¡ i'm so goddam happy !

(and for $1.25 a piece, so are all these illegal aliens)

tribute to the tears

don't fuck all the rabbis.
just this one.
this one's for you dave:

if i'm being bad and unruly
you can give me the stare
sometimes i'm a menace-truely.
but don't you touch a hair

upon my head
you heard what i said
i'll write 'i won't whatever you want' a million times
but the minute you raise your hand
you've crossed the line

don't you dare take your aggravation out on me
we no longer living in the the 18th century
you punish by using kinetic energy
you no longer the instructor
you the enemy

when that hand met flesh
you broke more than the silence with the noise
you broke more than my selfworth in my eyes
when you hit me in front of the boys
you broke more than my blood cells
you broke every bond that i ever had
relating to any 'greybeard'

and so now i've had enough
with this shit you tryin' to sell
try it on the devil, schmuck
'cause you gonna be burnin' in hell

now every ham i eat
everytime i go counterpoint
every time i drive on saturday
everytime i light up a joint

i'll be thinking of you
that rabbi back in high school
the one the one who din't understand me- the fool.
if you's the icon of my religion
i don't ever wanna be a jew

so thank you rebbe
for this was the best lesson you ever gave
next time we meet
i'll be pissing on your grave.

though when yom kippur rolls round
i promise i'll be prayin'
but 'God let that bastard die'
are the only words i'm saying.

so let me wrap this up
i'm almost through
i guess all i'm trying to say is: fuck you
fuck you
fuck you
and everyone in your crew
who approve of what you do

sorry for taking up your precious time
sincerely,
-the one who slipped through.

what i'm afraid of

one two
one two
zap 'im again-he's gotta survive
gotta keep his damn religion alive

how did he expect
his spark to stay lit
if he don't do shit
blaming it all
on false prophets and hypocrites

so he's just one with god
no laws no rites
just be good
-courted his wife by the moon light
they were married within a fortnight
had some kids who're unusually bright

and while life's perfect for them
i don't mean to party poop
but the offspring's whole connection
is only matzha ball soup.

-but you're not roman catholic just 'cause you eat fettucini
how are they to know that there's more
than white doilies and white silk beanies
they know about their culture
with the same intellegence as a zuccini

and they're all going to sunday school
where a bunch of fools
try to teach that it's chilled and cool
to do what you want
and to act like a freak
as long as you're covered
by the end of the week

with your membership fees
and while you've got
less of a concept
than dirt under your nails
you've got plant your little tree
up in israel

and carried by people who don't know better
an ancient culture unravels slow
like an old torn sweater
but now their lives are much better
met a nice palestinian girl
think he's gonna go wed her
while her mother would blow up half of jerusalem
if they only would let her

but the couple in love say
'the show must go on
is there something wrong with having a channuka bush
and keeping ramadan?'

got a well groomed house, car,and yacht
a clear name up there with all the elitists
but their heirloom tapestry's
been soiled by graffitists

and too soon the spiritual is gnawed to the bone
and they're feel like they're on a desert island -so very alone
they go to israel, but they're strangers in their very own home.
cannot fathom what's so special about a wall of old stone....

so zap 'im again
one two
c'mon
let his kids walk in around in more
than spiritual longjohns

let them know that there's more to religion
than a bar mitzva and circumcision
4000 years of rich history
and one tiny dent starts the fission

on hold music

there's s/t rather unsettling about this cartoon;
maybe it's how true it is.

(no, i'm not a green party radicalist)

listen up

You stand by me
I stand by you
If there is a fight I'm the one to come to
Good and bad, times we've been through
You got my back and I got yours too
All of my life you are in my crew
I'd do anything for you
Beat someone black and blue
Black and blue and I'd do it for you
-the transplants.

i swear it. friends are family.
(never forget it)

no slurpees for the legless.

so i'm walking down the street, when i see the pakistani corner store owner arguing with this legless guy in a wheel chair.
as i get closer, i see the paki first pointing at the guy's nubs, then at the 'no shoes- no service' sign.
'i am sorry my friend,' the pak says in his authentic 'stani accent. 'but policy is policy'.

i nearly split my sides laughing.

a brief peek into the life of s.j.

could have sworn i was going to be in the obituaries tomorrow.

ripping down the high way with a few friends, high in cigar fumes, music screaming.
weaving in out of traffic, catching air on the uneven road, hearing the brakes sqeal as we turn corners on two wheels,
i watched numbly (partially due to the smoke inhalation) as the two front seaters egged each other which between them is a greater daredevil.

but even as we nearly started a 3 car pile up, the only thing going through my head was: 'gee, i hope they have clean boxers upstairs 'cause otherwise i'm going commando'

the critic's verse

poetry shmoetry.


bah.

writer's block

roses are red
violets are blue
writing poetry
is very hard.

------------
is this a repost? i can't find it.
[certain impatient people better be happy ; )]

an ode to israel (i can't believe i'm doing this)

oh israel!
to sing your praise would take forever
in short you're a teeny little country
where the natives think they're clever.

the cities burst with holiness
each skyscraper and hut
but what's with all the life forms?
every second one's a nut.

a holy tongue is only fitting
for a sacred land
thank god the people are bilingual
-the language of the hand...

the land of milk and honey!
hatikvah and the hora!
the kingdom of heaven and city of gold
where everyone's a schnorrer.
---------------------------------

alright! enough! i can't go on.
sabra, this one's for you.
i hope this is satisfactory enough.

(p.s. i love israel. it's just that 1.the jewish wacko magnet of the world 2.tiring to be pumped with radically pro-zionistic beliefs [especially by people that have no clue about anything else of their culture except yom hatzmaot and falafel balls]. and so i don't like falling into that genre. i try to leave it to all the thousands of rabbis who beat me to it)

cry of the addict

Not another!
I quit!
I'm finished!
That's it!
I learned my mistake!
No more shall i take!
I've left it behind!
It's out of my mind!
I've changed to the core....
-alright, just one more.

