Ask Americans why they prefer kosher Hebrew National Frankfurters for July 4th cookouts



they will reply:

they are extra clean,
possibly even a little blessed
by the rabbin-ate,
and everybody knows
the jews got all the luck,
so don’t forget the mustard and
the pickled relish,
which rhymes with
you know what:
(embellish, shellfish (?), psychedelic).

kosher hot dogs,
love that jewish treat,
a digestive hellish,
proof positive that hot dogs
make America great
again and again,
in brown, yellow, and green.

It was the time when clock was ticking exactly 12.
The stars started fading and sky covered itself with clouds.
A little boy opened the door hearing the rain, the soil was wet and it had the fragrance of freshness in it.
The mesmerizing sound of droplets amazed him.
He smiled and wished facing the sky, the one wanted to be a pilot , so
that could do a hifi to the clouds, but the illness he was bound to would never let his wish to be fulfilled which he knew .
He stepped in the rain  and it rained, just rained

I probably love the truth
And the Truth is poetic
I propose that poetic lines be banned
Does that sound poetic

Sick of platitudes,
emotional contusions,
and little white lies.

I’m tired of the ghost;
this minefield of keywords and
it’s all just a game.

I’ve never had a
birthday party and now I’m
too old for magic

Light candles for me,
put a girl inside my cake.
Sing a song for me.

It’s just a party.
I’m just another sad boy.
Just another night.

i write you now after you knocked
and woke after drinking too much
and now my mind turns
because of doubt on your face

as the pen scribbles
i notice dirt under my nail
from working in the yard
while you were here

i step out to smoke
it makes me sick
because you hate it
sparks swirl when i flick
and a fly lands in my mouth

i turn on the vivid screen at 12:02am
and high fidelity is so dramatic
and i think of you
searching 'existential depression'
earlier in the day

when I look into a mirror
i see grey on my face
you bring it up all the time
my mind wanders across the years
and now it's the 4th of July
and i know you love it

this movie is such a drag
i look for another distraction
i rub my finger on a trackpad
and immediately am sad

a high school friend passed
we were not close
and the last picture i see
looks nothing like the person i knew

she asked me to kiss her once
when i was too young
i remember being scared
i rarely feel that anymore

i crawl in bed at 3am
hoping to wake up
to fireworks dancing overhead
you'll smile, and i'll smell your hair
and i'll drown in the blue of your eyes
sparks will trickle and fade
to the base of the night sky