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Yael Zivan Nov 2014
He was old, but in a way that made it clear that he knew that growing old was a privilege.

He smelled like the rain. Like clouds and thunder, and he felt like sunshine when he touched my skin.

She could appreciate the thousand stories and million memories from a room full of detritus, keepsakes of a life lived without concern for colouring in the lines. A life of an artist. Not always happy, but lived in such a way that your whole world is a story worth telling.
Yael Zivan Oct 2014
I feel the exhaustion,
It creeps in.
My eyelids sag and flicker
I should have boundless energy.
My mind is getting sicker.
I'm tired.
Choices wound around.
Devices bleep.
All i want to do is sleep.

The balance of candor and forced affection
I meander from metric reason
To blissed indulgence

But between the desire
The good and the fun
The gap through the wires
Of who i become

I want the addiction.

The pleasant and sweet
The entertainment, the lazy
The chatting and treats

I want to be someone
A person of greatness
To write and to compose
And comment and state thus

But i stop for a minute
And look to the west
What should i be doing
Not working
no rest

I've fallen down the rabbit hole
My life is flying past me

The gentle dance of existing
Perceive me as you will
We all become dust one day

What difference is my will.
All that matters is my kindness

How i live each day
With presence
Joy and mindfulness
With silent smiles i pray

Thats cute and all, but not the truth
The truth is far more deep

I wish i could divine it's worth
But all i do is sleep.
Yael Zivan Nov 2014
Autumn leaves and sunsets.
A world spinning
out of balance,

and the sluggish me slowing down to realize all that I am no longer.
I see a worm, a slug, a tiny massive thing.

Indolent, sallow, lost and afraid, I cling to what I can and eat to feel numb.

Working and waiting to feel something.
Meaning, connection, understand my purpose, and eyes get farther away from what it longs to understand.

This body gets long and heavy and tired, eyes close, and arms grab whatever is around. wrapping tight in heavy blankets.

I made these quilts. I made them with my hands when life was fun
and work a thought filled blessing.

I spun the threads that now encase me. I bury myself, deep down into the cold earth.
Hide from the lies, and the worthless feelings, and listen to the heartbeat of the goddess.

Her warmth will see me through.
To the next life
next form
Where I can shed this layer.
Emerge as myself.

Incarnate with colors to behold in the eyes of young and old.

Let me be winged, and the chrysalis not be needed anymore.

Rebirth this butterfly.
Yael Zivan Oct 2014
Many times I've circled the solar system,

And as I age the colors fade. My world is old to me,

The magic leaks away.

The oppressive thoughts crowd and clutter,

Corporate Slavery takes president over fairy houses and tree climbing.

So when I see the world through the eyes of a lover,

It's as if I am a child again.

The pain has been washed away.
The monotony of this old world belongs to the true adults.

I'm light as a child, and free as a bird.

Through the face of my lover I see the whole world.

I guess that's what love is.
What love's meant to do.

Make us see the beauty again. Hear the music, feel the breeze, wish to soar,

Maybe it gives us wings to try.

And even the pain. The shattering of a beating heart.

The pain is potent
and real
and beautiful.

It's a child's emotion. Raw and important. We need it.
We need it to remind us that we aren't stone,
we are bodies that heal and regrow and adapt every day.

Lost souls, last words, Separation and the prayer for reconnection.

Kisses and being held, Feeling safe in the arms of another.

Being seen as a soul of purest light.
Staring into the eyes. Two bodies, one universe.

Makes me feel small and safe. Like a child again.
Being loved unconditionally.
Yael Zivan Dec 2014
See it melt you
You're eyes see what you can't have
Stone heart and warm fingers
A struggle between easy and bad

Never Mind  what they tell you
Never Mind  the games that you win
Success means nothing to that one
To her you'll never fit in

There goes the young man who hurt you
He'll torment and invade your mind
You want to strangle and beat him to end it
But an eye for an eye makes you blind

Expand and contract for salvation
Surrender to what you don't know
Love takes and it takes and it breaks you
So you grab what you can and you go.
Yael Zivan Oct 2014
Ripped, torn. My trust was yours and you slashed it apart.

Bleeding, unborn, broken, I wandered in sea of lost

Colors, never. They faded like black blood.

Greyer days i’d never seen, like grey and silken mud.

Sunken, food was never tasted, so I rejected it.

Skinny, crude, lazy, Wallowing in pain
of loosing
you.

My future was a pinprick of light and a hell hole of darkness between me and ending.

But in the darkest place of my longest night. When my bones showed through this endless fight.

I lit a flame and color formed. I burned my shame and cut the chord.

I sent you love and felt more whole. Not healed not better, but for my soul,

It meant something.
And now i see, i planted a seed but not a tree…

But now so long now has time come through.

The light is bright and colored too!

The glowing gold of sun and sky shine through the green of leaves that i,

cultivated and let be fed, with glories of this world, undead…

Reborn and breathing in the sight. Of all the beauties, and all the right….

My wounds i stiched with a single thread, a needle *****, but no blood bled.

The glowing hues of days to lead, began to water and warm my seed.

Now every ******* day it grows.
Even the nights, a blue black rose.
And my love is back.
The world wants me,
and the odds are stacked.

I’m here you see!

existing, thriving, held, a dove.

My branches lifting, flying, above.

I see you now, not far away.

Living on as we do every day.

I love you still, but not like before.
I can see your body and not need more.

Because i light the fire inside myself.

I don’t need another to put me on a shelf.

I am whole as I am, in breaking and birth.

This tree that is me will increase in girth.

And the colors get brighter, because the heart is sewed tight.

