LA to Tel Aviv - 13 hours 45 minutes

Boarding: Why did I have to bring Avi’s Bar Mitzvah presents? It’s not fair.

Hour 1: I have no leg room and have to squeeze by two strangers to use the restroom. When will food be served?

Hour 2: What? No food, only a tiny bag of pretzels; mom the discount flyer strikes again.

Hour 3: Ok, settling in with my iPad. Rewatching “Stranger Things”

Hour 4: The lady next to me asked if I could watch something different. Apparently she finds “Stranger Things” disturbing.

Hour 5: The lady complained to the flight attendant. She found “Blackhawk Down” more disturbing than “Stranger Things”.

Hour 6: I get into the overhead bin and take out the bag of American candy that I was going to give to Avi. I’ll repackage what’s left into a Ziplock- he’ll be fine.

Hour 7: ***, WTH??? The woman dozed off and has the worst gas- I CAN’T BREATHE!!!

Hour 8: I motion to my sister to trade seats. She flips me off behind her iPad (so that Mom can’t see) and smiles.

Hour 9: Drink service, “Yes I’ll have a double ***** martini.”
“Sorry, you’re twelve.”

Hour 10: I take out a Sharpie and begin a game. I look up “Help Me” on my language app and write it in 26 languages in the in-flight magazine.

Hour 11: The pilot said that Turkey is below us. Are we still allies?

Hour 12: The bag of candy is nearly empty. I feel sick.

Hour 13: I spent the last 45 minutes apologizing to the lady for throwing up on her.

Hour 13:45: Finally here. Let the party begin.

In Battalion,
Misery is served in a thousand ways.

Misery is served in buckets of rain
and hours of wind.
Unyielding, soul-******* cold and wet.
Porous jungle boots that invite the frigid water in and soften your feet for a relentless 30 mile march.

Misery is served in a stifling aircraft flying Nap of the Earth.
A nauseating rollercoaster ride that never fails to elicit
chain reaction vomiting from the paratroopers rigged to jump.

Misery is served at pool PT
When your arms and legs feel like lead
and drowning is a better alternative
than the aquatic torture that you’re enduring.

Misery is served during blistering Company runs
led by the Commander
who was a college decathlete.
Runs where the strongest of us
pulled aside, emptied our stomachs,
and rejoined the formation.

Misery is served by no warning alerts
separating families and lovers
for indefinite periods,
sometimes forever.

Misery is served by the Spec 4 Mafia
Unleashing Hell on new Rangers
testing their threshold for ****.

Misery is served by road marches, prickly heat,
Black Palm, and sawgrass. It’s served by desert heat,
Arctic cold, and the stench of the world’s worst places.

Misery is served by the loss of brothers in war and training,
gone too soon to join the Great Ranger in the Sky.

Through it all, misery hardened my body and strengthened my soul.
It made me a warrior and ushered me into a Brotherhood that will be with me until we all sit at the great table in Valhalla.

So on this Veteran’s Day
Embrace the ****
Endure the pain
Invite the Misery
For that’s what makes us
Men amongst Men

Rangers Lead The Way.

Yes, and put that away.
Not the good ones, the others.
In the closet. Those go in the garage.
I don't care - anywhere but the family room.
5 minutes.
Because we must arrange humility to......

hide our vanity.

Alex the Goddess of Sport wields a lacrosse stick menacing all who enter the crease
Ben is the Waffle God, protector of the butter and syrup
Caitlin is the Goddess of whimsy adding mirth to all she touches
Daniel brings the rain and gloom
Emma looms quietly in the stacks guarding the fantasy fiction
Finn the Demigod of Sloth doesn’t do much at all
Gregorius is the Master of Letters, his countenance is exacting
Hannah rules fashion, her judgment is fierce
Isabelle finds friends for the lonely and lost
Jack is an academic Titan, the ruler of grades, ensures A’s at all cost
Katie rules art, all of the drawing and paint
Lana protects the good, the quiet little Saints
Mindi is the Goddess of…. No one really knows what she does
Nora guides the Orchestra with a golden baton
Olivia the Healer, nurtures the sick
Phuong the Geometer knows all of the angles
Q’Andre is the Messenger he rules the halls
Rohan the PE God is in charge of the *****
Sarah the Studious supervises homework
Teresa guides the students on and off buses
Uddai the quiet one wanders the night
Valerie is the morning Goddess who turns on the lights
William conducts the choir with a gravelly voice
Xander the disciplinarian issues consequences
Yara remains outside spying the grounds
Zoë the wise helps students make good decisions

