I shot for the stars and hoped to reach the moon
But I passed the moon
I passed the stars
I passed the time and passed the space and ended up in this space
This space with your face at your place.
This past space and past time at your place in your bed
In bed where you said the things you said and
I said the things I said and your bed and my bed became our bed
Our bed that we bought for our place and our place
And our place which had more space for more beds and more heads
And little heads to be put to beds that we built with friends
In our space and our time.

Meshiach

When Meshiach comes, what will she see?
When Meshiach comes, who will he be?
Will she see us waiting, wanting, writhing?
Aching, forsaking, wanton dying?
Will he be judging, nudging, vengeful, mad?
Hateful, cold, disappointed, sad?
Will she see us forgetful and himself forgiveful?
Will we recognize her face, and him our grace?
Will she see children trying their hardest?
Will we see a father home late from his job?
He she see hands reinforcing shoulders,
quivering with each woeful sob
siblings caring for each other
Latchkey kids with snacks did steal
To stave off hunger as they await
Parent’s arrival and evening meal
The ancient books tell us, for peace and holiness to strive
For it is only then that Meshiach will arrive.
We are left to ask, “if we can soothe our sore,
Then please tell us what, we need Meshiach for?”
Perhaps it is when we cease to fight
And all the conditions are perfect and rite
And the need for Meshiach has ceased to be
That it shall be discovered that Meshiach is WE.

5.17.16

What grows inside is something new
From something me, and something you
From something borrowed, old and blue
What grows inside is something new

What grows inside is a part of me
But what sort of me will they be?
I hope they’ll smile, I hope they’ll love
I hope they’ll wonder about something above
Will they sing? Will they write?
Will they cry, yell or fight?
Excited and scared for who they’ll be
‘cause what grows inside is a part of me

What grows inside is a part of you
but what parts will prove to be true?
Your compassion? Your prowess? How you dance? How you laugh?
How you champion the choice of the less chosen path?
Will flavors be their palate and their canvas a plate?
What will be their favorite color? Who will be their first date?
I know I’ll love them and I know this is true
‘Cause what grows inside is a part of you

What grows inside is a something new
From something borrowed, old, and blue
What grows, it grows because of our love
Which spans far below and high above
From place of fact and places of lore
And all of the places we have yet to explore
Sure, laughs have been had and tears have been shed
But the greatest adventure lies ahead
‘cause the best of me and the best of you
Is what grows inside of you.



1.27.16

Could barely get out the door today
Funny, ‘cause I walked away
Amazing how fast you get used to things
How comfortable you get with what the weekend brings
And how fast they end and go away
Left alone to face a new day
Now all left alone with all of this time
Feeling like this will be my last rhyme
Where once there was warm flesh,
Now only cold pillows and dusty blankets
Where there was comfort and company
Bad TV and empty hours
Methodical release and dark sunny days
Punctuated by corporeal storms
Half smiles with the Pyrrhic comfort
The knowledge that this time I did what was best
I stood up, I stand up, I gaze around proudly
And see that I am still an island.
With waves rapidly eroding my shores,
Dents in my harbor from boats that came to dock
And left far too soon
Sun shining on my face to attract new visitors
And I sit and wait,
Trying impossibly to be happy
with just being an island.

Making hay while the sun’s a’shinin’
Stealin’ cake while the others are dinin’
Feeling the pull to peep through the wool
Or was it the sheep through which the lies seep ?
The chaotic bleat that flows beneath the feet
And arises up the spine like cavitations mal- divine.
Emitting up and out a sound hole plucking strings in our throat
Unconscious aural conformation
Till one living sweater-shrub ceases to bleat out of consternation
Something has changed, as things sometimes do.
Something is different, something is new.
Random, spontaneous, serendipitous growth
Unexpected uninvited, unrequited hope
Once begged for freedom from oppressive tyranny of choice
Now beg for shackles through curdled cackles to get back the voice
Till beg no more, upright from all for
Decision passed from hooves to hand
From grazing grass to breeding land
To breed ideas, but not new race
To evolve, revolve, revolt with grace
But still a sheep, not more no less.
Did not run, did not egress
The sheep that ceased to bleat and began to speak.

I see a flower in the sun.
Bright and yellow
it blows back and forth in the wind.  
In short, staccato vibrations
It moves like nature's metronome
To a beat I cannot hear.
I am caught briefly by it’s radiance,
It’s beauty.
I hope to capture it in a memory
One that I can reflect upon
And hope to bring me peace
In times more frenzied.
And yet to do so would be futile.
To do so would be to disrespect
The ephemeral nature of such beauty.
It would cheapen it with presumptions
That I could own it,
Carry it with me.
Like nature’s rhythm,
It is unknown to me.
To see it is to hide it.
To want it, is to offend.
To me it is beauty,
Yet it’s experience is one of turmoil,
Battered by the wind,
Wilting before my eyes in the heat.
It’s scent is cleansing,
But for the flower,
It is odor.
Inviting predators
To violate it,
To cut it down
To take it from it’s family.
It is a promise of pain.
And yet that pain is inevitable.
The futility of my desire to keep it
Is the flower’s futile desire to remain free.
And so I pass it by.
With a gentle nod,
I acknowledge our intertwined destinies,
That neither of us shall know peace,
And that in knowing this
We have found it.
The wind gusts up
The flower bends low to me
Then whips back aright
As if to say, it knows too.

Feeling free as a way to be
Become the feeling feels to me
As I can't hear and I can't see
From all the ones to form a We