My tree exhales wonder,
rainbows in sight.
It has a happy ending.
Yael Zivan Nov 2014
Curious curious little boy
When will you learn, little girls are no toy

Curious curious little girl,
When will you know, virginity's no pearl

Curious curious little politician
When will you learn my future is missin

Curious curious little consumer
When will you realize the world's getting poorer

Curious curious human beings
Stop with the blindness and start with the seeing...
When will you decide to stop the drilling, and the billing, and the mass grave sight killing? And the shaming and the blaming and the sleeping child maming?
The spying and the crying and the nature is dying.
And realize the truth that the cage is in your mind
Just go back to the wild
With the rivers trees and the vines
The oceans and mountains
Canyons and pines
Forget all the poisons
Remember respect.
The feeling of bodies that don't suffer neglect.
Breathe in the fresh air
Inhabit the earth
rekindle the spirit
You were given at birth

Curious curious,

Its simply you see.
Let's not let this end us.
Let's choose to be free
Yael Zivan Oct 2014
The frozen river,
Grey mist and cold air escape from little thankful lungs.
I hold your hand.
Your body walks beside me,
Our shadows blend to one.
On the outside your figure looks unscathed,

Your face is bare and clean, your eyes look out clear and blank and mild.

Your hands unclenched and loosely draped,
arms sway slightly from side to side as ballast
for the steps you take.

Broken though. Broken so very deeply.

So that every step your body takes,

you hear the sound of glass.
The ***** and jangle, the music of an utterly shattered self.

I hear you breaking, though you drown it in your headphones.

As you pass me in the street I hear the squelch of your shoes.

Soaked in your own blood so your socks are brown like mud.

And your eyes, they are unguarded as you gentley start to topple.

Vortex of pleaing pain and weighted silence.

A tornado of anguish inside your iris.

As you inhale, your scars are whiter than your teeth.
You pull me in, You want to grab me and beg for help.

For mercy, for release, for suffocation. But you have no voice,

Your tears are gushing but they don't feel wet.

You're flat, and shiny and utterly destroyed,

Beyond repair. The damage is done.

And so I release the mirror,

till our shadows blend,

and the blood is dried,

and the pieces scattered, and the shattered mirror will rest at the bottom of the river.

Only I stand on the bridge.

One body, not two.

Nothing to remind me of you.

But the shattered hole
in the frozen river,
Yael Zivan Oct 2014
I wish i didnt exsist

I wish i had no body, maybe just for a moment

I don't wish it in an emo depressive way
I'm not one of those poor countless souls that cut their wrists with razor blades in hopes
They can spell out help in blood.

I'm no longer the girl who hates the curves that surround her, and wishes herself into a skeleton.

I don't have a wish to end my life,
I wish to be completely part of all existence
Instead of separate in this one body.

People look to me as a friend or neighbor.
A girl or woman. Size me up. Size me down.
Tell me to smile, ask me to speak.
Beg to own pieces of my spirit and identity
Request that their relationship with me be significant
Or exclusive. Shame my choices or my prudence.

I want no part in this. It belongs to us all.
I just want to be. My face in the sky.
My hands in the fire
My feet in the moss
My eyes,
Let them belong to the sea. The salt water tears and the eternal blue of crashing waves

If my body were no more, i could hear the earths heart beat. If my body were gone
My spirit could inhabit every mountain waterfall. Every friendly word. Every lovers touch. Distance doesn't exist if you are nowhere and everywhere at once.
Without my conscious, i could think of many things. Without the insecurities of self and ego. I could wonder at the complexities of life.  
I could breathe in stars and echo and dream with the imagination of a sleeping moth.

I could exist in every dimension. In all possible futures, in every world .

I could exist outside the shell of all that is in that beautiful in between. Where all the things that have happened, are happening, and will happen exist side by side in a cluttered jumble of the impossibly true.

And i could sit beside you. And hold your head in my thought hand. And brush your hair with my thought fingers. I could kiss you with my thought mouth. And take you flying with my dream wings.
I could be ****** inside your every breath like specks of light seen in dusty sunbeams. I would flood your body with every beat of your heart. Warm your every extremity. Circulate through your mind and flash your brain with dopamine.

I want to exist completely. I want to blur the edges. From me and (you)niverse.

My wish to die is my greatest love poem.
My words lie down on the page in prostrated adoration of all existence.

But I love this mortal cage, this beautiful miracle of life and breath. These lungs these legs, this bounding heart. It stops one day. It melts away. It feeds the ground. It makes no sound.

My heart will deflate, a nail will rust and moss will cover me.

And i'll have gone. Become the wind.
For now this place is my truest home.
And i care for her and let her grow,

And try and hear the earths heartbeat
But instead my stomach growls and my fingers twitch. And little plastic toys go bing in the night. So let me sleep.

And dream of oblivion.

And when i wake i'll accept my existence with grace and gratefulness.


For Angels wish for flesh

And i wish for death

The wind wishes it was a kite

Blind wish for sight

Owls beg for night

And shadows wish for light.