----------------------------
this one's for you.
(you know who you are)

on a trip

-while i'm in the poppy garden
i can simply sit and gaze
at the flowers
oh for hours
drifting through the pretty haze
- falling in and out of focus
like a voodoo
hocus pocus
with the plants all begging
'smoke us!'
as my eyeballs start to glaze
- and while the colors blend together
i feel lighter than a feather
then there's sudden change in weather
lightly falling neon rain
- and when each raindrop touches ground
i can faintly hear the sound
of my vision laughing merry
as it's spinning round and round
-in the backround there is singing
gently adding to the fun
though it rains
the sky is clear
and there shines

PSYCHEDELIC SUN
---------------------------
composed on account others' experiances

the uncle s.j. show

hey kiddies!!!

it's me, uncle s.j. here to tell you you don't need to use razors or snort coke to feel happy.

yup. safety pins and magic markers are just as potent and they're a fraction of the price.

alrighty then, my young impressionable zombies,
your favorite uncle must be off.
stay tuned next time as we try to make this world a better place.

till then remember: don't eat dinner when you pour cynide in the cooking pot.

from comment to post

for those of you who haven't seen it on trixies blog yet (shame on you), here's s/t fresh and not too moody. as for the rest of you...
um... you're screwed (don't worry; new shit soon)
__________________________________________________

socks socks
socks socks socks.
why does everyone assume you need a pair?
socks socks
socks socks socks
is it 'cause they're braindead or perhaps they just don't care?

everytime i get a gift
i first give it a sniff
to make sure that's something good (like cash)
but if it smells of socks
won't open up the box
i toss it out the window to the trash

socks socks
socks socks socks.
is to get thought out gift is just too hard?
socks socks
socks socks socks
don't bother waiting for the thank you card

i'll go a tad extreme
to show you what i mean
a man i knew had no legs past his knees
when is his birthday came about
you should have seen him shout:
'what the heck am i to do with these?!?'

socks socks
socks socks socks.
kneesocks, anklets, argyle, herringbone
socks socks
socks socks socks
next birthday, think i'll hoof it all ALONE.

spring cleaning for the soul.

(trixies, you might want to skip this one.)
-------------------------------------------
ever have a moment of self introspectection?
you know, those pesky days where you wake up early and say:

"shit. what time is it?
only five o-fucking-clock in the goddamn morning?!?
dammit. you know, i probably shouldn't -fucking- swear so much.
hell, from now on it's only 'fricken' and 'shite' and whatever.
no more cussing shit out of me.
ah fuck.
alright;
starting right..... now.
...
...
....
um..
........
dang i'm freakin tired.
{shit, i sound like a fuckin hillbilly.}
...
crap.
i was doing so god damn well.
at least it's a start...
...
{yawn} well, how long was i able to hold it?
let me see...
SHIIIIIT! five o ONE? only 60 GODDAMN FUCKING SECONDS?!!??
ARGGGHHHHH!!!!!"

know what i mean?
it's days like these, i try and sleep in.

the end?

to all the fuckers and friends who peruse this excuse for a blog:

it's just about time to shut this thing down.
don't have the nerve to hit 'delete' quite yet; -but it's coming.
be seeing you.

brain worm

i suppose it has s/t to do with the music that tomboy posted and the watching of 'apocalypse now' right before conking out last night, but i can't get this short 'film' out of my mind:

the scene is all 20s black-and-white-intense-sepia footage style.
with the little squiggles and lines that pulse in and out of the picture.


little children running in an endless field; playing to the flow of the pan pipes.
and as the piccalo(?) picks up, it cuts to WWII era fighter planes flying skyhigh in formation.
then, the two scenes converge as you see the children are frolicing in the same direction as the planes are flying.
then as tempo increases, the squadron drops their bombs on the tykes.
by that switch over part (you know what i'm talking about), the clueless (yet scampering) little ones disappear one by one in small dusty explosions as the missiles contact terra firma.
the planes swoop off and the field is bare;
and the music loops back to the beginninng...


unsettling, in a pleasant sort of way.

undo the restraints...

popping pills
eating glass
stainless steel
smoking grass

if i had a dime for everytime i wanted to get away
i'd have all the dimebags i crave by now

i finish rewinding all this shit up, some jackass pushes play
got to unplug this game, but got to first know how.

i'll smash my head gainst the screen till something breaks
- i don't care which
and you can write on my tombstone
mother nature is a bitch

love to shut the world up permanently
i'd cut their throats out
then hear them try to shout
'be happy!' -hmm, looks like you could use some surgery...
-----------------
give feed back.
i'm buzzed, does it rhyme and rhythem?

my turn at MEME - a through z:

um... alright, i've been tagged for MEME by

scraps

no freakin clue why i'm doing this or what i done to deserve this, but what the he(ll/ck).
here goes nothing...

Accent: i think a blend of californian and tristate area (correct me if i lie)
Booze: ahh. none for me. think of it as a recovering alchoholic.
Chore I Hate: toss up 'tween doing the dishes and taking out the garbage.
Dogs/Cats: dogs. one day, when i've mine own pad...*sigh* (cats aren't terrible either. but they poop in the sandbox)
Essential Electronics: my mac and... um... er... a taser?
Favorite Perfume/Cologne: hang pouperiee bags from my armpits (doesn't everyone?)
Gold/Silver: rather gold on the way to the pawn shop, but silver in the breakfront/drawer/cane handle/etc.
Hometown: from cali to torono to n.j. to monsey. they're all places i've lived, but none have ever been a REAL HOMEtown in my book. just another bathroom stop on the highway of life.
Insomnia: unless i chug a pot of hard coffee before i shut eyes, morphius is good to me.
Job Title: slacker
Kids: except for my 2 year old cousin who calls me daddy....
Living Arrangements: physically-with the rest of my atomic family. mentally-so far away.....
Most Admired Trait: you'd have to ask my legions of groupies and fanclubs.
Number of sexual partners: oh. i've got my own harem. (hello? what the hell were you on when you wrote this question?)
Overnight Hospital Stays: dunno. when i was born... and when i got stitches? or broke my arm? or when i broke it again? can't remember.
Phobia: heights. suppose it had something to do with the aforementioned injuries.
Quote: (guys?? help me out here!)
Religion: Jewish.
Siblings: 3. a noisy nosey little sister, a mad chillin big sister, and an adopted swedish meatball named sven
Time I usually wake up: heh, depends what time i'm asleep.
Unusual Talent: i've been told that everything about me's unusual
Vegetable I refuse to eat: mohamad ali
Worst Habit: procrastination
X-Rays: of course.
Yummy Foods I make: chicken marsala
Zodiac Sign: sagittarius
--------------------
ahright.... who're the next victims?
argh! i'd say everyone who hasn't been tagged yet.
doodlehead, flor,libby,smb,sw/fm,tomboy, trixies, etc.- if you haven't been tagged yet, you're 'it'.

beat your swords to... building blocks?

i've never been a diehard peace activist; so until they come to me, i'm just gonna tell it to you.

over the last few days, i've been privy to a wonder that will unite all of mankind.
a creation so remarkable it's very name will strike fear in the cowardly hearts of evil-doers globally.
a device that is so incredible, i dare not even utter its name.
(so i'll show you a picture)
((bad guys beware))

you have been warned

a remix

screaming he charges
'let no one survive!'
leads the fearless warlord
of a thousand tribes

Undefeated in battle
his foes flee in fright
his flail barbed and heavy
his movement is light

but he now heads home
from the blood and the stench
with his only regard
of his hunger to quench

His adrenaline rushing
as he opens the door
but the quiet prevails
-he forgets about war

as his hunger is quelled
his weariness grows
to the beckon of hypnos
he's starting to doze

While he dreams of sweet dreamings
his head starts to droop
with a gurgle he dies
he's been vanquished by soup
----------------------
doodle, this one's for you..

alas...

do i have any gifts coming to me?

sunshine on the dark mind

oh, what a glorious morning!
what a day to be alive
the sun is about and the city's abuzz
like bumblebees tending their hive

the temperature's certainly wonderful
the epitomy of perfect weather
with no wind and no clouds, nor humidity
you simply could not ask for better.

it seems everything's dressed in its finest
and the overall look's not too grody
there's a skip and a bounce in everyone's step
- I SWEAR I'M GONNA KILL SOMEBODY!!!

news cast of the (near?) future

good morning america
un saludo a la florida y a california

the time is is nine thirty seven, and here's the latest news:

-the last 5 year old child dies in the bronx today.
on her way to the drugstore; mowed down by a driveby. the city mourns her...

