I want to feel
Whatever it is that you people feel
When I see you walking along with a smile
When you pull someone close and they accept the embrace
When you try to stifle it but the laughter escapes anyway
When it’s been too long, you hug them, and tears cover your face
I want to feel
Some kind of connection within
Less like I do and more like you
More like a pea in a pod, and less like a leek in the pot
More like the sun in the sky than another star in the night
Less like this smog-ridden air and more like a summer breeze on the beach
I just want to feel
Anything
Introspective
Reconciliation and Recompense
The person I hate isn’t you
It’s the construct of you I’ve created in my head
So really, it’s just me I hate
And you might’ve forgiven me
But I don’t think I ever did
For the crime committed
It’ll never be forgotten
It has shaped the husk of a ‘man’
Living here as I stand
So, like your grandfather, I’m ready for the end.
All I’ve got to do
Pull the trigger and dream away
The person I loved wasn’t you
It was a version of you I’d dreamed of
So really, you were just a fantasy
Another one of my escapist ploys
To dissuade me from living in this world
I wasn’t a real boy
Strings were still attached
Controlled by the puppet master
So, here I am, finally ready to cut the strings
It’s all I’ve left to do
Snip away and fall into the abyss
An Open Letter To A Past Mistake
What would you say if I told you that I’ve written about you? Would you like it? Or, would you simply dismiss it as so many others have? … As I once did to you … I’m sorry; I was preoccupied. I didn’t let myself live in the real world. I was stuck in the fantasy I had created for myself in years previous. And now, it’s too late. Isn’t it? Oh, can we go back to the grass that beautiful Shabbat in Jerusalem? I’m so sorry I didn’t make you feel every bit of how beautiful you were, you are. Now that I at least have the words to say, it’s too late. You’ve surpassed me. You’re this wonderful intelligent giant, and I’m but a grasshopper skittering about at your feet. You occasionally look down with a warm smile marveling at my meek existence. And again, I’m sorry for I have self-imposed this silence between us. I think it’s because I feel ashamed for not letting you in. You were my manic pixie dream girl, but this isn’t a Woody Allen movie…
Dear Reader
Dear Reader,
How do I tell her
That I’ve been chasing her
Ever since high school
But not this
Who she’s become
That I’ve been chasing her
Ever since high school
But not this
Who she’s become
Who she was then
Not that that was all that great
I mean, she was all that
But I left me high and dry
She moved on into the arms of some other guy
And used me to facilitate
Her hand right into his left
Now I’m boiling over; full of hate
Eyes out the window, contemplating all that is
How do I tell me
That it’s all my fault
Without bending and breaking to the wind
Whispered from her lips
But not this
Who I’ve become
That it’s all my fault
Without bending and breaking to the wind
Whispered from her lips
But not this
Who I’ve become
Versus who I was then
Not that I’m worth a shit
Or ever really was, admirable
And I left her just when I’d changed her mind
Knowing it’s my right that I’m right, about this
Her, or my, inevitable lackluster
Disappointment in one or the other
Now I’m welling up; eyes full of tears
Blurring all in sight, setting it all askew
How do I tell the tale
That has transpired
Without betraying
Any of our faults
And all that we’ve become?
That has transpired
Without betraying
Any of our faults
And all that we’ve become?
Sorry…
Well, I set out with this
to apologize
but I’m already thinking: Me
and how I fucked it all up
It was my mistake to make
You played your part on this stage
I missed the cue
You set the pace in this dance
My feet misstepped
You’re the one who smiled
I was too busy looking at the camera
And now you’re not
Well, you’re not here
I never gave you the reason to be
And you
You’re happy or something
I think of you leaning back
in a summer dress
wine glass in hand
mid-guffaw with class
Or in your jeans
at some downtown bar
a band plays in the back
the stool next to you
empty at last…
But what would I do with it?
What I didn’t before?
I Am The Moon
I am the moon, scattered amongst the ebb and flow
All of the shiny pieces to be taken in, collected
Admired, from afar as so many have dreamt, and intimately as only the bravest few have tread
Though I am stuck in this earthly embrace, this dance in space
That princely parapet with whom only dreamers in the night connect
Tempered
Tempered in the fires of society
you’ve been kept in line
within the confines
that they’ll allow
between their predefined
thresholds of deviation
Anything less or more
is left to be moored
by the police-authority
Because you wouldn’t play their game
you refused to pursue
their evangelical
greed for the purse, the money
the proposal of the self
before anything else
You’d rather burn Wall Street
than to walk it in stride
alongside the “apex” life
with an all-too-socialized bride
What? You think your’re original?