Evil has brown eyes
Love has brown eyes

And blue
and green

Love's skin is pale
Evil’s skin is pale

And tan
And dark brown

Evil wears a police uniform
Love wears a police uniform

And a teacher’s lanyard
And an apron

Love speaks calmly
Evil speaks calmly

And gently
And kindly

Evil speaks harshly
Love speaks harshly

And angrily
And cruelly

Love hides behind the Bible
Evil hides behind the Bible

And the Torah
And the Qu’ran

Evil is male
Love is male

And female
And all of the genders in between

Evil, like Love, isn’t in how a person looks
Love, like Evil, isn’t in how a person sounds
Evil, like Love, isn’t in how a person prays

Love, like Evil, is in what a person does
Evil, like Love, is in what a person does not do

They say, “You’re young. You have plenty of time”

They say, “You’ve lived a long life. You should be happy with what you have”

Emptiness doesn’t care about age

Loneliness doesn’t respect a life well lived



They sit inside of us

Eating away at our happiness

Consuming our souls

Until there’s no reason

To go on

Gethsemane
Butterflies, fawns, the quiet trickle of a nearby stream.
Apostles argue.
Again
Some want pizza
Others teriyaki
A few want pastrami from Moshe's Deli in Nazareth

"Brothers. Time is short," said Jesus quietly,
"Let us not argue. I have brought a potato. Let us share."

The Apostles look at each other in dismay.
A potato?
What is this another f*cking parable?
They were hungry and impatient.

"Look JC," said Simon
"You're the Messiah and all, but we were hoping for something a little
more substantial."

"I bid you peace, Brother," said Jesus, covering the potato with a plain cloth.

He began the customary blessing for this type of food.
The Apostles bowed their heads respectfully.
One by one they closed their eyes in prayer
Sanctifying the simple meal that was before them.

Minutes passed
Stomachs growled
Apostles began to fidget.

Without warning Jesus shouted,
"Chabada Kedavra,"
and lifted the cloth, revealing a whole roasted chicken beneath.

The Apostles clapped their hands in delight at Jesus' latest miracle.
"Faith feeds us in many ways," said Jesus.
"Amen," said the Apostles in unison....

Completely missing
The KFC bag

That Jesus was sliding
under the table
with his sandaled foot.

(To The Tune of Winter Wonderland)
In the city there are people
In the country there are people
It's winter time
It's winter time
In December it is usually winter time.
In the desert, there are people
On an island, there are people
It's winter time
It's winter time
Unless you live in the Southern Hemisphere
We don't want to exclude Australians
From our inoffensive winter song
It's just that they're experiencing summer
And their days are
really, really, really long
La, la, laaaaa
La, la, la, laaaa
La, la, la,
La, la, la, laaaa
It's winter time
It's winter time
In December, it is usually winter time.

Sometimes we see threads of a life we might have led
We pick them up and follow them for awhile
Until the frayed ends lead to nowhere

I dream of sitting beside a massive crater
and trying to fill it
with a spoon

I'm A positive
You were AB negative
I'm so, so sorry...

A thief in the night,
Alzheimer's steals life
One moment at a time

Betrayal is bitter herbs
Leaving a permanent
putrid aftertaste.

I am a tumbleweed
Rootless, common;
Windblown to oblivion

What would it take
For us to be friends
Once again?