-in other news, congress has finally ratified the new voting laws. if we understand these rules completely, it appears that the u.s. citizen will now vote for the candidate that that he/she/it does NOT want in office.
when asked about the new procedure, your congressman remarked: 'it seems that the people merely want a scapegoat for all their complaints and problems. we figured that this is just a step closer to pleasing the masses.'

-move over rainbow flag carriers! and welcome the alchoholics and gamblers of the world in your fight for political equallity.
spokesperson fred 'the keg' bishop says: 'is there something wrong with being an alchololic? i was born with this disease. why should there be clinics and groups out there, who's sole intention is to destroy something completely natural?'
the alchoholics anonymous and gambling prevention clinics have yet to voice their opinion.

-speaking of nature, scientists draw close to finishing a new gas which is to be almost as perfect as natural oxygen. dr. robert stuller says: 'unfortunately, we have nothing to compare it to. if we only still had trees....'

-fetch the votes rover! yes, rover that sweet beagle from springfield, has just been elected into office. 'this is an amazing leap in animal right's history,' says spouse dora kinsley. 'the next step is presidency.'

more to be said, after this brief break...

madman's party

hey there jimmy ol'pal
are you sure you feel ok?
your nose seems to be caving in
you smell of bad decay

your face and clothes are caked with bugs
of maggots, lice, and moths
your orifice is leaking worms
the ammonia has worn off

you haven't even touched your cake
that's on the plate in front of you
but seriously though, are you alright?
your skin is turning mottled blue.

don't stare with that accusing look
you're not my enemy
i couldn't let our friendship break
i'd die of agony

don't you worry 'bout your severed arm
what's super glue can't handle?
so cheer up pal, it's your birthday now
make a wish and blow out the candles

*sniff*

i don't know what you've heard or believe about this upcoming thursday, but this is a great story none the less:

my sister, every tuesday, lends a hand at a rather large and hectic family that lives nearby.
tonight she's helping the mother in the kitchen, when the lady's 4 year-old daughter runs in.
'mommy! mommy!' she cries.
'moshiach is coming on thursday!
can we make jello for him?'

*sigh*
childish innocence...

proverbs (? whatever)

-time waits for no one; death is more patient.

-every sigh has a beginning, ever song an end.

-even the sharpest knife needs a handle.
---------
crazy crap floating around in the great void of my 'tween-d-ears.
does it mean anything (to you)?

sleeping easy

i went to a confrence today;
a meeting with those, who live under the bed.
and lurk in the closet and basement and attic.
that slink in the shadows and creep in the dark.

i asked them to stop going bump in the night.
it's starting to freak me out.

war: a tribute to mister tom

Today i've heard of a new location.
only, it's been notorious for generations.
many have traveled there, but few have returned.

Overly populated with the dead and ill
amazingly, the people they flock there still
kamikazes, struggle to hold upper lips
loading their passengers on for last trips
every soul knowing they're en route to die
yes mister tom, goodnight and goodbye.

paranoid

i don't ever blatently bring my personal life into my blog, but i need help and this is the most capable place to state one's problems while still being anonymous enough not to feel crazy.

there's someone/thing living in my bathroom mirror.
i've never actually seen it. but with every flush, i can hear a harsh snickering in the backround of rushing water.
once i looked up just in time to see a blur disappear off the face into the shadows of the wooden frame.
and there was nothing that might have been reflected on my side of the glass.

and if that wasn't bad enough, i'm the only one that realizes the entity's existance.
the rest of my family is blind and deaf to the fiend.

i've tried to get rid of the demon.
i've smashed the glass.
i've pried the mirror off the wall.

but with every repair that is made, the creature returns.

i avoid the bathroom like the plague when i can.
and when i have no choice, i ALWAYS leave the door open.
after draping towels over the mirror.
and playing loud music in hope of drowning the freak out.

but my parents are getting fed up.
they say that the bathroom has a door for a reason.
and that not everyone in the house wants to listen to heavy metal at 4 in the morning.
why can't they see?
why can't they hear?
the shadows, the muttering
it gets louder with every passing day.

how do i convince them?
how do i show them of the eminent menace?

mood of the day-face of the night

time has feeling.

think about it.

how come some days stimulate an obnoxious cheeriness, while others are sort of casual dress day mellow?
some nights glow with an aura of peace, while others ooze with despair and sorrow?

why is the feeling of the sun always offensive, while the moon always defensive?
is light extroverted? dark introverted?
why doesn't dusk ever smile with the same intensity as dawn?
is it impossible for the morn to cry as bitterly as the eve?

is the sun really masculine and moon feminine?

can somebody please answer me?

s.j.- marriage counselor

i don't know what it is about waking up in the middle of the night.
perhaps it has something to do with the mind 'recharging'.
or with the intergration between the chaotic world of dreams and the blurry realm of reality at three in the morning.
whatever it may be, it certainly brews strange ideas inside the head.

take last night (or was it this morning?) for instance:
wake up due to stomach cramps and gasp in shock as my brain spits out another late night special. (here we go)

one of the most fundamental laws in a marriage should always be tit-for-tat.
if a party is going into a marital relationship with an equal (one can only suppose), it must be known that newton's law of relativity is integral in maintaining a stable equalibrium.

that every action, has an equal reaction.

for example:

-if you leave your shaver clippings in the sink, be prepared to find hair globuals clogging the shower drain.

-if you take your beloved shopping on saturday, do not expect him to acknowlege your existance during the sports game on sunday.

-if you're going to make a wisecrack about the opposite gender, brace yourself for the vicious boomerang effect.

the list goes on and on, but i'm sure you get the jist of it.
if you can't take it, don't dish it.
look for the manual. coming soon to bookstores near you. :P

the miracle food plan

this just came in.
nutritionists have finally
developed the mother of all diets.
it allows you to eat whatever you want,
without changing your schedule in any way
and you still burn off all that unhealthy fat.
i believe it's called the 'get-off-your-fat-ass,-you-lazy-shmuck,-and-take-control-of-your-shitty-life' diet.
-or something like that.

reggae 2(?)

homeless in dem big world
self-inflict, i suppose
rolled in filth much too long
itsa bout time i've arose

and as i walk down de avenues
won't take dem fake words nor dem sweet smelling flowers
gotta keep on hacking through the overgrown husks
searching for clear droplets of spiritual power

be sure keep in you- at all times
a pure heart, -open eye,- a clear mind
you can't guide yourself up to higher ground
if yur still followin from behind.

never look back, you know
heights can hurt great insights
keep your's intact, stay on track-don't you slack
just above you's de truth, all below you is trite.

and de planet dem hates me
don't know what elates me
silk dressed dem still beggers
coarse rags i stand stately.

but you holdin zion in yur eyes
dis exile's just a disguise of pretend
if you lost n confused cause you caught in dem lies
rewind and play dis shit wonsa gen.
----------------------------
now if i could just apply this to the life of yours truly...
(if this is total crap, do not hesitate to call me out on it.)

att: homies and hustlers of the world

you are not a gangster.

you're just a pathetic loser who shoplifted from a seven-eleven.

playing a violent version of color war.

nobody cares about your 'turf' or your 'bling'.
mainly because neither are worth very much.

get a life.
and a spellcheck.

