i sat in the rocking chair
in front of the window
expecting a long night.

"a broken nose and a broken heart,"
i whisper.

"and 2 black eyes,"
the moon tells me.

"she gives that smile,"
i tell the moon,
"i don't know
what it is
that little upturn
in the corners
of her mouth
no
maybe,
no
that isn't all of it,
a part,
maybe,
and her dark eyes
bright
like a streak of lightening
across a thunder clouded sky
beautiful and dangerous
and in a second,
gone and"

"funny,
what a man is willing
to die for, "interrupts the moon,
pauses
and then," love
is when the damsel
shoots
the werewolf
with a  silver bullet
holds his hairy paw
and looks into his
wolf eyes
and as the wolfman slowly
is turning human
the man
returns that love
you can see it in his blue eyes.
now,
that's, TRUE LOVE."

i put a cold can of beer
on a book of Neruda
love poems
a sacrilege
i know
so i kneel down
and pray
she will read this poem
i'm writing
and it will take her
to some
distant flowered field
but...

the poem never finished.
the letter never sent.
so i'm talking to the moon.

I’m like
all the mothers
I’m like
all the fathers
I’m  like
all the sisters
I’m like
all the brothers
I’m like
all the souls
And yet it seems like i’m stuck
in a dream or perhaps a nightmare of
For jews and for muslims
For  rich and for poor
For gay and for straight
For red and for blue
For black and for white
in this sleep
of catastrophe  
Where are we?
Where are our hearts?
These tears of sadness
rolling down my cheeks
it’s so insane to keep wondering
If  this is as good as it gets for us?
Who are you, who are we?
Where are we going from here ?
Tell me why are we so blind to see
That the ones that we’re hurting
Are you and me.

Run... run while you can
before the envelopment entraps you
encapsulating escape with leaden clouds
skies darkened by searing missiles
unburdening caches waiting
for the stirring of conflict
so easy to hijack
as hatred
screams
loudest
drowning
out the pleas
of nursing mothers
as children's faces fend off
old feuds and avarice of arms dealers

In the blink of an eye,
Time passes us by.
We live our lives alone,
In self-made lies of our own.

We try to rise above,
But our castles crumble below.
When we're neck-deep in water,
Our steps are bound to falter.

We grip tight to the pole,
Believing destiny is our tool.
But in the depths of our scope,
We believe we are brought here alone.

Innate knowledge within,
Tells us we're all akin
A connect is what is missing
Our silver threads are entwined in
Pull and push, a sense of being.