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Bunhead17 Jan 2016
Hey Ranger Rick why don't you add this
one to the  YipYap  collection too
You  **literally
  unblocked me
so you could add my nonpoem ''really part
3'' to your collection and
then blocked me again...?
Furthermore you say we're the bitter ones...
you're the one that keeps unblocking me
so you can comment on my poems
then blocking me back. Uh, stalking...? much
Didn't I tell you to stay off my page! ?
Stalker: unwanted or obsessive attention by an individual or group toward another person. Stalking behaviors are related to harassment and intimidation and may include following the victim in person or >monitoring them.<
Cyber-Stalking: Cyberstalking is the use of the Internet or other electronic means to stalk or harass an individual, a group, or an organization. It may include >false accusations,<  defamation, slander and libel. It may also include >monitoring, identity theft,<threats, vandalism & solicitation.

.........................Ranger Rick Your are a  Stalker,  point blank.
I'm not even going to apologize anymore. :/ ....Ranger Rick everytime you come to my page and leave a comment, I will call you out on it.
Allyson Walsh Jan 2016
Your first real love. The love who made life make sense. The love who sat next to you in silence just to be with you. The love who kissed your knuckles and your forehead. The love who carried you to bed when you fell asleep during your favorite movie. The love who was good until they weren't.

You shouldn't miss your first real love. After all, it ended so poorly. Either they cheated on you, or the two of you went your separate ways. Maybe one chose a career over you. Maybe they had no good reason to end things, but did anyway.

Yet, you're reading this; and you may still miss them. The late night phone calls. The good morning kisses. When they showed up with your favorite drink just because. You miss their laugh and the way their nose crinkled when they did. You miss the touch of their skin. You miss your first real love.

And it's hard. They might be on the opposite side of the world or a mile away. They might live in the same town or a few states away. You may see them daily on your way to class or to the copier. You may see them every few months and wish that you hadn't. You may only see them while you're cyberstalking them. But it's difficult, nonetheless.

Maybe it's even more difficult because they're so close. You wonder what it would be like to show up unannounced. Would they let you in? Would they tell you they were sorry? Would they say they missed you too? Would they hold you like they used to? Would they let you fall asleep on the couch? Would they be there when you woke? Or would they shut the door in your face?

Or because they're so far away... you feel like it really is over. You wonder how they live now. Are they still seeing their new lover? Are they sleeping around? Is that job working out for them? Is their life moving on smoothly without you?

So many questions. You over-think and over-analyze until you're turning in circles. You want answers to questions you may never get answers to. Maybe that fact makes you miss your first real love even more.

I'm gonna tell you that it's okay to miss them. It's okay to sleep with their shirt "one last time". It's okay to cry over them to that stupid early 2000's song on your way home from work. It's okay to see their car and wonder if it's them.

You'll have your good days. You'll even have your good weeks. You'll realize that many nights have passed without wishing they were sleeping beside you. You'll find yourself learning how to live life without them once more. Getting coffee for one - not two - will be second nature... and that's not a bad thing.

And when you believe that you've taken two steps forward and three steps back, you'll still pull through. One minuscule thing will remind you of them, and you may have a rough rest of your day, but you will make it.

After all, they were your first real love. It would be a shame for part of you to not miss them. They meant something to you. And you know what? You meant something to them.

You may end up missing your first real love for the rest of your life. You may go to your grave with their name on your lips... but I don't truly believe that.

You will grow. You will move past them. Life will run its course. One day, you'll learn to let them go. You'll learn to forgive them. You'll even learn to forgive yourself.

You'll miss them. And that's okay. It's okay to read this and continue to miss them. Just know that they're the one that should be missing you. After all, you were most likely their first real love.
A lot of this was for me. I hope it helps someone else though.

Not poetry. It wasn't coming out in any other form than this.

I do miss him. There are days and weeks when I miss him more than anything. Tonight is one of those nights. I was pondering the thought of calling him just to hear his voice. I needed an outlet of some sort because he didn't deserve to know that I was thinking about him. This was that outlet.

It's not fancy. It's not like a lot of my writing. All of it came from my heart though.

I deserve the best and so do you... even if we don't believe it most of the time.
I cannot forget...
אני לא יכול לשכוח

©  STEPHAN PICKERING / חפץ ח"ם בן אברהם
12 Shevet 5778 / 28 January 2018
revised:
3 Iyyar 5758 / 28 April 2018
19 Iyyar 5778 / 4 May 2018
20 Iyyar 5778 / 5 May 2018
21 Iyyar 5778 / 6 May 2018

Shabtai Zisel / 'Bob Dylan' (1964):
'Forget the dead you've left, they
will not follow you'

W.G. Sebald z"l (1966):
'And so, they are ever returning to us,
the dead'

I.

the Path / derekh is silent,
a vacuum,
resonating with the
footsteps of tzaddikim, whose
teachings transcend(ed)
the Kingdom of Night...

where there was no longer
kefitzat ha'derekh
shrinking of the road
jumping the Path
teleportation.