-----------------
whew!
sorry it's not a poem, but i had to get that out.

everytime

i'm a firm believer in the concept
of there being enough room on this planet
for all walks of life
regardless of their race, gender, or pecularities
but why, i ask
must i always be sat next to the weirdos?

thirst

a shell
void of within

left without

cold fire burning
yearning for life

won't follow the sightless
down worn paths
to a dead god

remembering is trivial
if i can't

i love you mommy

i can hear her rhythmic rocking
from the floor above
the mother in the room upstairs
who has no child to love

she's dillusional, institutional
at the very least, she's unusual
even the rodents give her wide berth
when she hobbles down the hall

her frightened eyes are red and swollen
her hands clutch tight -lest it be stolen
the dirty rag that holds the remains
of a rattered tattered doll

muttering in her intake of breath
moaning with the release
she's found the cure for loneliness
in this building of disease

she cares for the toy as if it were living
the personifcation of selfless giving
a crazy old bird she stands protecting
a mother bear with rabies

should such a soul be locked away?
it's not my job or place to say
but if you must truly interfere
-please don't take her baby

so tired

peace embrace me
for i am tired and i'm bored
give me your eternal sleep
i can't keep living by the sword

how did i ever stoop so low?
i shamefully admit, i don't know
once we drank nectar divine
where did it all go?

the merchants flock around me crying:
'a better life! oh so fresh!'
and yet still i gag- for all all their wares
reek strong of rotton flesh

relieve me of these wretched duties
please turn an ear to my shrieks and groans
redeem me from this waking nightmare
all i want, is to come home

pollution

pollution
seems the whole world is in search of a solution
but i've yet to hear it in a newyear's resolution
pollution pollution

from the butts to the cans to the toxic waste
we've even made a trash can of outer space
from first recorded time
up until modern urbanity

but know it's not too late to turn around
you can bring back eden to your town
won't you do your share
and save the fate of humanity

pollution
to stop the beast, you have to add your contrabution
time to revolt 'gainst the industrial revolution
oh pollution redemption

view point

find peace within yourself
before you chastise friends
a camera with a blurry view
-you have to change the lens

worm

pipes and tubes
coming and going
like a private plumbing system
yes, i'm a private.
or was it a sergeant?
does it matter?
bed-ridden as i am?

what good are my medals if i have no eyes?
what good are my weapons if i have no arms?
what good are my boots if i have no feet?

i've done my share
the president wanted to shake my hand
-alas...
a hero he said
a man among men

i've got a plaque on a wall
i'll never see it

so helpless
why, if you'd drop me in the mud
i'd wriggle and squirm like some sort of insect
and crawl back to that field where i lost
my limbs and my brothers
who went out on a limb
for scum like me

i'm so sorry

(hurting) poem

today i woke from my blissful snoozing
to find myself trapped in a white padded room
doctors leering orderlies abusing
my every right to self-brought gloom

pumped with anti-depressants
i'm painlessly lifted to a higher place
don't you see i despise the cheery and pleasant?
what you're doing's not more than a slap in the face

why can't you leave me alone?
cast me out and burn my file
if only a life of piss and moan
without the restraint mask that makes me smile
--------------------------------------------
it might not be your p.o.v. per say, but i'd appreciate constructive crit.
thanx

have you ever

have you ever felt enormous
like a mighty redwood
catching the sun rays
as you firmly stand tall?

have you ever felt weightless
like a gust of cool breeze
nothing can stop you
no-no worries at all

have you ever been reminded
of a helium balloon
there is nothing
that is going to hold you down

have you ever felt like headlines
of the fresh front page news
cause your name
is the talk of the town

and have you ever held your fantasy
in both hands, clutching tight
hoping that when you open your eyes
everything will turn out all right?

have you ever?

holocaust- enough

i too
am of survivor of a holocaust

surrounded by pictures
and lectures and books

the swastika
is modified
now shaped
like a star of david

stop torturing me
ghosts of the past
stop killing me
in a landfill of the past

you test my emotions
with your bombardment

of the disquieting past

do you wish for me to laugh?

i will not allow my self to join
your ghetto in the desert
where the only walls
are those that you have built up on your own

call me a disbeliever
you are wrong again
i simply don't want numbers tattooed on my arm
-------------------------------------
i know this is going to offend somebody.
that wasn't my intent.
i'm just find it overwhelming to live as a jew today,
while being injected 24/7
with holocaust paraphernalia.
in time, even bitter herbs lose their sting.

state of mind

deep in the corridors
down every twisted lane
in the state of unwell
flock subjects of insane

it is the ruler
dictator
destroyer
creator
of a new world order
that's more infectious than the flu

there's no stopping
its bloom
and adictive's
its fume
watch it cropping up all over
its next victim may be you

yes, my boundries
are tricky
for my fingers are quite sticky
see graffiti ladened hallways
start to spread

now the whole world's rather hazy
no dear comrade
you aren't crazy
it's but a stage of evolution
called 'the cerebral revolution!'
it shan't be famine or pollution
that you dread
au de contraire
you'll wonder where you left your head

chameleon

the chameleon's a creature with talent quite rare
it lays in the foliage and hasn't a care
with no fur or feathers, its body is bare
yet never complains it has nothing to wear
-------------------
this goes out to my sister.
may my wallet have no money, like her closet has no clothes.

mask

every face a smile
each grin enlaced with guile
not one a thing
but screen of lies
beware the holes
that hold the eyes
how can such hate
appear so kind?
what's true's the pit
what's false, the rind.

old paper

looking at the newspapers
of yesterday
like old memories
they're but a fuzzy gray

they're off to be recycled
to be used again
such is with life my friend
there might have been a start
but it will never end
a circle's made of bends...

crossed bones

yo ho yo ho
a pirate's life for me
we'll steal and kill
and drink our fill
upon the seven seas
and sell the soul
to the cloven one
and never look behind
and if the pig comes for his pay
we'll sink him in the brine!

yo hee ho yo hee ho
so raise the grinning flag!
if you refuse
to share your booze
you'll cast off in a bag
we're on to see uncharted lands
to bury our dubloons
and drink with lass
of higher class
inside a wharf saloon

yo ho yo ho
goodbye to mother dear
it's time me lads,
that we pursue
a nautical career!