And I wish...
Yael Zivan Aug 2016
we are earthlings

and toxic words drench our bodies

and clog up our rivers and arteries

with sugary fakeness and farcities

and smoggy neglect

and hate we elect

leaders that fail and fail

our kids who cut their arms

and smoke pretty rings of smoke to the sky

that hasn't had stars

in a long time.
Yael Zivan Oct 2014
I have never lost someone. until now. Death must be worse. I don’t know what it truly feels like to loose someone that you love. Someone that you have put so much of yourself into. To only have one person carry the burden of all the beautiful days you spent together. Whether it’s a parent, a lover, a friend, or a sibling. A loss of such a magnitude cannot merely fade. It must create a crater in the survivor. A deep wound that creates a void. And we all know that the universe hates the void and must fill it. It fills that void with tears and sometimes addiction and depression. Eventually if you make it through the pain, other people fill the void in your life. New friends, a new lover, a mentor, or perhaps a heightened sense of self. Sometimes you feel the presence of the one you lost. And you feel them loving you even though their body is gone. But when you loose someone and they are violently cut out of your life but continue to live their own separate one as if you were never connected, this is a barren alien place. Dare i say worse then death? I won’t be sure till i have experienced that and perhaps i hope it isn’t worse because i don’t know if i can survive much more. I can, and I will but I will never choose this. This pain that eats at my life. It hides in the corners of my eyes. It seeps into my dreams. It infects every happy place and basks in the sun of my day dreams causing me to slink back into the shadows. Because when death divides us from what we love, there is no communication except for what is left behind. But whatever is left behind; words, memories, pictures, spaces, they are infused with the sacred. It is sad but still pure. They still love you somewhere right? They meant all the things they said. They cared.

But death does not divide me. So i could talk to the person i am loosing. But they have stopped caring. Maybe they never did. If i had died then i would never have been forgotten. That’s what he told me that day by the river when the smoke burned my eyes and the cold clung to my skin and the other two were wondering the path of new beginnings. He said if i were to die he would not see the point in carrying on. Friend or Lover he didn’t care. He just wanted to be there as i padded along the path of uncertainty. But he changed or maybe I did too. The love in his voice was slowly replaced by desire and impatience. The care in his actions were replaced by responsibility and entitlement. And when his wildest fantasies were scheduled into his calendar and ticked off like a to do list, crammed in with other little dates and times, then i was not the first and only love of his life but the girl who embarrassed him at parties. So death, though you come for us all and most say you come too soon. Perhaps you have come too late. Too late at least to turn this simple boy into a star crossed lover. He was in disguise and i believed it. He wore a pretty mask. He still is disguised even to himself. He pretends to be good and nobel and misunderstood. But he lacks dimensions and most of all he lacks Limerence. Limerence, the ability to maintain love. So i have lost someone, but not to death or even distance. I have lost someone to reality. Because if he really loved me he would never have let this be our ending.
death, heartbreak, over it now but good writing happened, dying, losing friends, breakup, cheating, overrated, i'm quite happy now thanks for asking, i am at peace,
Yael Zivan Aug 2016
My poor dear

You have forgotten how to love

and how to listen

to my perfect words.

You look away and your eyes blur.

You have forgotten me and the sound my voice makes

when i say i care enough. And you don't say anything

You are the soldier that comes back from war to find that life existed before death. But not after.

I have given up all of what i was

and then grew up

and out and away

from all the pain thats holding you so warmly in its arms

you'll leave when your ready..

but you are incapable of loving me right now.
Yael Zivan Oct 2014
Music suspends me...
This moment, half present.
Infinitely conscious,
Flying,
Grounded,
Held
Remembered.
Vibrating at the same frequency as the music
At the same rhythm as you.
We fill the empty spaces
Cascading
Parading
Serenading
Through the hollow places
Replacing dust
and air
With ******
And care
Filling vast and distant futures
With promises and plans.
Filling empty streets
with kissing silhouettes and lovers trance
Together with hands held fast
We explore the darkest torments of our past
And rebirth those stories, give them new shape.
Remembering the raisin
is still a grape.
We liberate ourselves from from historic grief
We find
we wield the power
to our future souls relief

If now i could fill the empty spaces between your music and mine,
So that the strings of our instruments
We braided fine
So that nights like this,
So dark
And cold
Could fill with stars with lights so old
That they reach us
even after they've gone out

Now the year is dying
The colors getting lost
Taking one last bow
Before the winters frost
Now I'm remembering glorious days
When we were stars
And lovers and busked on bridges
With passioned kisses ablaze

I listen to nature sounds,
write letters, pluck songs
Do my rounds

And think of that moment
Suspended in time
Were i was yours
And you were mine

We don't own each other
And never will
For i am not a bank and you are not a till
Be we were one and made up of light
Like pinpricks in the night
Made up of stars
A star with no name
Suspended in music
Octaves apart
We vibrate
The same
music, stars, souls, lovers, feminism,
Yael Zivan Nov 2014
Fires in ferguson
Bridges in Brooklyn
The youth in the streets cry out in unison
Hands up
Don't shoot
A young man took twelve bullets
Because he was brown
Battered bodies on the ground
This countries streets are paved in glass
and blood
The air we breath is tear gas
And polluted by discrimination
We are connected by rage
And in this day and age
We are convicted by fear
The civil servants drive armored vehicles
The oppressed pay takes to the oppressors
Who pays for the tank that the city bought?
Who pays for the policeman's bullets?
How hard is it to live without fear of death from your own government.
ISIS is less threatening
Than the grand jury
This story keeps coming back into our history books. Trayvon Martin,
Michael brown,
Emmet till
I am no longer proud to be american
We all live in
MISsouERiY
Yael Zivan Nov 2014
We used to talk more,
you and I.
When I was the sea and you were the sky.

I'd sit with you and hold your head.
And ask you how you like your bread.
and maybe kiss you on the eyes.
and let the winter hide your lies.
And listen to your sleeping cries.
and your heartbeats
your cavernous chest.
Your mystery waiting to be explored.
But others ignored.
And I grew
like i said i would never do

and so
i forget that I am in love with you.
But you are good.
You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.
And I miss wanting you.
I miss what you brought out in me.

I know the next will not know you like I did.
Because my beloved you are dying.
You're melting, bleeding, drowning body, will sink us all.