Their vile words
Their contemptible hypocrisies
Are acid on my soul

If you care
As much as you say that you care
Why would you do that?

It was never my place to judge you
Why is it yours
To judge me?

You're fortunate that I'm not
Who you say
That I am....

Their tombstones stand valorous guard
to an increasingly ungrateful
nation

Our home is just a house
without
you

I hope that I've done something
in my life
To make you proud....

Because of you
I taught myself
Not to cry....

Can you see the poems
that I wrote for you
from Heaven?

When I suffer
My thoughts are always
of you

I mistook your kindness
for kindness.
I was wrong.

When no one else is
You are
There for me

Music transcends time and distance
touching souls generations apart
and worlds away....

The bleeding has slowed
You can remove your knife
From my back

Ancient words
Conceal my prayers
From hostile modern ears

You will never know
How much
I didn't trust you....

I remember lingering with the boys
long after the decent people had left
drinking to your memory
I remember your coffin being lowered into the ground;
slowly, reverently.
I remember the folded flag, given to your mom by the Colonel;
tears streaming down both of their faces.
I remember the rifle salute - with M60s
I remember escorting your coffin into the chapel;
the Battalion at attention to honor you.
I remember the adrenaline filled chaotic night, the sounds of battle, and the radio message that you were amongst the fallen.

But I don't want to remember you that way,
so I close my eyes and dream back...

To the moment that you arrived in Battalion - wide-eyed and scared to death.
To the announcement that you were joining weapons squad and how the senior squad members tested your mettle every moment of every day.
And how you met every challenge.
To the long days and nights that we trained and worked and soldiered and suffered together; and how you grew to become a Ranger and a Brother.
I will remember your raw strength and endurance and how you would smile the biggest when life ****** the most.
I will remember you this weekend and the boys will drink to your memory once again.

RLTW!

Today

They screamed
They mocked
They demeaned
They berated
They castigated
They excoriated
They hollered
They yelled
They scolded
They criticized
They condemned me to Hell

And when I shot them
they died

I’m socially tolerable

Not rich enough
Not attractive enough
Not sporty enough
To be popular
But smart enough
And funny enough
And different enough
To be interesting

You can talk to me in class
You can say Hi to me in the hall
You can text me for homework answers
But you won’t eat lunch with me
You won’t walk with me
You aren’t my friend,
Really

But I pretend that you are
Just so that I can have one.

Caterpillars become butterflies
through metamorphosis
Plants grow and flowers bloom
through photosynthesis
But opinions,
No matter how popular,
do not become facts
by consensus

He is a bookworm humming marching tunes with a caribou.
They smell the sky, hear the sand, see the bright red light with their tongues.
Ed Ed the Knucklehead hides his hands in Ottawa.
Ed never hid his hands, he revealed them for all to see.
Splish-Splash, Splish-Splash, his webbed feet slap the tiled floor,tasting, tasting, tasting.
Walking, walking, walking
The foul-smelling wall of hunger screams empty codes at the freezing sun.
"Calculus," whispers Ed, "I want more Calculus."
The math will sneak by, he will feel its shadow; but not yet.
Sour triangles whirling openly greet the visitors.
Powerfully they mask their entrance embracing fraudulent identities.
The caribou now speaks his truth, "Ani rotzeh tachtonim."
Blindly the door opens and reveals all that the caribou desires stripes, rainbows, little flowers.
Down the long pathway to nowhere.