eve

when the sunbeams crack
and the world goes black
shadows smirk
behind my back

and every branch of bush and tree
becomes my mortal enemy
why o why
do you torment me?

neon signs screaming
every glass shard gleaming
somebody get me out of here!
tell me please that i am dreaming

and the night sounds
are all around
but my chest drones them out
with it's steady pound

twelve hours of happiness
have vanished in this emptiness
and now, though terrified
i accept the night's caress

mama don't cry

morning comes
it's a new day
got to be be be
be on my way

take my hat off the stand
open up the door
mama you promised you won't cry
after me

mama
you promised don't cry
mama
you promised don't cry
mama
you promised don't cry
after me

got to go go go
go far away
but you know know know
know i really don't want to

and we both understand
i'll be back soon as i can
so mama please promise you won't cry
after me

mama
you promised don't cry
mama
you promised don't cry
mama
you promised don't cry
after me

it's a hard hard world
for a man to make a living
and a man has got to do
what a man has got to do

i would never mean to hurt you
but a chained man cannot run
but dear mama please promise you won't cry
after me

mama
you promised don't cry
mama
you promised don't cry
mama
you promised don't cry
after me
----------------------------------
(i wish i could put some sound on here. i'd put some funky reggae tune to it)

poem (still)

secret
society
keep me
from being

the real me
is hiding
the real me
is riding the waves
of this tsunami called life

uproot the tree whose fruits are ripe
a real socialite
drops their dreams down the drain pipe
what utter trite
following blind rite
when you're blessed with the gift of sight
keep following the light
and leave this cell for good

keep in mind this lesson true
you can not fail at being you
for it's essential to capture the true essence
of this establishment we ignorantly slave to establish
so we could all be equal
equally ignorant.

more poem

freeing myself
from things
that don't exist
peering through the mist
i must go. i must flee.
don't wait for me
write me a letter
addressed to nowhere
i'm bound to receive it

the sausage poem (?)

off the coast of Bingo Bango
on the ship 'The Royal Hissing'
the captain was in a terrible rage
his favorite meal was missing

'argh!' he roared out angrily
'we mustest get it back!
before i get inside my heart
a fungulous attack!'

with that the whole crew
had heard quite enough
and set out and spread out
to find the food stuff

they hired an army
'twas rather big
of five polish mercenaries,
a pot,
and a pig

together they rampaged
here, there, far and wide
killing all who they saw
and tipping cows on the side

they captured potatoes
and kidnapped some toast
but they still couldn't find
what their chief wanted most

so they returned to the boat
with their booty and jewels
but when the head honcho saw them
he shouted out 'FOOLS!'

'for this i have sent you?
more gold do i need?
No! i am HUNGRY!
i sent you for FEED!'

'so toast up the toast!
and fry up the fries!
as for you (to the pig)
you must forfeit your thighs!'

'for, for this fabulous feast
which we'll shortly start makin'
we'll need lots of pork chops
and hamstring and bacon!'

but the pig wouldn't hear it
it said they could rot
and then turned to its pals
the five poles and the pot

the pig yelled out 'JIHAD!'
(it was muslim you see)
and with that they waged war
on those men of the sea

(the battle was horrid
it was long and intense
so i'll skip to the end
to cut short your suspense)

...when the clanging had stopped
and the dust had all settled
they saw that the pig
got away in the kettle!

the sailors all screamed!
they shouted and swore!
but alas! the sly pig
had already reached shore

so instead of pig sausage
they had pollacks instead
and the crew had to live
with the fries and the bread

-and this, my dear friends,
'though it may sound demented
is the tale of how
the POLISH SAUSAGE
was truely invented

poem

the circus is fun- but
what are the performers like
after the gates are closed and locked?
nice trick mr. ringmaster
can you still do it when nobody there?
would you still be you and i still be me
if we were the only one left alive?

poem (aaaggggghhhhhh!!!!!!)

loving' and living' it
being' and breathing' it
i've followed the fakers long enough
i'll keep my own my fire
forget this sh!t

open up
and let go
we must flow
in the wind
you will break
if you don't learn to bend

as a friend
you should know
that you don't have to mend
and make whole
there are yet, button holes
that need be
such a tear helps it bind
it won't fray
or unwind
look at weakness
it's all
in your mind

so, unlock
open up
let me off

for the clowns of the cloth
i breath fire
and scream
an inferno upon
all of those with nose turned
sniff it in
take a whiff
feel the heat in your chest
watch you flail in distress
watch you burn
as i stand
with the wretched you've spurned

oh chagrin
for in truth
no one wins
oh, a button hole's not
anything without cloth
of somekind

it's so easy to steer
from behind

over/protecting/over

my demented angel guards me
it keeps me chained
i do believe
it does it to protect me
but could it be an oxymoron?
giving me freedom
by clipping my wings
holding me safe
with a key ring
stop! i too am a celestial being
stop! i beg you! before i go mad.

resurrection

Jesus was born again
but this time his name was jamal
born in an alleyway
next to the junkyard
with a lone street light
illuminating the scene
his mother swears it was an immaculate conception
just like all the other girls in the class do
the shepherds were there
but this time they were dogs
the wise men said she should dump him
but the influance of the three kings
(drinking, smoking, puking)
helped her ignore their sound advice
18 years later he's crucified
on a picket fence
right after he ate his last supper
at mcdonalds
left to die by enemy soljas
he ascends to heaven in the back of an ambulance
and yet no-one cried
and yet nothing changed

tattoos

The miser laughs snidely
at the blind man's tattoos
as he went off to make more money
he'd never use

heaven and hell

Heaven and Hell
what do they mean?
can they be seen?
is there a space that is placed in between?
do they exist?
who can foretell
the ever mysterious Heaven and Hell.


Heaven and Hell
what can I say?
The good ones and bad ones are sent there to stay
what about a bad year? what about a good day?
these measures of time
that we know so well
are they also sent up to Heaven and Hell?


Heaven and Hell
I'll try to be brief
does Heaven use Hell as comic relief?
what of Robin Hood types: the saint yet the thief?
is there a taste?
is there a smell
that differs for people in Heaven and Hell?


