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I S A A C Jul 2022
goon in love
too soon to trust
that's my inner dialogue, just a fire moving along
gazing above
wondering what watches over me as I repeat the mistakes set out forth for me
generational trauma, nature works in cycles
generational drama, focus on plastic idols
daydreams in the white room
unfaithful to the divine fruit
Ceyhun Mahi Nov 2021
There are many ideals upon the earth,
Who're praised for utmost truth, without a flaw,
Taught to the ignorant childeren since birth,
Meant forever to be a sacred law.
Today they said, "it is forever going,
It can't be wrong in this lasting design!"
A thing that history is never showing,
Which displays the ruins of church and shrine.
I can't follow idols of fickle men,
Adjusting agendas each day and night,
Not written down by light-scattering pen,
And not commanded by Divine Might.
    Let the world spin, again a thousand years,
    And they will fade away, from hopes to fears.
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2021
But their idols are silver and gold, made by human hands. They have mouths, but cannot speak, eyes, but cannot see. They have ears, but cannot hear, noses, but cannot smell. They have hands, but cannot feel, feet, but cannot walk, nor can they utter a sound with their throats. Those who make them will be like them, and so will all who trust in them.”

Who knows? Who knew?
Marched, dragged, ordered, bottom line, taken,
to the synagogue was I abducted, every Sabbath;
on the Festivals, this Psalm recited, catching the
child’s eye, the words symmetry, the conceptual
contained, struck and stuck, and seven fingered
decades, he stumbles once again upon it, this time
in his file of poems yet unwrit,
aging along with the poet,
for almost the last five years.

the prayer book, black covered, thumbed well worn,
by father-supplied, periodically page number is whispered,
my childlike eyes gravitate to the English translation,
though Hebrew versed too, the English verses whip my attention,
the concept of the Lords invisibility, a super power in my mind,
early taught by storied Abraham’s idol smashing,
and the futility of idolatry,
since invisible God is everywhere

these days of memes and trolls,
idol worshiping grows strong,
the fast thirst to recognize, admire,
to worship;
plaster, alabaster, clay, marble,
even gold & silver

pay them no mind,
trained early on to covet only
what we cannot see,
sources of the pieces within of the divine surreal
that perfect our flawed shapeliness,
the electric human touch,
the simple kindest gesture,
the tender embrace,
the ineffable softness of child’s cheek
an old man’s childish innocence,
the love of all carved-by-hand woodwork
for beauty only,
the artistry of good, mastery of emotion,
all to perfect your vision to witness
what only the heart can envision

You do not understand the contrast contradictory?

You will.



Silver and gold
Won't buy back the beat of a heart grown cold
I gotta go
Find out something only dead men know

                                                        ­                                                                 ­                        <>

Said the shepherd boy
To the mighty king
Do you know what I know?
In you palace wall mighty king
Do you know what I know?
A child, a child
Shivers in the cold
Let us bring him
Silver and gold
Let us bring him
Silver and gold
Let us bring him
Silver and gold
Do you know what I know/
So you see what I see?
Do you hear what I hear?

poem conceived on December 2016
in New York City;
completed July 2021,
Shelter Island, NY.
Melody Jun 2021
No devil may care for me tonight'
roaming, hunting a soul.
It is only a tinge of light
illuminating these corridors;
filled room to room with confessions,
murmurs adorn each one of their frames.
Truth be told I cannot tell
why people, each and one another fail
to see the twinge, the strain of his neighbor,
by cause of conflicting beliefs and chosen leader
777 Jul 2019
If you can have idols
Be your first one
Otherwise you wont be you anymore
Kate longshaw Feb 2019
The Beatles are your jam,
I like pink Floyd.
I see the music scam,
Controlled and devoid!
My idols, once much loved,
Such talent, what sounds!
Their ***** hands once gloved,
Their lows know no bounds.
How epically great they are.
How cool and unique,
Each one such a shining star.
Now I see how they're weak.
They'll no doubt be exceptions,
Won't follow the the rule,
Most built on deceptions,
I'll sing and dance like a fool!
Can't unhear such lyrics,
Nor forget their beats.
Won't break into hysteria,
Nor allow such defeats.
To whom would I get my groove on?
What song would I belt?
Ok so it's all just such a con,
Songs I've grown up with and felt...
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