Or perhaps not.
Perhaps you are just the healthy body you always were and your fever is killing me off, like an infection.

Let me stay
I promise to worship you
once I have control of my limbs again
and can stand in your sight.
and love all of you
I can still hear it
The still surviving pulse.
Forgive us.
Yael Zivan Oct 2014
No more fighting ghosts in the night,

No more judging my motives, stupid or right.

Time to relish the sun, shine in the moon, shiver in starlight,

Wish i could fly on a broom.

Wrapped up in Autumn i kiss winter hello.

Steep myself just deep enough that i eat bubbles as i go.

Then merge completely into darkness, and make art with the union of bitter and sweetness.

Drink deep my love,
         My cup is brimming,
and my love is abundant and ever flowing,
    My life a swift river of shifting choices,
All of them blessings, like contented sleep noises,
ever breaking mornings.
coffee metaphor, i'm a barrista, latte, i'm happy
Yael Zivan Nov 2014
Long white arms,
She had long white arms.
Almost glowing with their own light.

And long black hair. So black that the light seemed to be ****** into it's depths. It stole the lightness.

Eyes so stormy the sea bucks and brays when it sees the thunderclouds behind long thick lashes.

Her whole body is humming.

Deep powerful energy inside.
It's impossible to extract the nature of what's causing the convulsions.
Light or dark.
Milk or Coffee...
Or ancient pulsing rivers.
But it is causing her to crack and sway and cry and pray.
She took a razor

A razor so sharp it could cut through the worlds.

And she sliced a piece of pure white skin,

and out poured royal blue blood.

With hints of purple and specks of gold, and greenish hues,
with stars so old that you see the light of a million years ago, but it gets caught in your eye centuries after it dies.

The blood pours from her, trickle then a flow, expanding the universe.
Giving birth to galaxies.
And the energy is released from her.
The darkness and the light.
The demons and goddesses.
They all leave in a silent procession.
and she sways and topples, thundercloud eyes grow dark, then roll up and away.

Convulsions cease as she is submerged in the blue veined sea of her own creation.

The silent procession of her dark possession leaves on tiny ships into the dark horizon. Purple and gold galaxies.

We are all born from goddess blood.
Yael Zivan Aug 2016
Is anyone Happy anymore?

Did they teach us how in the class rooms?

where we learned to be cruel

and pick at the open sores

and find the chinks in the armor...

Where we learned about love

and how it makes you weak

and we learned about Joy

and where it comes from.

Dominance and Praise, and adults who tell us we are

special.

And don't forget. to waste your time

filling all the gaps in your mind.

and schedule in success. But not too much.

and collect wealth until your mansion stands tall

and casts shadows on the green grass

and wonder if you missed the class

on how to be happiest
Yael Zivan Dec 2014
Look forward.

How beautiful is this life.
Yael Zivan Nov 2014
Still the winters clutch at straws
the stars reflect what isn't there.
Time is distant when you don't want to live.
And life is boundless when death sleeps in your bed.
It's time to start the bitter walk
past all that I once was.
And pick up the pieces that I forgot.
With frozen fingers tune the strings
And play the scattered notes.
Yael Zivan Dec 2014
Hold you
Till your wings fall still
Till the light is shadowed
By the window
And the bees rest
And the blossoms fall
Till the graves are filled
And the notes stop ringing
Pages burned
Food consumed
And then through the long winter night
Where sweaty hands grasp each other
And pretend that monsters
Just live in childhood
And parents never die
Hold me
Hold me till this wretched air that fills my lungs has all but fled
Hold me till me ribs creak and crack
And painted faces with rosey fingers
Paw the pavement
***** the spinning wheel
Tell me the stories
That have happy endings
And kiss me till i wake
To find that true love
Isn't something sold by eharmony
Hold us
Till the sunrise
Dusts the demons and invites all
To return to the ordinary grief
Of day to day dying
Holding on to nothing
Because death
does not
Have a plus one
Yael Zivan Aug 2016
When I bloom

my skin is sweet

my eyes are brilliant

my words are music

and my lips are honey.

and when i cry
i bleed

and i'm alone.

the birds find roost

in a different tree

and the bees find nectar

far from me
Yael Zivan Oct 2014
I wont write you a ****** poem
I'll write you the universe
But it wont look like how you imagined it
But that's life i guess
Please just remember me as you dreamed of how i was
Do not think of the tragic reality
Keep your eyes closed to shadowed corners of my imperfect mind

Hold hands like two gods intertwined in the fractal light of infinite creation
Not like two awkward almost grown people reacting to hormones and insecurities

It's what we want to believe
It's what the world is

And after working that desk job and paying that pension is success and happiness the same?
In the end we just turn into worm food
Do i really want to spend any time doing the safe thing?
I want to jump into loving you
And by loving you I am encircling the entire universe in endless love. It's more then love. Love is what you text your crush at 2 am or before your parents get on a plane. We need a new word for love.
Something that means full and endless devotion and acceptance of all the pieces of the world good and bad. For all that is and was and will be. Wanting all of it to be raised to the highest level of heavenly divine. Wanting to hold the world in your heart and breath eternity into is so it can last as it is forever in it's incandescently beautiful pieces. That is how i love you . Thats how i want to love the world.
But instead i'll sit in a ball on the edge of my bed, doodling stars and wishing the words would come and i could stop writing ****** poems. Ill sit on the edge of my bed and wish i could write the universe...
Yael Zivan Nov 2014
The lights that were infinite,
dance across time and space, but they didn't also.
because when all you are is unconscious consciousness. Matter without form. Energy without inertia, time and space are not things that you can comprehend so you just are, and then you decided that you were apart from other things and so bodies happened, and well... here we all are...


