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ZACK GRAM Nov 2023
When you think an the next thought is an add ill make electricity that..
Zywa Apr 2023
Winter light eats the wide hill
ever barer, buzzards hover over

the headstones in the fertile soil
which for centuries bore olive trees

The souls are elsewhere, where Israel
takes them, the remains perish

in black cloths, to be the first people
to enter the new world on the day

the gate of mercy opens
That is what the dead have lived

and fought for, for that
they have won against the god of war

they have conquered the city, with the source
that breaks out of the earth

Jerusalem, where I suffer
from divided togetherness

Will children of my grandchildren
collect their bones, honour them and

grow olives here again
with sky-high twigs of peace?
Mount of Olives, Jerusalem

Isra-El = Azra-El, the angel of death, who collects the souls of the deceased

God of war: Shalem, after whom Jerusalem is named; today Jerusalem presents itself as the "City of Peace"

Collection "Short Sermons" #50
Khoisan May 2021
I see birds fly
from this concrete predicament
faces in ****** hands
I hurt and I cry
my hands are wet
on Pilates plateau
a place where bugs die.
jack Oct 2020
i came here to find myself.
all i found was a reminder that i’m not a saint
jack Oct 2020
this is it: the true story of how i came to be, ripped apart from its sad romantics and its poetry.

i wake up with two thoughts on my mind, and just like pre-written script waiting to unfold in my life, i can’t push them away or find different words to say.

the first one is simple and easy; a thought philosophers on the internet love to share, a thought born when existence meets will:

why am i awake?

but, it can be something else. see, i think in too many languages and colours, and i forget what words can mean. why am i awake? why do i choose to wake up? why am i forced to wake up?

why am i awake — why am i not sleeping, still?

why am i awake — why am i not dead?

the second thought comes to me the moment i open my eyes and i realise i don’t recognise the body my soul hides inside, or the walls of the room i’m trapped in, or the smell of the air that rushes in once i open the door and run outside, as fast as i can, as far as i can —

i run, wondering,

where am i? who am i?

why am i not in my body? what am i not in my city? do i have a name? and if i do, what’s my name?

i run, and i keep running until my feet are sick of the taste of salt and rocks. she finds me hiding in a place where my people come together to worship their gods. they don’t do rituals like they used to, but they still use their voices and value faith above all.

who am i? why do you pray?

i don’t know i’m running from her until she finds me, and then i know. she’s beautiful in a way words can’t describe, and i can’t begin to fathom her soul.

she taught me how to be a god, once upon a time.

who am i? why do i know her face?

i still don’t know what i am, and the only one who knows is time. but, until time comes around and tells me who i am, i’ll try to be a god.

i may be a god.

who am i?

i am a god.
jack Oct 2020
one night i stopped being alive
but the next morning i was revived;

i found myself in the city of shalim,
bleeding, disbelieving, without sight,
lost and confused, tired and abused,
searching for hope, asking for peace,
in a city the world was fighting for,
in a city i’ve never been to before.

my eyes were dead, but i was alive once again,
and the darkness slowly drove me insane.

and then i heard a voice,
from the skies, calling my name,
“do you want to be a god?
just believe it is not a game.”

i believed, and then i could see,
after a blinding light shone at me;

the light shone at the truth
(a saint, i will never be)
and casted shadows at the lies
(they are lies, always have been)
i’ve been raised up to believe,
without questioning, out of fear
of god’s wrath in hell,
and his men’s anger in here.

i’ve never felt as afraid as i felt back then,
when i stood there, watching his men.

and then i heard a voice,
from beneath my feet, whispering,
“is a god what you truly want to be?
just be ready for the responsibility.”

one night i chose to stop being alive,
the next morning i was thrown back into life;

i worried and thought carefully
for a moment that lasted an eternity;
i’d never let a man **** in my name,
or treat a human life like a game.
i’d never summon a lethal flood,
or a drought without a drop of rain.
so i said yes and took a leap of faith,
and a god i learned how to be.

but if a child wore a mask, they’d still be
a child in a mask pretending to be somebody.

so in jerusalem, in the city of peace,
a city where i’ve never been,
i learnt to love and create;
i created my own deen.

