There is a certain futility when ensconced in an idyllic, yet ever so tedious Nirvana only to be consumed with wanderlust. A contradiction? I think not. Whatever, Nirvana was not for her, this she already knew, or thought she knew, all too well. Moreover, and in her heart of hearts she was well aware, having skimmed through the rainbows-end’s all-knowing communiques, that beyond the far horizon lay a place of delectable debauchery. In short, the chastity of her current divine abode was insufficient and that was an undeniable fact. The grass is always greener, and what worth immortality without gaiety; without carnal passion? It was thus that she packed a bag with the merest sufficiency of ‘this and that’ and took of her leave. Oh yes, I nearly forgot, ‘her name’, a debatable subject, as it varied from night to night and hardly mattered anyway.
I first met with her in the filthy…in more ways than one…surroundings of Babylon, a revelation to one and all who arrived at this destination from a ‘safer’ place where love trumped lust. Tiresome that that could be, it mattered; it mattered a lot to the so-called blasphemous many. At the very least, Babylon was a centre for sensual pleasure where lust held sway.
Not long after her arriving I became aware that she’d elected to live here until hell froze over, as would a fish to water. In doing so, what a relief for her as she’d never have to join the virtuous coy brigade ever again, for now she would find debauched nourishment feasting upon the willing flesh of male or female…in essence, echoing me, me the renowned Libertine.
Of course I warned her that the brew of licentiousness comes from a bottle that one day would run dry. She cared not. She had uninhibited lovers far and wide, me included, in their proud number. The thing is she over looked that time plays unbelievable games. She didn’t understood that, poor girl.
Regardless, I had not come across her for what seemed like an age until, during the hours of lecherous darkness, I found her revelling in the company of wanton degenerates in some cheap bar just this side of Gehenna. Once duly sated she took a breather. We got to chat to catch up on ‘this, that and the other’. Eventually, the time came to bid her farewell. At that she, called me back; grasped my hand imploring, ‘Take me back to Nirvana, I forgotten how to get there. This game I have been playing no longer suits’. My face, at first quizzical, then quite blank, when I told her, “Surely you know, there is no going back.”
For the record, the last I heard of her she was making a small fortune selling her wares to the adult sons and daughters of Saint Wickedness, in a ritzy bordello on the Serpent’s Boulevard. Was she content? I didn’t know. As I said before, ‘there’s no going back’, so she had to derive pleasure from the demanding bastards like me. Such is a deathless life.
Copyright © 2023. All rights reserved save for Mr Cohen & Unknown Artist. Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, and lending, prohibited.
46 thoughts on “SERPENT’S BOULEVARD”
Well shared .👏
Fine. Really great last paragraph, Mike.
Cheers, Chris. Much appreciated. Regards, Mike
I am glad I didn’t miss this. The language is so fabulously rich. Thank you Mike
Cheers, young Ms S. Glad you liked it. I finished a new book a week back so time has come to blog properly again. It keeps me sane. Hopefully. Anyway, I’ve Scottish one I’ll post soon. The Scots win out, so no worries there. I hope all is well with you and yours. Regards, The Old Fool
xxxxxxx Long as you, Shirl and George are good , that is all I want to know xxx
My thanks. We’re good. I live with many pills, but have got used to it. Oh for decent weather. ‘Tis so cold here today…just like yesterdat etc. etc. All the best, Mike
It’s been pretty bitter this year,
The sign above the door reads, “Mike Steeden,I know I shouldn’t but I thorn the handle, cautiously step through and am transported to another world.
turn not thorn, c’est la vie
Cheers, Sir. ‘Tis a bad call when she leaps over the horizon not knowing what she’ll find on the other side. Thanks again, Mike
Great story and accompanying song. Have you heard Cohen’s “You Want it Darker”? That one sends chills down my spine.
Love that song. Me too. It so moving.