And now a different body is in her freshman year of high school . She is not unlike the many other bodies that attend high school or have attended high school since high school existed so we shall not compare her to you or I or anyone else. Or romanticize her inner turmoil so that she is special and heroic. She is human. But we will feel what she feels. Because though it seems now she is separate, she is merely the pinky on the universe of unity and the strand of hair on the giant goddess that is all of existence. But I digress...

These souls have bodies now. And they line the halls like ghosts in purgatory. Some lucky ones have adorned themselves in precious things, and walk with bold and bouncing steps. Most of them however let their necks drop, their shoulders hunch, they drag their feet toward the next place to sit and let time die for an hour. Eyes dart nervously or stare off into distances that from the faces expression of mild distain is a distance of people that are neither interesting or pleasant.

And our little friend is lost. Lost in the trappings of an unnatural place. The need to be excepted, the fear of being rejected.
The pain of being in a place that doesn't value your gifts, but trains you to adapt your own thinking to please someone who doesn't care.

Sometimes our little friend is kind, and sometimes she is cruel. But she doesn't know what she wants. She knows that people send her videos on her phone saying she is ugly and taunt her even though they used to be friends. She talks about the friends she has behind their backs. They are boring she says.

The never have anything to say.

We are all thoses pieces of pain. Every decision is watermarked.

Balast and bait.

For every painful moment we nurse well into our 40's,
we cut a thousand bitter words into another.

Our quiet thoughts breed hate and envy.

Our callus hearts beat with the blood of our ancestors.

My ancestors are the oppressors and the oppressed.

Haunted chased Jews of Europe,
Haunting hunting Afrikaaners,
after black blood.

How do we grow, will it make a difference?

Of course it will.

Pull open the blinds and let in the light.

Smash down the doors, rip holes through the roof.

Shut off the grid and see the stars reflect in every surface...

Or just forget that you are apart from anything else,
take in the darkness, and the lights that were infinite.
Yael Zivan Nov 2014
Where has my light gone?

It used to be there.
Inside my chest.

You could reach in and peak at it. Glowing always.

Time is slipping

or maybe time is constant and I am falling behind.

Is it to late to save the memories, as time floods past me?

What was I when I was small.

That child so fierce and true.

Present, curious, always prepared, in training for a life of wild possibility.

Now alone, sick, and lazy, uninspired and utterly unmotivated,

I search for the spark that lit me before.

That light that I knew was unique to me.

I am special. I am meant for great things, I am the hero.

Who whispered these false words to me as I dreamed.

Was it my own strange ego elixir that I concocted and fed myself daily?

Was it angels who told me these things?

Are the still true?

Will they ever be?

Where has it gone. That light that fed me and kept me alive and angry...

Caged and dependent; I was still free.

My mind is in a cage now.

attached to wires that beep and pulse and need constant energy.

I want to cut them away from me, but those wires are the only things connecting me to my world.

Do I want to be a half dead battery leaching away at my own life?

Could I escape before it’s to late?

I search for pleasure, distraction, entertainment, stimulation.

Make me feel again.

Anything.

Approve of me.

I have to escape this maze. Rip out these chords, let the blood remain on the ground.

Time to run to the silence, let me hear silence.

My ears will have to break the addiction too.

No more white lines blocking their sense.

Time to be alone with myself and finally hear the universes heart beat within me.

But what if my boss calls?

What if i am too late?

I will open the tiny box inside my chest, and it will be empty.

Darkness.

No light remaining.
Yael Zivan Oct 2014
Invisible Wires

They pull me towards you, at the speed of time.

Notice how my feet drags, Notice how my eyes sag,

I wish I were unattached, to mind the rushing future

I fear the cracking and the breaking of all that love has painted for me

The hollowness is filled with joys and reverberates with woe,

Please forgive me emptiness, I’m not sure where I find myself

If i take up less of myself then less of me will be useless

Earl of shadows, grant me a sign.

Take me to the dark fortress of earthly understanding

What is that urge that i cannot express?

To whom do i write my sad soliloquies?

Why does anyone see me? How does light reflect on the shell of regret,

What is there to be understood past the silly ramblings of a cub

For though the wires pull me forward, i stare back in confusion.

to all that i have missed, and all that i won’t remember

I haven’t grown as i should. Who is the soul that is being pulled to me and i to you

I know i will love you as i love my own demons. So love me as you love yours and the world will be our immortal garden as much as any sidewalk can support these heavy steps.
strange thoughts, streams of consciousness,
Yael Zivan Dec 2014
I was the water

And you were the sky,

we blended and sang

rebirth in a sigh


I was the water

and you were a boat,

When you were unsure

I would just let you float


I was the water and you were a jar

I cleaned you and kept you

and couldn’t go far


I was the water

and you couldn’t see

so i bathed your sweet eyes

and let you be free


I was the water

and you were in pain

the scratches and blood

were all that remained

So i cleaned off the blood
and the venom and hate

And you danced to a new fire
while I pondered my fate


I was the water

and you were the flame

and I boiled and I sparked till you said my name

then I was mist and fog in the air

And you remembered the off switch

but I was no longer there


I was the water

and you were the shore

Until I deserted you

when I could stand it no more


Now i am salt and pain and pieces of you mixed in

but you are arid and thirsty,
dehydrated again.

I was the water
and you were the horse

I came inside to quench your thirst

and there I remained till you died in the street

and i left you little carbonite to dust at my feet.


I was the water

and you were the sea

The moon and the stars

and eternity
i thought of this one in the shower
Yael Zivan Aug 2016
I walked through the town as an invisible ball of pain. And I said not a single word to you.

