Nick Cave Inspired poems by Adrian Ernesto Cepeda

He’s a ghost, a holy godlike guru

Like a preacher 
mad with a microphone
on stage black dressed
unbuttoned cross hangs
chained to his open chest.
Cave’s his name—
through his dark accent
you feel his plight.
With every chord,
the riffs he plays—
the crowd ignites.
He stands like a God
in this house, auditorium,
arena from Jubilee Street
to Tupelo. His British band
plays so loud they can hear
from the clouds all the way
to heaven. Even Methostopolies
loves to feel the burning fury
of his Southern refrains. 
With Cave’s Northern soles 
he prances and romances 
while towering over his disciples
owning this stage; 
when his voice rises—
raging poetry, bible verses
he spits out grooves of insanity
from her to eternity
some of his stanzas 
will save your sins
with the rhymes, epic anthem 
odes to Johnny Cash.
This son of an English professor
pens songs like sonnets, so sinfully
sweet, dedicated for the drowning
and defeated Cave will Nick
your scars as his guitar bleeds.
When you see him live
applause from his electric pulpit
and always scream. Lovers
addicts, tattooed outcasts
heed his choruses, spotlight
untamed. Mad like a preacher
Cave faith has him dropping needles
on vinyl skin, instead of veins. 
Let Nick’s sermons and hymns 
send you inside the skies 
his church is at night
for the price of a ticket
more than a show 
before leaving
all you disbelievers 
definitely will understand—
as this singer extols
spinning reprieves
of his holiest refrains;
as each riff resounds
you can feel Nick’s soul
was saved by the beats as
each night Cave rolls his
tongue with the confessional 
kiss of rock and roll. 

Nick Cave's Spotlight Craving

From a photograph by Ted Grudowsky

He sat at the piano, fingers
touching black and white
keys, matching his tuxedo
colored suit, dark tie and   
an alabaster shirt stained
with sprinkling sweat.
The singer put an Australian
Dunhill cigarette, letting it
dangle in his mouth. After 
playing a few notes, 
he stopped, looking for 
a match under the spotlight,
but there was nothing but
baggage claims, loose leaf
lyrics he scribbled in limo
on the way to the show. 
As the singer fumbled,
in the front row, my balding
friend got up and hurried to the
side of the stage. Taking out his 
antique silver lighter from his 
torn blue jean pocket, Martyn 
in his faded blue Leonard Cohen
t-shirt, reached up from 
seats and magically lit King 
Ink’s ciggy—Cave winked 
and mumbled Thanks mate! 
Looking back down, towards
the keys, the singer grinned 
eyes closed, beginning 
the notes to “And No More
Shall We Part” he exhaled 
smoke— savoring the nicotine 
on his lips, the music echoed 
reigniting the quiet the halls;
as the singer played, we all sat 
mesmerized, watching Nick Cave’s 
fingers becoming entranced again.

Why Fear Her Tears?

Why are all the women weeping?
…They are weeping back at them
—	Nick Cave

Every night I hear La Llorona
grieving outside la Ventana, 
I no longer close the blinds
or cover quivering under
How to sleep, how to sleep
Instead, I take in the chorus 
of her lamenting wails, 
and then una mañana
desperté to find her weeping
like a song spinning on 
an endless vinyl trying to find 
a place where her cries can no 
longer feel dethroned. Cada 
noche, I rise from bed and stroll 
descalso barefoot to la concina, 
reach up for a bowl in la alcana 
cupboard and bring it back 
to my bedroom, leaving it
under my cama mattress,
so, when I hear La Llorona 
weeping, I make sure the bowl 
is empty, if it’s full I pour 
out the pain into an empty
botella, corking each one, 
And when the wind does 
howl and cuando el viento
sopla, bottling every sob, 
I always save for her, keeping 
Them safe as she leaves me
the sweetest of invisible beso 
where her rosas grow wild
kisses on the floor. She knows
I am no longer afraid each night 
I feel her medianoche refrain…
as I quidado carry, trying not
to spill nor leave any trembling
tracks, protecting every huella 
drop of her lagrima tears. 
Don Quixote Driving His Truck