(but, please, don’t you think that for a moment
being revived was something i ceased to regret.)
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2020

(~for R.A.~)
pour la Canadienne

The inside flat of
the upper left arm,
“the arm proper,”
a body part,
held in
low regard,
for it is not
easy visible,
nor is it the arm of
Jerusalem cunning.^

Few realize
it alone,
the only skin
that can be
pressed direct
upon the
beating (dis)heartened

upon it,
upon you,
I’ve inscribed in
richest blue India ink,
these words
ready for transfer,
s k i n  to  s k i n,
an instant injection,
more powerful

◄ Psalm 137:5 ►
“If I Forget Thee, O Jerusalem, Let My Right Hand Forget Her Cunning”

as is sometimes the case,
these words came to me
fully formed
in the mid of night
some say upon the same place,
but on the right arm was drawn
“a map of Canada
Oh, Canada
With your face sketched on it twice”
Path Humble Dec 2017
The Capitol of My Heart

Psalms Chapter 137 תְּהִלִּים

א  עַל נַהֲרוֹת, בָּבֶל--שָׁם יָשַׁבְנוּ, גַּם-בָּכִינוּ:    בְּזָכְרֵנוּ, אֶת-צִיּוֹן. 1 By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion.
ב  עַל-עֲרָבִים בְּתוֹכָהּ--    תָּלִינוּ, כִּנֹּרוֹתֵינוּ. 2 Upon the willows in the midst thereof we hanged up our harps.
ג  כִּי שָׁם שְׁאֵלוּנוּ שׁוֹבֵינוּ, דִּבְרֵי-שִׁיר--    וְתוֹלָלֵינוּ שִׂמְחָה:
שִׁירוּ לָנוּ,    מִשִּׁיר צִיּוֹן. 3 For there they that led us captive asked of us words of song, and our tormentors asked of us mirth: {N}
'Sing us one of the songs of Zion.'
ד  אֵיךְ--נָשִׁיר אֶת-שִׁיר-יְהוָה:    עַל, אַדְמַת נֵכָר. 4 How shall we sing the LORD'S song in a foreign land?
ה  אִם-אֶשְׁכָּחֵךְ יְרוּשָׁלִָם--    תִּשְׁכַּח יְמִינִי. 5 If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning.
ו  תִּדְבַּק-לְשׁוֹנִי, לְחִכִּי--    אִם-לֹא אֶזְכְּרֵכִי:
אִם-לֹא אַעֲלֶה, אֶת-יְרוּשָׁלִַם--    עַל, רֹאשׁ שִׂמְחָתִי. 6 Let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, if I remember thee not; {N}
if I set not Jerusalem above my chiefest joy.
ז  זְכֹר יְהוָה, לִבְנֵי אֱדוֹם--    אֵת, יוֹם יְרוּשָׁלִָם:
הָאֹמְרִים, עָרוּ עָרוּ--    עַד, הַיְסוֹד בָּהּ. 7 Remember, O LORD, against the children of Edom the day of Jerusalem; {N}
who said: 'Rase it, rase it, even to the foundation thereof.'
ח  בַּת-בָּבֶל,    הַשְּׁדוּדָה:
אַשְׁרֵי שֶׁיְשַׁלֶּם-לָךְ--    אֶת-גְּמוּלֵךְ, שֶׁגָּמַלְתְּ לָנוּ. 8 O daughter of Babylon, that art to be destroyed; {N}
happy shall he be, that repayeth thee as thou hast served us.
ט  אַשְׁרֵי, שֶׁיֹּאחֵז וְנִפֵּץ אֶת-עֹלָלַיִךְ--    אֶל-הַסָּלַע. 9 Happy shall he be, that taketh and dasheth thy little ones against the rock. {P}
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