To that boy I saw today laughing

You are a child
You hurt people
You are reckless, selfish
And you feel like a grenade

And I just wanted to cut myself

I wanted to cut myself to release the feeling I had

I can understand the unfixable turmoil inside those who wish to die. The pain too great to bear. Like a soul inside a claustrophobic unresponsive submarine. Not knowing that oblivion will **** them out if they press the metal to their pumping veins, breathless, voiceless throats. You hurt me and make me feel like a motherless child. No. Worse. Like a childless mother.
When I

Am an INCOMPREHENSIBLE GODDESS

UNSINKABLE, UNTHINKABLE.

UNQUENCHABLE

God
I hate the pain you feel

That you can hurt someone who loved you and cast away a tiny beautiful thing.

But I am darkness
I am empty places
After regret has plunged it's icy blade between both of yours

I am rocks on a harbor
with no lighthouse
I am sorrow
I am rage
And a thousand angry mama bears
I am a clear winter sky

So deep so cold so empty.
I would swallow you whole

Beware child

Mind

Where you Step
Yael Zivan Oct 2014
He sits in his car in a cloud of smoke

His tears turn milky and there's a crack in his voice,

He texts his friend he's too broken to talk,

But she was once broken too and knows how it feels

She wants all the world to forever be healed

He holds a torch and burns hard into soft, Makes the brittle glass melt,

Like he breaks girls hearts

But a broken heart cuts more than any other

with blood stained betrayal, and neglect and no father

He finally wants the friends to know

that he knows what he's done. He's unsure where to go

He knows that he's hurt her but she grew back and moved on

without the pain in her soul or a frown but a new song

He wants to be whole, he wants deserve his friends

He scorns those who have loved him.

Because he doesn't understand

what can they possibly see that is worth loving?

In his battered broken eyes he wishes words would wish him well

Instead of flaming images of all the trauma he's had to endure

Like the torch he holds in his hand he tries to control the pain and make it melt the broken brittle pieces of his shattered broken self.
Yael Zivan Dec 2014
Sometimes you love something so much you want it all the time
and the website says it's good for you, and all your friends pay for it but you get it for free. And you get the best stuff.

The dark fruity bitterness fills you with energy
and sometimes creativity
But then it keeps you up
distracted and distraught

And it's 4 am and you can't end this endless wave of panic

and you realize the coffee is causing your heart to fill with blood
and explode onto every single page

and you try to cry but that doesn't work.
So you try to sleep but you can't quite breathe
and you call and Angels but they are protecting someone else


It's time to kick the habit
So you let it go
Empty your cup

and remember how lovely a cup of sage tea can be. <3

Sometimes the things you love, love you back in all the right places.
Yael Zivan Aug 2016
Why do my poems

come true

after I write them..

When did it become the law

that you had to live the stories

that you wrote.

I wish I wrote fantasy

and not tragedy
Yael Zivan Aug 2015
They say
"You look like her!"
But they don't really know what she is
And neither do I
Her sunken turquoise eyes are rarely open
Her thin mouth moves and food that has dried around her lips never finds its way in.

She has stopped eating.

She looks hollow

She looks like the end has come and she's still waiting by the door

Beckoning the scythe
But death has not taken her hand

She whimpers and smiles

And sleeps for days


I do love you
But loving and grieving and dying and living

They are not the same

Like my hand on yours
We are just bones
Then stories

Then silence
And time spent
On forgetting to live
And delaying to die

I do look like her
same cheek bones
Same nose
But different stories

Because hers she told so many times that it told her how the rest would go

And my story is untold
So boldly I unfold my life in front of me.
All the steps are open towards infinite grace

But all we are, is bones then stories, then silence except for the sound of the door
When I say goodbye for the last time
Yael Zivan Jan 2015
I can paint you in a few short strokes,

Imagined, designed, fleshed out in passionate paint.

I'll enjoy my time, i truly will.

Our tiny window of creating and consummating.

Relating, remembering, expressing, then releasing.

Then i have done what i can.

It's not my own anymore.

Maybe this work never was.
Yael Zivan Nov 2014
My heart beats rapidly.

Alone i always am

My nervous hands are shaking

My body wants to run

To flee, escape, to hide, to shut the world away.
Driving, miles and miles, must not be late.
Fill the tank. No time to eat.
Always looking over my shoulder.
Wishing to sleep
Wishing to escape
To be warmed my the sun
Maybe by the light of your flame.
Maybe to find my own blazing fire

Must find the door. Driving. Ghosts haunt me: Call my name.
Want my attention. Scream in the night.
Wake up sweating. Time for work. Time to move
No food now. Drown in the music
find joy in the hope that tomorrow is lucrative. American dream. Slave ship destiny.
Prove yourself. Be strong, be a warrior.
Be remembered.

Long tall grass. The road stretches before me and time stands still for a moment. It looks at me, its eyes reflect infinity and it turns its heavy head. Antlers catch the moon. Then turns and runs. Faster and faster. Leaving me to wonder where it's gone off to.
Im stressed dude. No more
Coffee for me.
Yael Zivan Aug 2016
today

words ran away

and i had none left to say

i love you but please go away.
Yael Zivan Nov 2014
Do you remember?
remember the sound
The million cicadas humming so loud
That we didn't remember they were there
Until we left Princeton  and could hear the silence again.
Those cicadas  were 17 years old.
Ten years older then us.
Just discovering life.
Just like us
Remember the day we carved the four faced Jack o' Lantern
Our artists mothers let us be messy
Paper mâché bodies never grow up

Can you count the times we jumped from the oak tree? On to the trampoline.
Your brothers were mean