That Greek gem,
The Roman puppy,
Your favorite contemporary
have all done this already
You’re stuck sucking from their teat
You just take in their art
process it on a whim
then shit it out with your own
petty pseudo-witty veneer
You’ve let them contain you
in this transparent cage
though less like the diamond you’d prefer
and more like the glass ceiling you’d defer
right back to those who created it
from their palaces up on the hill
they look down without
seeing those they forced supplicant
living in blissful ignorance
We could burn the hill down
melt this rustic cage
if only I could escape this maze
this amaranthine labyrinth
that’s so tragically beautiful
the way it captures my gaze
soon to spit me out
from within its spinneret
in being and mind, wholly new
as a zombie like all of you
Sappho — Catullus — Zachor
Here, the one who is god-like
exceeding great cosmic power
because they command your attention
exceeding great cosmic power
because they command your attention
although not through force
Your laughter — only it can wrench
my heart from depression darkest
For when my gaze meets yours, my voice has
my heart from depression darkest
For when my gaze meets yours, my voice has
forgotten its place
Tongue swallowed whole, and within
lava bubbles to the pores of my skin,
thunder of the gods cannot be heard, the veil
lava bubbles to the pores of my skin,
thunder of the gods cannot be heard, the veil
has concealed my eyes
Tepid sweat envelops, my person rattled
throughout, as bereft as the dead
as I am and inert — as the dirt
throughout, as bereft as the dead
as I am and inert — as the dirt
covering this Earth
Torpor, Zachor, is your enemy true: torpor
pushes you to the worst of your extremes:
torpor, through the ages, has felled those once of bravado
pushes you to the worst of your extremes:
torpor, through the ages, has felled those once of bravado
and celerity
That this Lillith has lilt your heart from within
burning, but not just at both, yet from all ends
her hands pull at the ashen wicks – threads – strings
burning, but not just at both, yet from all ends
her hands pull at the ashen wicks – threads – strings
to this heart’s content
The Search and The Path
I see you from afar
nearer though than I can tell
from across this schism
This gap, This chasm
I may attempt to cross
but how does one
prune and prick
the blunted seeds of the past
to let them lie and die
away from the now
in order to move forward
toward the prized hoard
that which differs ‘tween us all
to be the blinding light
to which all else falters
The coda to The Search
For that is what I aim
with you, for us
We could sweep from the black earth
all of its soot and what hides within
and with roots unearthed
rise from this lessened berth
or to set aside
our own garden of bliss
protected from all
that would hope to detract
or skew or refract
this beautiful sapling
I see you from afar
like the words in a book
intimately I know you
but only intellectually
for the seed has only
sprouted in my mind
and in times like these
I stroll the orchard
full of the choicest fruits
ill-labored and in bloom
as I choose
The Path; It winds
on a precarious whim
at times out of reach
My way is all I seek
as my feet find their way
falling into place
with me, for me
Miriam’s Death
Someone recently drew a picture of me
When queried, another claimed it looked like Moses
With this I thought, Moshe Rabbeinu
The one to teach and lead the way
The bridge between us and what’s above
Wandering the wilderness to build
A people worthy of the land
But not without its strife
For he lost his Miriam
And saw only the vision of what’s to be
From afar beside the river Jordan
Have I reached the valley’s depth
I’m not sure I can take anymore
I have been left, dumbed and inept
I am lost in the wilderness
There is no road in sight
To the left or the right
I have tumbled, stumbled and fumbled
With every good thing, WHERE IS MY FIGHT
That which will release me of this blight
Or am I to end up as Avihu and Nadav
With these unforgivable mistakes
Will I be left with death in the desert Negev
Bent to the ground to slither with the snakes
Please may I be given the strength to keep this evil at bay
Something to keep it together all along the way
Miriam’s dead to me
I’ve been in the desert
For so long
Will I reach my land
Will I drink the milk
Will I eat the honey
Am I destined to live
Or will I die
Having only seen from afar
That which I’ve been living for
You really were the backbone
For a people all alone
You were the support
For the one that lead the charge
Without you the well’s run dry
Left in our mouths the taste of bitterness
Leaving a patch of Eden behind
It’s just enough to quench this thirst
You were the support for the boy
Who wanted only to love and care
For the one who would be there
Through the highs and lows
The Notebook Blue 