1 Voice
1 voice can start an avalanche.
1 voice can start a war.
1 voice can end the hatred started many years before.
1 voice can start a movement, the movement end oppression.
1 voice can take prosperity and from it form recession.
1 voice can save many lives or lead them to destruction.
1 voice can save many souls or lead them to corruption.
A voice it can be silenced,
or snowball into many.
It can be as large as a mountain.
Or as small as a penny.
A voice it can be more powerful
Than every nation’s king.
The world is made of many voices
Rhythmically they ring.
A voice can be a future.
A voice can be a past.
Even if a voice is silenced,
It will always last.
A voice can be a solution.
A voice can be a scheme.                                                                                              
But never forget the power
Of a voice and a dream.

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.

Wind the clock
Set it back
Way, way, back
Way back to times before.
Before the battle and after the war
Make it bright to see the light
Feel the pleasure
Feel the pain
Sun fades, moon wanes.
Everything stays the same
But keeps movin forward
Draggin feet on the carousel
Tryin to slow the movement.
Blind to the revolution.
The inevitable return
Closer to the end,
Closer to the beginning
Big bang, big crush
Babe in an incubator,
Old man in a respirator
Travel back to move forward
Return and arrive in the same instant
Fast or slow
As long as it moves
and doesn’t go anywhere
just don’t stop.
Crash! Break!
Break out of the circle
Fight against the tumultuous monotony
Of its suffocating embrace
Concentric circles
Drawing in closer and closer
To a cage in the middle
Walls are closing in
What is outside the circle?
Why can’t we get out?
Who are the gate keepers?
Where are they hiding?
How will we break through?
When will we be free?
Dark days and white knights
Lapping life from the doggy dish
Wearing the wind in our eyes
Think it’s a disguise
But truth is transparent
And the façade is opaque beneath
Get out of the circle
Break the line
Stand still and be delivered outside
Be free
But be wary
For outside lie perils unknown
Sanctity, Sacrifice, Solice
Found in the binding of
Saintly moments.
For it shall be
The summations  of good intentions
Which will break us out

Where are the heroes
  From days of yore?
Remain do the arch foes,
  They fought before.
Still here the cold,
  Still here the heat.
Gone the valiant old,
   But not from defeat.
Were they abhorred
   Or did they die?
Or were they absorbed
   Into a lullaby?
And though songs like these,
   Keep us as babes sedate.
Grow old and thus appease,
   Cruelties grow and virtue abate.
But in random saintly moments,
   Recall youth unconscious thus.
And melodies not sang to us since,
   Awaken heroes still in us.

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.

Wake up, sweet lilly.
Don’t hang your head so low.
For the world is waiting out there
For you to let your petals show.
You have me to shower you with gifts,
And the sun to give you light.
The world is a great big place out there,
But there is no need for fright.
And for all your wayward ways of past
You sadly do atone
It feels as it shall forever last,
But you are not alone.
You have those who planted, and those who cared,
And those who look upon you each day.
They looked with awe, for what they saw,
They had no words to say.
So don’t deprive the world your beauty,
For soon you will regret.
For as pretty you are (which is pretty by far)
Is not close to as pretty you will get.
So wake up, sweet lily.
Don’t hang your head so low.
For I am the gardener and I have come
To help you grow, and grow.

SanITY is merely a Social constraint
A M E A S U R E M E N T of normality to which

ALL
are expected to conform.
What if we lived in a world where sanity didn’t exist?
????????????????           ???????????????
where every body was completely
U  R  S  R  C  E
  N  E  T   I   T  D
Where Politeness was a curse and Con form ity a sIn
To B tru lee
“”          
to  Act and speak without                                                                        FEAR
to SPEAK with our MINDS
to LOVE UncontrolABLEy
to not be  Afraid of fear.
To encounter each proble m as  a
GLOBAL COMMUNITY
S   ev     era      l  m i   nds th  ink    inga  s        ONE

           thought
to let                 wander aimlessly like a cloud.
To be intoxicated by life.
To LOVE
To LIVE to be
HAPPY

August 8, 1999

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

feeling flurries of the past
melting on my face
mind moves through time oh so fast
as the body moves through space
looking forward beyond the void
listening hard for voices gone
whispers mixed with empty noises
join in chorus with the song
locking unlocked buried treasure
covering secrets with sacred word
logic can not be the measure
of the message that calms the herd
for stories teach and children reach
for meaning and for space
but twill only last
if we feel the past
like flurries on our face.

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.

a man danced with his shadows
on a bright and sunny day
the expression he wore was sallow
cause he couldn’t find his way
so he followed his ground-bound friend
and circles defined his trail
he found his steps at the very end
and thought that he had failed
he cursed and burst and through a fit
deeming the day a waste
but then the answer seemed to hit
and a smile crept cross his face
he figured out the reason
that his path had been so hollow
it had nothing to do with season
but who he’d chosen to follow
so now he’s changed his ways
and thus left behind his fright
he works and sings and plays all day
but he dances only at night
and instead of walking round the ground
that never takes him far
he grins, holds his head up high
and takes voyage with the stars.

Walk in and out, out and in
Don’t know where I'm goin’
But I know where I've been
I've been out living
While you stayed here dying
I've been searching for truth
While you’ve been lying
You’re inclined to conform
I'm inclined to rebel
Been trying to scare me with oceans
Oceans of notions of heaven and hell
But I am the good ship
My sails fly me above the oceans of notions
The bays of dismay
¾ of the earth is under water
even more as the situation gets hotter
but I am above
Above, above, above
In my sea sound vessel
With gilded sails of freedom I fly
Above the waves of discontent
Fleeing from going the way Atlantis went
“Poor and huddled and yearning to be free”
No longer enough just to let things be
‘Cause things have been and will continue to do so
With or with out help,
The incessant thinking
You think you know
But you only knew
And now things are new
And you can no longer say that you know
Things keep changing, the tide, the time, the season
As we pretend to know
that we know the reason
But how can they know anything of change
All they do is stay the same
They progress while standing still
Digress! Digress! Don’t keep the even keel
Need to open the eyes
of those who think that they’re wise
Cause the wisest man I ever met
Told me he didn’t know anything… yet.

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.

Google and gabble,
obsequious prattle
and remove from the room, the loom.
Take it away, to a place that will pay
and abate the resuscitated gloom
Reel the wheel and make the deal
and make sure its all for naught
Pave the way that the children shall play
in the shade when the sun gets too hot
for when the heat is arise’d,
the sun is despise’d
and makers of fur garments rail
but the skirts they get shorter
and men’s thoughts get sordid
as hormones begin to wail
but the heat it don’t last
when you’re travelin fast
with millions of miles behind
there’s more up ahead,
but surely you’ll be dead
when you get to where you’re tryin to find
runnin away when you refuse to play
and work well with others
but with those that you hate
you can truly relate
cause all men its known are brothers
so go back home
you’ve roamed to Rome
and the heat has long since passed
for youth it is fleeting
and as your heart is beating
take advantage for it shall not last

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

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