i’m not sure what you were trying to accomplish
by not looking in those dark corners
they weren’t going to go away
things like that can’t be ignored into oblivion
instead you chose to live a shallow, meaningless existence
never getting close to anyone
surrounded by many unsuspecting people
all of whom would build up your unhealthy ego
the people who most matter kept at arm’s length
to eventually walk away
Fathers and Sons: Love Redux
My dad wasn’t wordy
I can’t remember affection
He never told me he loved me
If he did, I don’t remember it
Strong silent type he was
I grew up quiet
Till I started to speak more
Then everyone wished I’d shut the hell up
My mom told me my dad loved us very much
I wanted to hear it from him
On my wedding day he said it
Collectively in a toast he pronounced his love grandly
I always wanted more from him
I wanted his knowledge, his craft
He’s gone 20 years now
I’m still trying ……
it’s hard to be hip after seventy
abandon hope all ye who enter
keep your opinions from calcifying
and your beliefs will astound you
humor, not memory, is your ally
love and laughter bring others along
honor your white hair and wrinkles
they’ll stay faithful until the end
gather wildflowers
be thankful and rejoice
There’s a hole in my arm–
Where the mind goes
Where the dead howl excretions
Where the blood meets the oily needle
Where memories die
Where heaven touches hell
There is a hole in my arm–
Where the mind goes
Where the soul screams
Where death shouts with applause
Where paradise costs a twenty dollar bill
Where paradise can be reached, touched, for the meanwhile.
the scare tissue, debouched, depraved, reaching for heaven’s bargain
of eternal needles.
There’s a hole in my arm
Where the mind escapes
Where seas foam
Where teeth bite
where the arm is looped off– and the world begins again.
Where the story ends, every time.
More at http://midamericanthought.tumblr.com.
I wish you hadn’t done
All those things, but I’m
Not going to let our history
Dictate who I should be.
You have no power over
Me any longer, nothing
You say can make me do
Anything I don’t want to.
I will walk with confidence,
Look at myself in the
Mirror and remember
Who I am.
This Star of David for people in Exile
For those decimated by centuries of horror
And unimaginable cruelty by dominant cultures
Once symbolized protection from all harm
It is now a star of intolerance and retribution
Hatikva, once a song of hope for the Diaspora
A poem adopted in the 1st Zionist Congress
As a national anthem, it is a warning to neighbors
Of military might without compassion or remorse
An anathema to to people of the West Bank and Gaza
words blur together
congealing
before eyes
brimming
with the sea
held back
by clustered
lashes
a stream spills down
pockmarked cheeks
lined with years
spilling onto
crisp paper
lips tremble
in silent
defeat
as a vice
grips the chest
caved in
from decades of
memories
a wet gaze looks up
at an apparition
from the past
but the present
commands
attention
to itself
it calls for
just a squiggle
on pristine pulp
but hands
paralyzed
with grief
cannot move
threats flew in
that stifling air
biting syllables
that rend
and tear
sign the damned papers
the hand moves
as unvoiced wails
rise up
from that
caved in chest
it is done