Heaven and Hell
how does it go?
is it naught but a show?
if Hell's full of heat, is Heaven of snow?
this is a concept
thats so hard to sell
the great afterlife
and Heaven
and Hell

7 children

7 children hold up the world
7 children hold up the world
toll the bells and sing a hymn
7 children hold up the world

one of them isn't you-hoo hoo
none of the 7 is me -hee hee
each child is special independently
of anyone else in this motley crew

the first is a boy without an arm or leg
he crawls on his belly
and spins on his head
his stumps are dark black
and his face is bright red
has nothing to eat
but is too proud to beg

the second's a girl without any hair
she turns in the breeze
and hasnt a fear
as she floats like a kite
in the atmosphere
like a kite with no string
cast aside with the chair...

three is a wee lad that nobody knows
digs through the refuse
like a scrawny young mole
watched hungrily
by a murder of crows

next is a small girl that gnaws on a fruit
its rotten to show
just how far she will stoop
for a rind of bad cheese
she would jump through a hoop
and if she had half her face
you would think she was cute

five! five! buried alive
deep underground
with whats left of his life
the dastardly deed
of a wicked housewife
his air's running out
do you think he'll survive?

the sixth's belted in a car bound to crash
she works in a frenzy
to undo the latch
the gas tank is full
like a cheap strike off match
soon will be nothing
but a pile of ash

is the seventh a boy or a girl- who can tell?
it's been beat to a pulp
with a metal tipped belt
but somewhere deep down
past abrasion and welt
is a wellspring of tears
it is trying to quell

7 children hold up the world
outcast freaks both boy and girl
cast your flowers, lend a hand
7 children hold up the world

what is there for us to say
none of them are up to par
each an ugly scar - har har
throw them all away - hey, hey?

poem (ha)

this life we live
is just a joke
try to laugh
before you croak
realize
before you're through
figure out
the punchlines you

a tribute to a favorite teacher

poor old mr. jackson- his face an ashy grey
never could control us- though tried so hard each day
he went ahead and hung himself
as it now begins to rain
his head knocks out a steady beat
against the window pane

i guess he was at the end of his rope
he gave up completely- lost all hope
but as he hangs there now quite limply
from his nine knotted suspention
i know this time he surely has
our absolute attention.

no color

there's no light in the city
just shades of grey and black
the white you'll find
is how a pidgeon
tagged your cadillac
------------------------------------------------
for doc g, for helping me get back on my feet
thank you

babies aren't forever

Excuse me, Mr. Mayor!
won't you please kiss my baby?
i've waited to meet you a lifetime too long.
wait two years? elections are over?
the city might be here, but we will be gone.

poem

Onward soldiers of God!
give the heavens happiness
KILL RAPE LOOT
bring fire on those
whose father, Adam
ate forbidden fruit
wreck their cities
RAZE THEM DOWN!
the hallowed halls of peaceful prayer
the libraries, hospitals, schools, and homes
righteous work of the pagan-slayer
pile their young in catacombs
for when you destroy all that He's created
but then will God be satiated
so with every kill, men, understand
you bring harmony to the land

poem (yup!)

an imam, a priest , and a rabbi
went for a ride in a car
the gas meter needle's on empty
but they had faith in God they'd get far

when suddenly
one of them espied
a pedestrian
run out from the side
they prayed with eyes shut
to invoke the divine
and now i got skid marks
all over my spine

a study of white and black

ight is the moon
dark is the night
resistance is futile
it hurts more to fight
light is my complex
dark is my brow
i've tried to be positive
look at me now
light is the blade
dark is the handle
metal glints eager
by flame of a candle
light is my head
dark is my blood
ashes to ashes
man came from mud
light is ahead
dark is the tunnel
gyrate and spin
we're tin beads in a funnel

poem (what did you expect?)

at times i want to slit my wrists
but there's no razor sharp enough
or tie a rock around my neck and jump off a bridge
but there's no stone that weighs enough
sometimes i want to lay down on th railroad tracks
but there's no train that's quick enough
or run a car in an air tight garage
but there's no room that's small enough
and when i rationally think about why i want to die
there is no reason big enough.
-------------------------------------------------
i know, i know. dorthy parker. but i like it anways. and i wrote it anyways. and it's mine.(anyways)

poem- long(er)

last night i died
or so it seemed
(of course, it's just
a dream i dreamed)
i rode to heaven
in the back
of a taxicab
to a beat up shack
the sign outside said:
" NO LOITERING"
and "DELIVERIES + DEAD PERSONEL
FOLLOW TO REAR"
so i made my way around the side
full of wonder, awe and fear
behind the ramshack building there was
a pudgy old man in a decrepit rocking chair
he had oxygen tubes strapped to his nose
and a hearing aid in each hairy ear
he asked me: "Boy? have you been good?"
have you served gods of stone and wood?
were you honest? did you lie? do you have an alibi?
did you stay up late? if you did, till what time?
have you ever been accused of commiting a crime?
i stared back in shock "God? is that you?"
but the old man cupped his hands by his ears
and said "Who?"
"hurry up young'un! answer me, quick!"
i said "i've been good" and recieved a candy stick
it was prune flavored! Worse! and it gummed up my teeth
( at this point i felt like i'd really been fleeced)
i screamed out: "Hey old man, what is this rot?"
he answered back: "heaven. it's all that we've got."
"for this i was decent? for this i behaved?
for this i toiled hard from the cradle to grave?
i'd rather have hell." i said with a choke
"So be it" decreed God to the words i had spoke
turns out hell's not much better
not better at all
it's a grimy old outhouse
but the seat is too small
and it's dark
and it's filled up with second-hand smoke
that's all i remember
before i awoke.

home sweet home

mommy's hooked on alchohol
daddy's high on grass
big brother brought a gun to school
for show and tell in class
big sister slices up her arm
she tries so hard to hide
little sister almost killed herself
there's a dead baby outside
and if i get hit from time to time
that's fine enough with me
don't need no friends because we're one big
happy family

poem (huh?#2)

cannibalism in a mother's dream
the beggar lies behind his schemes
and while he hardly ever wakes
the whole world makes it's grave mistakes
but juvinile delinquincy
begins with a piece of cake.

poem (huh?)

little children
holding hands
singing sweetly
in the dark

gazing from
an open mind
you'll find virtue
in the shark

every parent
has ambition
for the infant
that's to come

only gifts
of the chosen few
will warm you up
yet leave you numb

the shrinking house

there once was a little boy who was very happy with life. he lived in an enormous house, had lots of friends, and had the best parents a child could want.

on the average day, the boy would come home from school (which he enjoyed very much), romp around with his many friends outside till the sun went down. then he go inside his giant house, and stay till very late because his parents loved him, and never made him go to bed until he felt like it. and the little boy was happy.

years went by and the little boy was not so little anymore. life was still good, but it had changed in many ways.
he had less fun in school (mainly because his new teachers were a bit sluggish and more demanding than his previous ones), he didn't talk to many of his old friends anymore, and he began to notice that his parents were often red-eyed and bickering, which hurt him very much for he loved both of them with all his heart.
it also occured to the boy, that his mansion seemed to be smaller than his youthful memories. but the boy was content.

more time went by and by now the boy was becoming a young man. life was alright, but things kept on changing. school was very difficult (his instructors did not seem to be in the lesson and gave out large assigments that were very time consuming), he had now but a handfull of friends and started finding empty alchol bottles strewed about the house. many nights he would lie in bed and wonder, "why are my parents yelling so loudly? and why does my room seem so small?" he never got an answer, yet the young man never complained.