Navigating their way 
on N. Buena Vista Ave 
to Hollywood Airport, 
Burbank, CA…with 
Sancho Panza in 
the passenger seat,
using his iPhone, Don
keeps waxing quixotic
about directions, which
way they should turn. 
Wishing he was still 
on his horse, doesn’t 
like how the truck tries
to swerve onto oncoming 
traffic, Listening to Ghosteen
while scratching every
Nick and scar on his chin
following his inner Cave
imagination, picturing 
bright horses, unholy Jubilee
street corner spirits standing in  
front of the Jesus graffiti on 
the Hollywood sign, Don
loves pushing the sky away
past the skeleton tree, 
as another airliner lifts 
off above them, Sancho 
says go ahead, let’s take 
the fork and see where 
the road leads us towards
our latest mapquest, seeing
the fringy lunatic gaze on
Quixote’s wandering eye,
Don pushes down on 
the pedal like he’s galloping
on his favorite caballo, Yes, 
derecho, my friend, no longer 
lost, with the windows rolled 
down, the maniacal driver roars 
it is time we become legends again. 

Before I Turn Into Gold Online Anthology: 4 poem showcase by Adrian Ernesto Cepeda

A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Adrian Ernesto Cepeda

Bio: Adrian Ernesto is the author of Flashes & Verses… Becoming Attractions from Unsolicited Press, Between the Spine from Picture Show Press and La Belle Ajar & We Are the Ones Possessed from CLASH Books and Speaking con su Sombra with Alegría Publishing. 

His poetry has been featured in Harvard Palabritas, Glass Poetry: Poets Resist, Cultural Weekly, Yes, Poetry, Frontier Poetry, The Fem, poeticdiversity, Rigorous, Luna Luna Magazine, The Wild Word, The Revolution Relaunch and Palette Poetry. 

Adrian lives with his wife and their adorably spoiled cat Woody Gold in Los Angeles.

“Everywhere I go I find a poet has been there before me.”
― Sigmund Freud

2 short poems by Gerald Jatzek “Her Lore” & “Remembrance” and 2 poems inspired by Leonard Cohen “Before I Turn Into Gold Anthology”

brown painted structures

photo by Arthur Yeti (unsplash)

Her Lore

                          for Ingrid
 Litigious we are
in matters
like language,
thought, and other pieces of reality.

But when it comes down
to the sea,
she knows nobody ever ruled the waves.


I came upon that yard.
Water trickled down
from heavy icicles.
The fleas were long gone,

the cat and the man
had left no traces
but a meow and a poem  
that lingered for a while.


You may stand tall against
the Gods of Ur. You may tower
over the kings of Elam and Sodom.

You may trick the pharaoh, lead
your people to fertile soil, bring
peace to the tents, the herds, the waters.

You may be held in high esteem
by the foremost priest. You may talk
to angels and father nations and religions.

And still fall short of protecting your child


I am a man of roads.

I could stay in your house
forever. Still

I'd be a man of roads.

Still I'd stay.

A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interivew with Gerald Jatzek 

Poetry from Anthologies by Gerald Jatzek 

Poetry: Holiday Mass by Gerald Jatzek

Poem by Joe Kidd for “Before I Turn Into Gold Day” inspired by Leonard Cohen

(c) Geoffrey Wren

Banned For Life

born at midnight on a Sadder Day
tossed by a mother fleeing for her life
spirit encrypted in a colorless form
turned out to the diaspora of souls in flight

“where is the world? where is the heart?”
I sang, but nobody here to listen
this beginning of pain, is the end of suffering
universe breathing in and out

we are not here now, no never again
to nurse from the flesh of the one who made us
disappear then, before I kiss your cheek
this warning comes from one who has lived

and discovered the voice of the transparent sphere
the walk of ages, crowds and faces

oh the joy, this symphony
this martyrdom, sainthood, prophesied
seclusion, illusion, delusion, more
the bread of life that created war

now it is finished
forgiven and forgotten
the skeletons have gone to rest
trampled by the invited guests
inhabit now, each secret place
forever falling through secret space
no mind of indulgence
no eye to light
this eternal paradise
banned for life

Bio: Joe Kidd is a working poet, singer, songwriter, and musician. Touring North America and Western Europe. Inducted into the Michigan Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame in 2017. In 2020, published The Invisible Waterhole, a collection of spiritual and sensual verse. He has been awarded by the Michigan Governor’s Office and the US House of Representatives for his work to advance Peace, Social Justice, and Cultural Diversity. Joe is a speech writer, and a music, poetry, and film reviewer for international magazines and websites.