The times we plotted against them.
The times we went on adventures to the woods
The time we tried to dig to china using spoons in my front yard.
The time i fought over you with another girl
The time you liked me back but never said
The time you got sick and couldn't play
The time the doctors took you away
And you came back with a scar on the back of your head
Stitches and bruises and blood on the bed
The day we didn't play as much anymore.
The day when we sold our house on palmer lane
The day your mom's fiancé left and never came back
The day we spent by the river
And the day after when your mom brought roses
And sprinkled them on the road
As we drove south with the big yellow moving van
Remember forgetting the time we remembered
do you remember?
Yael Zivan Oct 2014
My spirit doesnt fit for long
It needs room to wander
For all of my many lifetimes
I meander and merge
Migrate and congregate
Relate and perpetuate

i breath
And i shift
My soul doesn't settle
Feathers frantic, curving rains
Tops of mountains, secret caves

It doesn't understand weight,
Light and free forever wandering
Forever lonesome, but relishing the clean stinging pain,
The solo sunrise
Boots on the ground.
New smiles to see
Best friendships lasts 5 minutes
Get a bright flash of me.
Thats all you need.
A streak, a shooting star
to pierce and uplift and connect and remember
Then off and out and alone

Sometimes my soul thinks it belongs
It holds on
It exhales
Breathing out all the air and tries to sink
To touch the bottom.
To remain, to be heavy and constant
A stone not a leaf,
But then no air. The drowning feeling. Panic and pressure and then the numbness creeps in. Conform, accept. Belong, work, remain, stop flowing, stay the knowing.
The weight of the water is warm and dull, crushing, aching,
Forgetting the joy of breath,
And lightness.
Forgetting my nature
Only taking comfort in the constance of depression
The hopeless relief of daily dying
Yael Zivan Feb 2015
Sailing away

In my boat build for two

Cut down the anchor

Bailed the water
i'm through

And a new tide will take me

Because i leave you behind

You're love like the seasons
Conditioned with pain
Will rasp and fade
Only hurt remain

And i don't feel safe in your arms anymore
Nor will i with another, my bruises still sore

I'm sailing my boat built for two by myself

I'm alright with this,
More space on my shelf

More time for the music
The song of the sky

The chopping of waves
Rebirth ocean sigh

And i love you like the moon and the stars and the sea

But your love is conditional
And it won't abide me

So i sail in my ship,
To islands that hum
With exciting new secrets
Unknown lovers yet to come

But if i think of you fondly from time to time

When the clouds cast me in shadow
And remember a rhyme

I remember your love
Was too good to be true

So i sail in my ship
That was once built for two
Valentines day
Yael Zivan Dec 2014
Suspended in ice,
Snow tastes like iron
I peel away the layers I have brought.

Bare chested, naked in the wastes.

White on White,
Pigment gone from my skin.
Only bones.
Skeleton Smile

I have stripped away all that does not serve me
Crawl into the snow tunnels.
Nestle in the season of night.
Kissed asleep by Polar bears

I no longer need you.

My wings will grow, and when the frost divides itself
and water rises back to these old trees.
Then I will take my leave.

Bright new wings need no one else to operate.
Panic is for ground dwellers
Depression is for cage prisons

That is not my Allegory.
Those tropes no longer serve.

Majestic, Mystic, Wanting none.
I exist
I grow,
I change,
I need the air beneath my wings,
I need the tide to tell me when
I don't need that which does not serve me.
Lies and useless pretty things
I don't need that which does not serve me.
That which never did.
Yael Zivan Oct 2014
The talk
that gets us nowhere
except the joy of hearing your own voice speak.
The stifling circles of meaningless rambling
justifying the normality of strange and stuttering minds.
Please hear and see me.
I am guilty of this.
But the silence punctuated by the most simple and profound truth.
Speak that

and no other words.
silence voices rambling chatter small talk shut up!
Yael Zivan Aug 2016
What if I dreamed you

Because I love you like I'm afraid to wake and find you gone
Yael Zivan Oct 2014
Some nights trace stars in my back,
the creases of my insecurities, the caress of a lover and the clattering echo of all the different futures, Inside my darkest doubts, a cavernous cave of ringing thought is crushed by the aching relief of certainty. Hold my hand, ground me to the earth, let me feel your bones, the essence of being human, captive in this body of feeling. Pleasure and pain. Proof that you can die and live. let me gaze at the crossing stars through your infinite eyes. This isn’t what you think. You understand it. Our stars are crossed as they fly by faster then thought, we whisper truths and perfect couplets of words, and blended notes of silly harmonies.

Some nights keep the dark at bay,
but some..

some nights revel in the unknown and wrap me in precious curiosity and newest beginnings. I love you
Yael Zivan Nov 2014
Catalyst catalyst catalyst she said as she circled round the tree

Please someone explain to me these massive squishy mushrooms

Sounds in the distance
Sounds in the close
She thinks of hot toddys and Guatemalan wanderings


GUNSHOT!! Live fire!! Death is clos.

it sits beside me chewing bark and throwing stones.

My orange armor guaranteed nothing because a gun cannot see colors.
Temperatures rise and ride and run and rip the clothes from my back,
Down down, soaked to the bone and seeing nothing but floating lives and absent ducks.

Hidden, breathing through a hollow reed, streams of consciousness once a pulsing river, disperses and separates into anothers eyes. For oxygen is no longer a comfort but a rare and fleeting commodity.
Without the breath i may as well bite the bullet that cannot see colors because it goes too fast to remember that things that move are alive in a way that it can only dream. In it's dark holster, a little tiny womb, it awaits its destiny, to terminate life, to embed itself in muscle and flesh.

