
A midnight slick, leather, biker jacket
revealed he was a Coney Island baby.
Smoked a cigarette as he leaned
against a Canal Street alley wall.
His other hand held by his slim waist,
thumbed through his belt loop;
whereupon his thin legs secured,
beneath solid, raven, jean material.
Stood over the puddles of New York City
in sharp blackened tennis shoes-
He was waiting to play rhythm guitar
in bowery clubs on the Lower East Side.
He was waiting to make that electric guitar
an extension of his body,
like another limb;
like another limb he played
that six-string guitar, cool
as a soft breeze felt on sullen skin,
but hard as a jackhammer into the earth.

Lou Reed lived…
Lou Reed still lives as a legend alive.
Lou Reed is an
American master,
standing against a Canal Street alley wall.

My kind of man -
Lou Reed.



    This painting was made by Helle  


This one is written by Genie



Expulsion and creation

To Lou Reed

Lack of virtue
Endless fall
From world to world
If I don't have it
I create it
If I don't have you
I create you
If I don't have me
I create me



This next Poem is written by Betttina  
Original Dutch version Translated English version
Lou Reed Lou Reed

Je bent er helemaal
je eigen taal, non-verbaal.
Een stem heel dichtbij
speciaal voor jou, mij, zij

Je gerimpeld gezicht.
Jouw levend gedicht
Woorden een verhaal,
muziek klanken taal

Je bent heel gewoon
zonder veel vertoon
heel bijzonder
muziekaal wonder


You are there, totally
In your own language, Non-verbally
A voice so near
Especially for you, for me, and everyone

The lines on your face
are a human work of poetry
Words will form a story
Sounds, lyrics a piece of art

You are the man in the street
not marked so pure so real
So very special…
a musical marvel


Second poem by Genie



To L.R.

Electric compassion of the whisper-screams.
A drug worth all drugs.
A love worth all loves.
An end worth all ends.
I'll give you everything if you ask me nothing in return.

Someone who doesn't care about tomorrow. Neither yesterday.
Neither the possibilities. Neither death.
Only the contrary.