from adolecence to manhood is but a small leap and our hero had leapt far enough. he was shocked to see how serverely his life had been altered from his early childhood musings. he had dropped out of school (for the professors were nothing more than greedy unscrupulous ne'er-do-wells, who collected a salary
for doing nothing), began taking therapy on account of him talking to imaginry people, and had been seperated from his abusive alcholic parents. his final reflection of his former home as he was transported away was, " how can anyone live in a hovel so small?" and he started to cry.

poem (teeheehee)

upon my shelf
i have a piece
of calcium
to say the least
it's rather small
and pearly white
i bleach it almost
every night
it reminds me of
the fun i've had
and cheers me up
when i am sad
it's all i've left
of friends long gone
but is it jimmy?
or is it john?

poem again

every day
when the sky is grey
i take my problems
and throw them away
i scoop them up
from in my brain
and watch them swirl
right down the drain
then everyone will feel my hurt
the next time that it rains.

into a home-out of the world

today i met
an invisible man
there's countless of them
that inhabit the land
living like specters
-if that's the word-
deaf to the world
and so too unheard
blind to the world
the world blind to them
ignoring their antics
again and again
he was struggling up stairs
clutching the rails
like a ship rides the sea
with no wind in it's sails
like a stone rolls uphill
like a snail climbs a tree
his heart only beating
to get to point b
invisible people
heaped with abuse
painfully shuffle
in comfortable shoes

poem (next generation?)

those who shelter
their sweet children
to see the flowers
but not the grave
when the day of knowlege comes
goodbye innocent
-hello deprave

parable #2

there once was a man. let us call him john.
john had a pocketwatch. it was very old.
so old in fact, that it had been passed down from father to son for nearly two hundred years. now it belonged to john.
curiously though, the ancient time piece was always accurate.
never did it tell the wrong time, not even once.
and john was very proud.

one day john was out on a stroll, when he bumped into a good friend of his.
let us call him jimmy.
they were engaged in a pleasant chat when john, as was a habit of his, started toying with his prized timepiece.
'y'know john,' jimmy piped. 'you should get that gizmo checked. a watch so old must be in some sort of disrepair.' 'i wouldn't be surprised if you're right!' exclaimed john. 'i'd hate not to sort out the minor issues before they escalade into a frightful problem. i say we go to a clock shop at once.'
and off they went.

'handle it carefully now.' quavered john, as the watchmaker slid a thin crowbar-like tool into the watch's side. 'easy does it. we wouldn't want to ruin the delicate inner workings.'
'keep yer pants on, gov'ner.' the clocksmith retorted. 'i deal with these beau'ies from dawn t' dusk. now if you'll excuse me... #######!' and the watch slid out of his fingers a clattered onto the floor.
'my watch! my watch!' cried john. 'my beautiful watch! you broke it! you broke it! you broke it!'
'look what you've done!' joined in jimmy. 'you ruined a priceless antique heirloom!'

'don't know what yer yammerin' about mates.' the expert said defensively. 'look at yer piece. it hasn't got even one bloomin' cog in it...'

and sure enough, he was right. the watch was completely empty.

and the watch never worked again.

poem- i can't believe i'm sharing this

sometimes when i'm all alone
and things aren't going right
i leave this crumby world behind
and step into the light

i've got my own
very special place
a land that's outside
time and space
that's mine
and i don't have to share
it with anyone
and when i'm there
i know that things
will be just fine
as i lie upon the table
that is full of pins and screws
i smile as the shackles close
i have nothing left to lose
and the jailer
with the chains and the saw
and the hammer
will knock nails up and down my spine
yet it will still be fine
how divine
in the land where nothing's real
it takes so much to make you feel
make you feel...
make you feel...

poem (just to fly?)

things that i have seen
keep me terrorized
they've always been my ball and chain
the locks corode as time flies by
i can't remember when they came
i can't recall the days long gone
oh yes i've struggled- struggled hard
but see the bonds are much too strong
i'll fade away
like day to dusk
i am myself no more
i am now nothing but a husk
all of my innards have disolved
my will is right about to break
so dry and brittle
look at my body rock and shake
i'd float away
but i'm still tied
oh just to fly

poem (politics. hate 'em)

news brief from the mid-east
so sick of suicide bombers
the land
belongs to the farmers
bed fellows with friends like osama
gonna need
bulletproof pajamas

they say the war
is fought by the poor
but be honest
this shouldn't alarm us
getting food stamps
not paying taxes
take it easy
the homeless relaxes
fighting gang wars through the city
now turn and aim your guns on the enemy

so don't pump your fists at congress
they're not the ones
that are trying to harm us
every fool that loves saddam is
you who pay for his legal armor
heard of 9/11
from your place in the bahamas
slit his throat
' it's cruel and unusual!' they'll warn us
but you can gas and blast millions who were undefended and armless
if peace is what you promise (or at least you thought it)

my #1 favorite poem of all time

Nothing
by Clive Barker

After a battle lasting many ages,
The Devil won
and he said to God
(who had been his Maker):
"Lord,
We are about to witness the unmaking of Creation
By my hand.
I would not wish you
to think me cruel,
So i beg you, take three things
From this world before i destroy it.
Three things, and then the rest will be
wiped away."

God thought for a little time.
And at last He said:
"No, there is nothing."
The Devil was surprised.
"Not even you, Lord?" he said.
And God said:
"No. Not even me."
--------------------------------------
god. i freakin' LOVE this poem.

another favorite

The CarnEvil
is coming to your town
no that's not the walking dead
it's just a silly clown

we're open every midnight
but we close before the dawn
your mother may come looking for you
but by that time -we'll be gone.
------------------------------------
read it off the side of a video game (CarnEvil) at some arcade somewhere.
commited it to memory and enjoyed it ever since.
p.s. if i've made a mistake in the actual word sequence (i.e. someone out there who's more pathetic than i am, in the fact that they too have wasted valuable noggin space to remember such trite) feel free to correct me.

poem

setting up barriers
between brain and heart
try to keep matters of
church and state apart
cauterize all feelings is
the only cure
of this disease we call emotion, love's
the worst symptom for sure
friendship always starts with happiness
and always ends with hurt
they move away or simply leave you
lying in the dirt
be wary of their pseudo charm
and smiles so full of teeth
too soon you'll find them biting flesh
to suck what's underneath
in this world of hungrey parasites
i'd rather be alone
my heart is frozen/ now it feels
as if
it's made
of stone

doomsday

i've heard the prophecies
of the saints
what a pretty
picture they paint
the future's full of
holding hands
and unity
across the land

but i've seen days coming
as dark as night
and twice as bleak
the young will prey
upon the old
the strong
will feast upon
the weak

quarreling, fighting,
slipping, sliding
moral standards
shall decay

edge your weapons
bolt your houses
armageddon's
on its way
-------------------------

radio station

good morning america
my beloved bastard nation!
it's yet another cheerful morning
so rise! get out of bed!
fathers, read your papers
then off to work
mothers, drink your coffees
then off to clean
children, eat your breakfast
then off to school
listen carefully to your instuctions
the average citizen's not a fool.