My thanks, Jai. I’m, long since…me being ancient…a follower of Leonard Cohen, even now he’s gone. I think I must have all his books, plus books written about him, and on top of that I have every album he ever made. The man was a genius. If I had to choose just one song I’d go for, ‘Famous Blue Raincoat’. By the way, I follow your blog, but like 50+ others, you never appear in my ‘Reader’. I wish WP could rectify this issue. All the best, Mike aka The Old Fool
I’ll have to check out Famous Blue Raincoat…don’t believe I’ve heard it.
On me not showing up in your reader, that happens to me too; some, I have to follow by email.
And just so you know, l’m no spring chicken either. 😊
Famous Blue Raincoat is an interesting number. The lyrics are written as if a letter. Hope you like it. I’ll have to go the email route…not sure how to do that, so I’ll get my son to do it for me. Regards, Mike
I listened to the song, and do like it. You know, for years I’ve been familiar with the name of Leonard Cohen in regard to music but had never listened to his work. Thank you for bringing him to my attention. I’ll be listening to more.
Most odd. I added my email i.e. email@example.com yet WP say ’tis not an email! I’ve used said email since the old King died. Any ideas?
Check your email and see if there’s an email asking you to confirm subscription to my site. If there is, click confirm. I tried to subscribe you by email, and WordPress said there’s a pending subscription. The email could be in your spam folder, so check everywhere if it isn’t in your primary.
Thanks for the advice. I’ve tried this and that without success. This is definitely a job for my son. I’ll catch him later and he can sort it out. Regards, Mike
I love the language it reminds of the 1940s. It might have just been seeing the cover picture. The women were half naked, men fully dressed including hat and tie. 🤷♀️
My thanks, Paula. Funny you should mention the 1940’s. The book I’ve just about finished covers that decade, as were my previous two tomes. Most odd. Again, my thanks, Mike aka The Old Fool
The image was perfectly chosen to accompany this delicious tale, Mike.
Best wishes, Pete.
My thanks, Pete. Glad you liked it. Regards, Mike
Leonard Cohen and a good story. It is a good morning, Mike.
Thanks for that. Much appreciated.
A tale of debauchery, always a delight. Take care and best regards. Holly
My thanks, young Holly. On a different subject aren’t dogs stupide sometimes. Our little Rosie scoffed cat pooh in the garden yesterday. She’s been sick from midnight to morning. She and ‘us’ have been up all night, poor thing. The things we do for dogs. What we’d give for a few hours back in bed.
I once had a dog, a little Beagle, she was notorious for eating other dogs poop. It never made her sick. In her defense when my Dad said it was disgusting I told him “ she doesn’t do that anymore “ whereupon he replied , “ she doesn’t do it any less”. She didn’t really care for cat poop. Apparently they think it’s food. Perhaps some Kaopectate would help . I hope you guys get some sleep and Rosie is back to her old self and has learned her lesson.
I do like dogs. I enjoy talking to them. Rosie recovered quite well yesterday. Her energy returned, not so us. After a long run around the harbour’s beach, then later, the fields and forest she settled down. We didn’t get a rest, save for the fact we took to our beds at 8pm, and slept like ‘dogs’. Being a lurcher, at least, on a normal night, once more she slept for 11 hours.
I’m glad Rosie made a full recovery. I hope things are back to normal with you guys!
Nice post dear friend!
Too good bro😉💕👍
My thanks, Sir
My pleasure! Please do visit my page too!
Have a good day😊
Hi Mike, if you watch today you’re on the gobblers side of Magazine. Thanks Regards Juan
An awesome composition and creative masterpiece!! I love the title and the surreal journey. 💓☀️⚡️💫
My thanks. Appreciated.
Leonard’s is a perfect song for this piece, TOF.
I suppose one could say, she made her bed and is now she’s lying in it, with both definitions.
Is she happy though? I couldn’t decide, so I left the tale ending with a quandary. ‘Tis a strange old world in both fact and fiction. All the best, TOF
Happy…. I don’t know either, no feeling either way..
Such is a deathless life… what a fantastic final phrase. 👌
My thanks. Regards, Mike