Wednesday, December 28, 2005

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.

Monday, December 26, 2005

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.

Friday, December 23, 2005

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!

Thursday, December 22, 2005

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

Wednesday, December 21, 2005

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

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

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?

Friday, December 16, 2005

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.

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

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.