Your eyes are weak
So you wander off
Your bones ache
So it hurts to move
You’ve lost your ripping teeth
So you chew in small bites
Your mighty voice
is now a feeble whimper

You are moments
Or days
from eternity

However…

Until you cross that threshold

I will guide you
I will feed you
I will protect you

I am your tribesman
I can do no other

The metal floor is slicky
Desert heat amplifies
The odor of ***** and blood
Mostly empty IV bags hang on their stands
Packaging from numerous medical supplies
Litter the ground

Quickly and carefully I clean and spray and sweep and scrub
I sort and pack and refit and reorganize
Preparing the chopper for the next call

Lives were saved
But
I don’t know what will become of them
Some will leave the Army
Some will come back here
Some will do the job the enemy couldn’t do
And take their own lives

I can’t think about that
This is hard enough

Two thousand hearts
supported you

Two thousand hearts
prayed for you

Two thousand hearts
wept for you

Now, two thousand hearts
look toward Heaven
and hope you're looking back

Was she ashamed of the ******* that she bore?
I’ll never know
Was she ashamed that her children favored a man she despised?
I’ll never know
Was she ashamed of her childhood poverty?
Was she ashamed of her physical infirmity?
Was she ashamed of her educational insufficiency?
Was she ashamed of her family disunity?
I’ll never know

She carried an unyielding burden of shame
Its roots
remain buried with her
forever

There are points in life
When we run out of
Tomorrows

Your children mourn you
Your husband grieves you
Your sisters’ tears tumble
At the memory of you.
I maintain a silent vigil
At the back of the church
Having felt the loss of you
Far longer than they

“Sweet Dreams,”
Mom would say
when she sent me to bed

But…


My dreams have never been sweet

In the sleeping otherworld
I am despised reviled hated pursued maligned chastised excoriated mocked and scorned
I am lost abandoned confused terrified and helpless
Even familiar places and comforting faces
Become hideous antimatter versions of themselves

No, Mom, there are no sweet dreams for me
There never have been
I just never told you.

When He saw famine,
He fed them
When He saw plague
He healed them
When He was reviled, persecuted
betrayed, scourged, broken,
impaled and crucified.
He blessed them.
When He bled,
He sanctified them
When He embraced the sins of a wicked world,
He redeemed them

Does everyone feel the heaviness?
Does everyone see society coming apart at the seams?
Does everyone taste the bitterness that people have for one another?
Does everyone hear the rage being spat in the public square?
Does everyone smell the destruction of the institutions that once bound us together?

How can we experience all of this and still have hope?

I'll share my thoughts
You'll hear my words
and see my deeds.

My love and pain
Are mine alone

No tears will fall
No sad songs sung
No heads hung in despair,
No black limousines
Or flower wreaths
People just won’t care.

No poems read
or candles burned
No flags lowered halfway.
For everyone who’s still alive,
it’s just another day.

No flowered cards of sympathy
Or condolences to be shared,
No crying faces tagged on Instagram
Because no one really cares.

You'll leave this world as you came in
cold and all alone.
A pale, lifeless, skinbag
Filled with blood and guts and bones.

Who Am I?

I’m the neighbor who helped your son when he fell off of his bike
I’m the guy in the grocery store who gave you a five when you were two dollars short
I’m the driver who let you go first at the four-way stop because I could see that you were in a hurry
I’m the passerby who helped you load your car at Costco
I’m the man who greeted you at church
I’m the fellow who held the elevator as you rushed to catch it
I’m the geek who helped you with your computer at Starbucks
I’m the one who mows your grandma’s lawn and weeds her garden – for free
I’m the citizen who picks up trash at the park
I’m the old guy from across the way who returned your lost dog
I’m the anonymous donor
I’m the coach who believes in every kid

And you hate me because of a hat?

Who Are You?

You are the illegal alien who burns my country’s flag
You are the teenager who breaks my shop’s windows
You are the one in the hoodie who spat on the Veteran in a wheelchair
You are the **** who hit my daughter, the cop, with a brick
You are the one who firebombed the courthouse
You are the rioter who put me out of a job
You are the ‘demonstrator’ who vandalized my apartment building
You are the activist who looted the stores
You are the gunman who kills dozens of people every week in Chicago
You are the ******* who hobnobs with the rich and famous –
Because you are too.

I don’t care who you vote for.
I despise you for what you do.

Do your words matter
When you speak to an audience of none?