...un die vvelt hot geshivign,
taught Reb Elie Wiesel z"l...
& the world remained silent.

not existing for themselves,
the tzaddikim speak with the
Shekhinah from their throats,
and the mar'ot johanna
visions of johanna
are witnessed by breslover
chavurot on desolation row,
murmurations of starlings
overhead.

listening to them, we survive
to walk / dorekh
the Path, with kabbalists z"l,
R. Chiyya & R. Yose,
the chevraya kadisha
the holy companions,
a derekh through the sea,

away from the energy vampyrism
& relentless phantasmagoric
cyberstalking of
the phantasmagoric Queene,
who engages in quacker
cross-contamination,
while prising her mindfully
plagiarising lips (a mirror image
of a death's-head hawk moth)
for a crucifictionist wafer:

a tax-deductible, copyright charity
deduction for ontological delusions
long after midnight,
clutching her cossetted Yehu'di
hatreds like
a perforated osculatorium,
because, שמח בחלקו.

    ****

Reb Uri Tzvi Greenberg z"l, 1923 [trans.
Michael Weingrad]:
'For so long there has been no water
in the wells. Only curses. ...& suddenly
the icons scream in Yiddish'.

II.

Light is the absence of Darkness,
to acknowledge Rav Rebecca
Newberger Goldstein.
& the holy slow train moves
(when it does)
sideways across flat earths.

consider the post-Auschwitz dilemma for
an opus dei natz'ri  who cannot grasp
the etymology:

prae / before + posterus / coming after
praeposterus / reversed, absurd.

did Shabtai Zisel / 'Bob Dylan' influence the
teachings of R. Yitzhak Luria z"l ?

III.

memories are stalking & ambuscading,
& as you said, Reb David Meltzer z"l,
'the Yehu'di in me is the ghost of me'...

& now the hourglass is invisible...

the windows of perception
to be peered into,
not out of,
as hairline fractures
develop in the retinas of narrow-ruled
yellow writing tablets masquerading
as frenetic mirrors,

never glimpsing tzefiyat ha'yeshu'ah,
the expectation of salvation.

& we are here,  
witnessing cyberian corpses
erecting three-way mirrors to their
obbligato and  mindfulness for girl
children...the mantras of a white
supremacist ****** ****** trained to
effect genocide  at a distance, his
audible hungering  for the  rapture  
of an endloesung in his drive-by
dark carnival, having no
farraginous self to say farewell to.

Lilith, the Midrash teaches, ate the
'bones' of Her enemies, but the
****** uses prayer beads as
majong ***** fired from his cap gun.

IV.

'she' stands on the bamboo porch,
thinking the lotus leaves floating by
are a reflexion of 'her' crumbling
totenkopfverbaende phantasies.

long after midnight, she shrieks to
a cyberian Mytilene, her mind so narrow,
thoughts are forced to crawl through her
fossilised ***** majora, which she identifies

as a personal luchot ha'edot, the glass
**** molded by her proboscis tongue,
as it fabricates yet another delusion
of a 1967 that never happened.

'she' turns, stepping onto an
embroidered nationalsozialist
matt,  'her'eyes a frail ambassador
of demure malice.

it is a moment such as this, when 'her'
desire of wanting to have been an
Auschwitz  Aufseherin, cannot be  
masqued  as a playful Latrodectus mactans.

ephemeral fabrications cling to 'her' --
an unbroken dance of impetuous
mirrors, as 'she' remains on the
porch, clutching 'her' 'we' aliases,

thinking, somehow, they are 'her'
aharon ha'bris...



V.

interlude / הַפסָקָה

Kafka z"l:
'I am divided from all things
by a hollow space'

Shabtai Zisel / 'Bob Dylan':
'I felt that place within, that
hollow place, where martyrs
weep, & angels play with sin'

Rav Yitzhak Luria z"l:
after tzimtzum,
the withdrawal of
'ehyeh 'asher 'ehyeh,
there came to be
halal ha'panui,
'the hollow space'

R. Shabbatai Sheftel ben
Akiva Horowitz z"l, 1719.
Shefa tal [Frankfurt edition]
3.5, 57b [Hebrew]:
'Before the world's bere'****,
'ayin sof withdrew into its essence,
from itself to itself within itself.
It left halal ha'panui within its
essence, in which it emanated
and created' [emended from Reb
Daniel Matt 1995]

VI.

sh'ma...'mir veln zey iberlebn, iberlebn, iberlebn'
(Lublin Chassidim z"l, 1939)...
hear: 'we shall outlive them, outlive them,
outlive them'...

why did R. Moshe Sofer z"l teach
'Chadush aser min ha'toray' / 'What
is new is forbidden in the Torah'?

the trolls here & what they call 'poetry':
collections of letters on a flickering
moon-glow  computer screen behind
a suburban curtain,
letters having no glyphs or sounds,
all encased in Sho'ah denial...

and yet. white supremacist sock monkeys
cannot silence the memories of the
thousands of Yehu'dit children z"l
burned alive on pyres, June-August 1944,
in the holy natz'ri village of Auschwitz,
in october country.

לעולם לא עוד לעולם לא עוד

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
...with thanks to my akhim / brothers & poets,
D.J. Carlile & George Dance & Will Dockery
for reading previous drafts...
...and to the memories z"l of David Meltzer 17 February 1937-31 December 2016
& Anthony Scaduto 7 March 1932-12 December 2017...chaver'im / friends
& for the 'or from R. Paul Laderman z"l &
R. Meyer Goldberg z"l

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
STEPHAN PICKERING / חפץ ח"ם בן אברהם
Torah אלילה Yehu'di Apikores / Philologia Kabbalistica Speculativa Researcher
לחיות זמן רב ולשגשג...לעולם לא עוד
THE KABBALAH FRACTALS PROJECT
לעולם לא אשכח



IN PROGRESS: Shabtai Zisel benAvraham v'Rachel Riva:
davening in the musematic dark

— The End —