love poem- my style

in a tiny cemetary
in a hamlet close to Dover
stand the forlorn little tombstones
of a young bride and her lover

oh the sorrow was tremendous
the whole town was quite bereaved
for their deaths came unexpected
right upon their wedding eve

they interred the bodies side by side
while the ringer rung a knell
and above the graves they placed the bud
of the rose from the groom's lapel

time has gone by as it as it always does
and new years have been brought in
but the illy-fated couple
have still not gone forgotten

for on the anniversary
of the night that should have been
if you look out on the graveyard
there's a wonder to be seen

two skeletons will rise up
from their long and peaceful rest
though the rose bush's roots are tangled
in the groom's now boney chest

watch him pick each flower as daintily
as his fingers will allow
then he weaves it in a garland
wich he then places on her brow

and he bends over to kiss her
for he never had the chance
then to the music of the crickets
they both join hands and dance and dance

poem (diary?)

here i write a diary
for someone else -i don't know who
jotting down dreams
and secret desires
the name might be false
but the content's all true

invalid jubilee

so ring the bell to summon the deaf
let the handless play the lute
we'll dance the jig of the legless
we'll sing the song of the mute
we'll taste the food of the tongueless
and ask the blind what they see
we'll have as much fun as everyone else
invalid jubilee

lousy day

my mind's on blah
i don't know why
my gloomy thoughts
reflect the sky
this day so far's
done nothing right
my head's too loose
my skin's too tight
the dark's too dark
the light's too light
all sound's too loud
as of a whole
where's the global
volume control?
the road's too black
the grass too green
my ear's feel like
i'm submarine
my vision's blurred
my voice sounds slurred
i can't make out
a single word
serenity's too high
upon the shelf
i'm being a crank
just being myself

musings of a scarecrow

alone

in the high grasses i stand
as i smartly guard the corn
although the birds-
they all mock
and they all scorn

at my duty

as they perch upon my arms
in the distance there's a farm
with a stable
it was there i was made

in the longest darkness night
black as the unending pit
save for the small yet steadfast light
of one solitary star
that shone brightly overhead
yes, my appetite they fed
with their straw

but now i'm simply quite amazed
that the questions i have raised
which seem to me to have no flaw

where are my ministers and preachers
and the knowlege-hungry teachers
who so yearn
to find something they can learn
from the flames that flare and burn
in caverns of my soul?

was i not also hung upon a cross?
where are my temples?
where are my priests?

do i not die for you
each night and day?
where are my kings of the east?

not a mural
nor mosaics
have been created
in my name

i'm a god
with no believers

what a shame

my jewish teen poem (apologies in advance)

master of the universe
what am i to do?
there's a girl i know, in a belly shirt
who i love more than you
while i know that you're here
and there and everyplace
i can talk to her
on the phone or face to face
you're all knowing and all seeing
i'll readily agree
yet it seems that my companion only
sees the best in me
you are, you were, and you will be
everlasting- outside space and time
although for- this puppet of flesh and blood
that's here and gone- will do just fine
and so god, though i love you with all my heart,
this offer is simply too good to resist
yet still i'm willing to negotiate
but please first answer the rest of the list.

[unwanted] guest

welcome to my humble abode
please wipe your shoes off upon my face
it's pouring outside- like a torrent of tears
i'm so glad you could finally come to my place

would you like to lie down?
all the linen is fresh
on the bed i originaly made for myself
but it's yours now- there could be no other way
i would have it- please, i'm afraid for your health

be sure to tuck yourself in tight
i hope your sleep's both sound and warm
i'll do my utmost in not to cry out
and hold my breath until the morn.

open your eyes

silently we fade away
till we are nothing
nothing more
than a fuzzy memory

open your eyes!
and watch everything around you
shrivel up and die
no one but no one can
-buy their way
-talk their way
-con their way
out of it

the more money you collect
the more is printed
- when will you see?
the more you buy
the more they make
look at you-
squandering garbage for garbage

a puppy is very cute
-on the outside
but look within
does the policy last?
a baby's cute too, you know

summer comes and summer goes
winter is bound to follow
there's beauty in each
i won't deny it
i'm simply curious which is the greater of the two evils
will it be fire?
-or-
will it be ice?
that will be the end of the world.

just one thing i'll keep (?)

i've given you all that i've had

'cept...

bent over backwards
and shattered my spine
opened the locks to the
all that is mine

but...

gave my eye teeth for you
severed my feet for you
gave you the skin off my nose

yet...

still i remain
in your debt

though...

i have a pretty gift
of boxes in paper
that's wrapped up with ribbon
that hold my insides

oh...

from thyroid to spleen
and all that's between
are folded in folds
of the finest fine linen

no...

still beating i've torn
my own heart out
i broke through
the bones and the muscle
with no qualms
or regret

and...

now i stand broken
with only one token
of life i have given
and still you are driven
to enter the vaults
of the keep
of my head
just this i deny you
just this i defy you
for what is a man with no mind?
not more than fake horse's behind.

abuse (? for lack of a better title)

i have a castle in my head
with a big enormous moat
and the water's filled with bodies
of my every enemies
that all do the deadman's float

i have a tower in my head
that is made of ivory
and the roof is burnished brass
all the windows are stained glass
and the tower's all for me!

i have a palace in my head
with an onion dome
and mosaics tiles the floor
with a mighty stout oak door
and this palace is my home...

i've a dungeon
it is not more than a cell
(sniff) my spirit's torn and ragged
(sob) from the glass shards sharp and jagged
this is hell
this is hell
this is hell...

poem (-rough. tell me how to fix it)

dear friends,
i know this seems to be the end
yet, it isn't
i'm just turning 'round the bend
as you too shall
later than sooner
-i hope (if you hope)-

has it been an eventful life?
certainly,
however, joy always has it's price
to pay
for it is very precious
in the average eye
-but why?-

and so, i leave you
and so, i leave you all i own
although,
i do not leave you
cash or cars or collateral
of any kind
[but rather]
bills and bile and broken hearts
i leave you as well,
a piece of me
to stay behind
and kindle and dwell
in each of you

the earth may swallow me whole
(and alive? who can say?)
it might be dark and cold
[still i show no fear]
my body return to dust
(or my maker)
-or possibly both?-
and i laugh, haha ha
for a laugh hides all sorrow
[like a clown]
yes, i'm to be one with the ground
please, do not weep
for we shall meet again
this is not
[by any means]
goodbye.

poem

civilized heathens
that's what we are
worshipping gods of paper and ore
services begin promptly at nine
and will conclude sometime after four

sophisticated primates
each of of us are
maybe darwin was right after all
or maybe the exact opposite has occured
if we hung on a branch, do you think we would fall?

if we were mere maggots
that would better
if the lord made us maggots; i would applaud
for maggots don't prey on the living
unlike us
maggots won't feed on their kin
unlike us
no, maggot may not be aware it's a maggot
but it definitely knows it's not god