What if we are bullets, that quiet womb our schools, being trained to fire, pay no attention to the colors. Do not ramble; rest until the trigger is pulled, then do your duty. There's another one behind you to take your place, go die in another battle.

Or sink where you cannot be seen, and breath no more.
Yael Zivan Oct 2014
I am my tears.
And i am my sweat
I am my pain and i am my regret

But i'm also the choice to say no to it all
To the hurt you have caused me and the choice not to fall.
Because had i had known you would treat me like this,
disgusted and guilty but worthy to kiss,
i would never have touched you or spoken your name,
sat by the fire and feel your love flame,
because you are a simple man
and you have simple desires,
you want what you don't have

and will do all that requires,

and once you have reached that.

The goal that you seek,


you look on to the next thing that looks bright and unique.
breakup, alone, he was being a *****,
Yael Zivan Oct 2014
Of these two souls
The difference
We both shine
Not a sun and a moon
One reflecting the light of the other
But having none of it's own
Completing and depleting each month
We are two stars
Twinkling our mysterious love for the universe to gaze at
But the distance is vast
And the space between is made of the deepest darkest matter
It consumes even time
So we send ourselves spinning
Orbiting, cascading, rambling,
soaring on wings of fire
Until for the smallest instant we are one light,
Then we pass
Perfect in union, and forever in perpetual solitude
But belonging to all of creation,
Not objects, pieces of the source
Pieces of the divine
Belonging to ourselves
Belonging to the difference
Of these two souls
lovers, feminism, not cheesy, a little cheesy,
Yael Zivan Oct 2014
Let me be calm

let me be free

this is not all i am allowed to be

Let me be wild

Let me be proud

It does not mean i am always that loud

Let me be happy, let me be sad, and occasionally let me be unreasonably, and furiously mad,

Let me be Poignant,

let me be deep

Yes i am sheltered, and yes i will leap,

Leap with no fear and leap with such force

because art and purpose will serve its course

I am a vehicle of the soul, and a pardon from god

A label will brand me and cage me and blind me but the labeler’s mind will lose me or find me.

I am so much more than a statistic or name,

So much more than a figure of a body or frame,

So much life,

so much breath, so much thought, so much depth, so much fight, so much light...

So much to learn and so much to know. So much to change, so much to grow,

So here i stand, alone and untamed. I am unarmed and silent and i am never afraid...

So don’t dare decide that i’m something i’m not, don’t dare cast me in your story if you don’t know the plot.

Let me define my own divine path. Your imperfections are teachers and i love you for that.

I know not my purpose,

i know not my goal,

but this is the song of the many sided soul
independent feminist,
Yael Zivan Aug 2016
If I let this heaviness sink me
Then I will do it alone

If I try and give it away

It will come back

Lonelier then before

Can love lift it??

How heavy is this love

It presses me to the ground

And doesn't hear the absence of sound

And the strings of pain that cocoon me from more pain

Wrapped like a present
For a later day

Unwrap my pain and lay it out. It's heavy existence to be admired and desired

Until you can pawn it off at a yard sale

Boxed away or broken

Pieces scatter to the sky

And free... Of its heaviness

Why. Can't. It. Just. Lift. Me.
Yael Zivan Nov 2014
Let me be calm

Let me be free

This is not all I am allowed to be

Let me be wild

Let me be proud

It does not mean I am always this loud

Let me be happy, let me be sad,
and occasionally
let me be unreasonably,
and furiously
mad,

Let me be Poignant,

Let me be deep

Yes I am sheltered, and yes I will leap,

Leap with no fear and leap with such force

Because art and purpose will serve its course

I am a vehicle of the soul, and a pardon from god

A label will brand me and cage me and blind me

But the labeler’s mind will lose me or find me.

I am so much more than a statistic or name,

So much more than a figure of a body or frame,

So much life,

so much breath, so much thought, so much depth, so much fight, so much light…

So much to learn and so much to know. So much to change, so much to grow,

So here i stand, alone and untamed. I am unarmed and silent and i am never afraid…

So don’t dare decide that i’m something i’m not, don’t dare cast me in your story if you don’t know the plot.

Let me define my own divine path. Your imperfections are teachers and i love you for that.

I know not my purpose,

i know not my goal,

but this is the song of the many sided soul
Yael Zivan Feb 2015
If time is a tube,
my life is a spiral,
A snail shell,
Sea creature,
Peculiar and Viral

and I work hard and move fast and time gets quicker,
slicker, with the blink of an eye and the tapping of a finger.

The day off that i was supposed to have
but you cancelled it out
and penciled in other plans.

My time is meaningless, it belongs to someone else, but the faster i go, the smaller it gets, the inside out feeling,
of living without rest.

Time continues without me, i know this is true
yet the fact that I'm lonesome doesn't account for the glue,
that keeps me to my shoes and my shoes to the ground
and the world that keeps turning, with its ups and its downs.

But it's getting smaller, not the world but my life,

horizons are shrinking, cut away with my knife.
That cuts cake for my customer, and slices my bread,
till one day it cuts me to my bones till its said;

She sleeps with the fishes,
he muttered that to a girl
So the poem made sense, but all in a whirl
my poem is splotchy and dusty with time,

that keeps shrinking and shrinking,
until the last rhyme.
Yael Zivan Aug 2016
You can say anything.

talk about the trees. and the butterflies and how love feels

or some ****

But to be a good poet

you have to practice, think about what sounds better

learn the long words

or the advancement of gramar

bend the rules after you've learned them.

and take pride in the fact that I AM A POET

print business cards or some ****

buy a leather jacket and always carry a writing book.

tell lovers pretty things that weave you in mystery

but

to be a GREAT POET

just write the truth

and tear the world apart
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