Author Page:
Official Website:

A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Joe Kidd

All of the poems (revised) from Avalanches in Poetry for Leonard Cohen Week by David L O’Nan

5 poems inspired by Leonard Cohen by Robert Frede Kenter (Before I Turn Into Gold Day)

2 poems by Richard LeDue for Before I Turn Into Gold Day

Leonard Cohen and Edie Sedgwick at the Chelsea Hotel by Joan Hawkins

Love Poem #2 by Sarah Marquez in Avalanches in Poetry Writings & Art Inspired by Leonard Cohen

A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with R&B Musician Tasha Taylor

with Tasha Taylor:

Q1: When did you start writing and first influences?

Tasha: I started writing when I was 14. My first influence was my father’s music. Johnnie Taylor was my dad, he was a Stax artist.

Q2: Who are your biggest influences today?

Tasha: I still love the greats: Aretha, Etta James, Bobby Blue Bland. I also love Leon Bridges, Lauryn Hill, Drake, HER and so many newer artists.

Q3: Any pivotal moment when you knew you wanted to be a writer/artist/musician?

Tasha: I grew up on the road with my dad, watching him perform from the side of the stage as a kid was all I needed to know this was what I wanted to do.

Q4: Who has helped you most with writing?

Tasha: I write solo and produce my own sic. Listening to great writers always helps.

Q5: Where did you grow up and how did that influence your work?

Tasha: I grew up in Dallas, Texas.

Q6: What do you consider your most meaningful work you’ve done creatively so far to you?

Tasha: My record TAYLORMADE was a sort of tribute to my dad, so it holds a lot of meaning for me

Q7: Favorite activities to relax?

Tasha: Painting>

Q8: What is a favorite line/stanza from a song/poem/writing of yours or others?

Tasha: “When you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.” Albert Einstein

Q9: Any recent or forthcoming projects that you’d like to promote?

Tasha: Yes, working on a new record now.

Other links to Tasha’s music:

A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with musician Jennifer Sonntag

with Jennifer Sonntag:

Social media links:






Q1: When did you start writing and first influences?

Jennifer: When did I start writing is a deceptively simple question. I’ve been engaged in the process of writing probably since I fell in love with language at around four years old. Certain memories stand out, like finding that different letters could make the same sound or could change their sound when combined with other letters. I very clearly remember marvelling that language held the power of god. The texture and rhythm of language was a revelation. As a kid I wrote poems and then as a teen, piano pieces, then was in a punk band and a band where I was the only girl. My bandmates influenced me, their style, exuberance, dedication. I started playing guitar then, but didn’t sing until later. Aside from classical piano I loved goth and electronica, rock, punk, blues. Orbital, The Cocteau Twins, PJ Harvey, NIN, The Cure, PIL.

Q2: Who are your biggest influences today?

Jennifer: I’m an interdisciplinary omnivore. Anyone from Velvet Underground and PJ Harvey to Alice Coltraine, Nina Simone, Fever Ray. Poets: Anne Carson, Basho, Rilke. Usually influence is about inspiration. I find it often outside of music. Writers like Lydia Davis and Garielle Lutz. Directors like Terrence Malick or Guillermo Del Toro or Bi Gan. I find I write from dialogue a lot. An exchange or phrase will stick with me and act like a starter dough for a sonic mood or thought that wants translating and expansion. Also, nothing is better for writing than walking. But I spent a lot of time at Columbia working on a doctorate, so I’ve had to pare down influences in order to find my own voice, too. Listening as un-listening.

Some of my biggest influences are the artists in my life as well as the people around me who, in their demonstrative or quiet way, encourage me to keep making art. We need artists so much right now. Art has vivifying effects on the individual as well as the culture. If the world doesn’t fall into fascism it’ll be in part due to artists’ ability to synthesize forces–i.e. love–successfully, offering an alternative to hate.

Q3: Any pivotal moment when you knew you wanted to be a writer/musician?

Jennifer: I first wanted to be an artist probably the first time I performed music with other people in front of an audience, in high school–where I felt the presence of a larger consciousness among the musicians communicating in real time, or even ahead of time, and it was instinctual–we were becoming a new organism. As far as singing goes, that was different, later. I’d made up some terrible song and sang it for someone and it was like a conversion experience. I just broke down in joy.

Q4: Who has helped you most with your career?

Jennifer: I’ve discovered that artists really do have to find the conditions and people that help make the work happen. Sometimes that can take a while. It’s more psychological than anything else, for me. With music, I have a handful of people who have provided unconscious and conscious help. My mother and maternal grandmother had lovely singing voices and sang a lot during my childhood. Barbara Maier Gustern, my vocal coach, is a big wise kid who helps me with architecture and technique. My psychoanalyst Raul Garcia really helps me keep open a space for creative exploration. And Barb Morrison, who produced my recent track, is an all around inspiration and genius. I had wonderful, supportive, brilliant professors in the academy who encouraged and inspired me and taught me how to think critically and slow down as a writer, which can be really important for creative work. John McClure at Rutgers. Edward Said, Gauri Viswanathan, and Ann Douglas at Columbia.

Q5: Where did you grow up and how did that influence your writing/music & did any travels away from home influence your work?


I grew up in Washington and NJ. The trees, topography, were a great influence–honestly is there any artist who isn’t in continuous communication with non-human nature? Especially now? The mostly public schools I attended were, thankfully, diverse. I was introduced to a lot of rap, soul, and funk along with the post-punk I adored.

I do love traveling. Just before covid lockdown I’d been in Berlin, Dublin, London, Amsterdam. I spent much of the last year in Oaxaca. I love Oaxaca–its kindness, humor, the spirit of solidarity, the beautiful formality in conversations, its aesthetic and artisanal traditions. The color and patterns and textures are so alive. I got in touch with my shit, there. I mean that quite literally. You can’t just flush everything away, out of sight. Every morning you haul your rapidly decomposing garbage down the street to chat with your neighbors while waiting for the garbage truck. You get to be in touch with a lot more of the spectrum of experience. For the traveler, everything’s ‘off,’ rearranged or deranged in a new way, with new people, and that makes for a semi-controlled tumult of stimuli. Traveling is a great generator of experience.

Q6: What do you consider your most meaningful work you’ve done creatively so far to you?

Jennifer: After I stopped work on my dissertation and had been writing music for a few years, just experimenting but kind of committed to it, my nephew Kody died of an overdose. He was scheduled to go to rehab the next morning but decided to go out with friends one last time. This was the first year of the Trump regime, everything was already so dark. Losing him was horrible. When I got the call I was out and I just fell onto the sidewalk. When I flew back from his memorial I went to bed for ten hours, woke up talking to him, grabbed some earbuds and recorded the conversation. A few years later, when Barb produced the song, we were able to preserve that initial mood really well. We even used some of the demo vocals that I’d recorded on the cheap earbuds. It was an important part of grieving for me. Details like that matter for historical and artistic integrity. I’m proud of the song, but I’m also proud that I was able to follow my own inner demand to create something while in a very raw state.

Q7: Favorite activities to relax?

Jennifer: Few things are better than a meal with friends at home on my patio or at Rucola in Brooklyn.

Q8: What is a favorite line/stanza from a poem/writing of yours or others?

Jennifer: I keep in mind Blake’s line “expect poison from the standing water.” Being truly alive obliges a certain grace for change. Blake understood this principle of mutability; it feels good to remember it.

Q9: Any recent or forthcoming projects that you’d like to promote?

Jennifer: I’m working on a video for my recent track, Simple Things, and making new music.