We are going to bomb them so that they will stop the rocket fire
Says the memshellah: prime minister, in 2014
Funny how that seems like a transparency
Of what the memshellah said in 2004, 2003...
Sounds something like what was being said
On the bus to the University of Haifa
Radio Turned up by the Bus Driver:
mmm--eeem, mmm-eeem, mmmm-eeem
Which must have meant: we have bombed them
and now the violence will stop

Do we have the memories of a fruit fly?
Every twenty four hours, a new death, a new day
Begins and the same thing is done
An endless repeat of a survival
with no wisdom, no intelligence

Pilgrims on their knees, travel to the church
in Mexico
Like pilgrims and tourists, gawk at the treasures of
Jerusalem: to be near God
God has wisdom

So what does God have to say?
Looking down, the next bomb drops
And for awhile, after the blood spatter and tears,
Or maybe after the explosion and the body meat
is picked up and put in plastic bags
And it begins anew

What can God say, to make it stop?

he or she will do this: the child meltdown crazy act
in an adult
and I will blanche into an affectless emotionless marble slab
deflector shields up, they can't hurt me
the dysfunction energy will well up surround me
rush over me like a tornado flows over a house
as I hide in the basement

"You incite it" she said
Me?  The quivering victim
pain radiating out of severed nerve endings
he/she said it, and he/she targets me
"You think it means something"
Of course it does...after all...but wait
"She's not your mother. He's not your mother."
Mother, destroyed me. Can't criticize her.  Hurts her too much.
She lashes out.  I fall.  I must disintegrate into a writhing mass
Crying, water evaporating out of my eyes to drain the life from me
Destroyed, she stands over me, gives me a hand up.  All is good.
It doesn't mean anything.  It's just a crazy person.  I react like
something has been found out
That this craziness has merit to it and should be considered instead of just
let pass like a ball aimed at me that misses it's intended target.
Not worth the effort

Anxiety is at the heart of all that ails me
like my best friend ever, it has always been with me
So familiar, my anchor in the dark
I return to it endlessly to remind me that this is just like the rest
This new thing, this new test
is just the familiar torture you've known all your life

By my side, it destroys my mind, and I can't stop
this addiction, will always be with me,
The lies it tells me, that this turbo spinning depleting energy keeps me safe
That the constant tension that translates into fear and self hate
Is as it should, as it was set up for me
And blocks me, just when I want most to be free and easy

Letting go of my best friend, so scary, and feels so light
and beautiful, like the afternoon sun in a quiet garden
where everything is colorful and peaceful and the air is fresh and warm
and there is the smell of water from a hose...slightly rusty with an aromatic humidity
and little birds flutter about, and a sound of a buzzing insect appears occasionally
All is well, and from here I can do anything
but I catch myself: I am not safe without my best friend
and the ax falls down into the scene and it is now night and I am hungry and cold
and unwelcome and stalked and frightened, as it should be.

Anxiety is my enemy
It keeps me from this delight in life
and I can go on: and when I meet it again
I shouldn't welcome it in like a friend, but finally
be honest about it and say: go away
You have no use anymore in my life
You served me at one time, but that time is over
and you must evaporate
and I must face the fear alone, without you
You stay back, and I go forward, with courage.

Anxiety is at the heart of all that ails me
like my best friend ever, it has always been with me
So familiar, my anchor in the dark
I return to it endlessly to remind me that this is just like the rest
This new thing, this new test
is just the familiar torture you've known all your life

By my side, it destroys my mind, and I can't stop
this addiction, will always be with me, I think
The lies it tells me, that this turbo spinning depleting energy keeps me safe
That the constant tension that translates into fear and self hate
Is as it should, as it was set up for me
And blocks me, just when I want most to be free and easy

Letting go of my best friend, so scary, and feels so light
and beautiful, like the afternoon sun in a quiet garden
where everything is colorful and peaceful and the air is fresh
and there is the smell of water from a hose...slightly rusty with an aromatic humidity
All is well, and from here I can do anything
but I catch myself: I am not safe without my best friend
and the ax falls down into the scene and it is now night and I am hungry and cold
and unwelcome and stalked and frightened, as it should be.

So anxiety is my enemy
It keeps me from this delight in life from feeling all is right
and I can go on: and when I meet it again
I shouldn't welcome it in like a friend, but finally
be honest about it and say: go away
You have no use anymore in my life
You served me at one time, but that time is over
and you must evaporate
and I must face the fear alone, without you
You stay back, and I go forward, with courage.

I went and saw and lost myself and never thought it would happen to me
like a car accident with fire trucks and ambulances and police
and stretchers and pour souls waiting
that will never happen to me
Until down into the abyss I go and time seems to slow
and I surf without getting wet
pathetic just like the rest
An addiction nevertheless that freezes thought in an instant
and replaces them with endless searching for meaning and fragile connection
Circling around, look here, no direction, life on hold and desperate without risk
spinning out of control on the internet.

like my mind is filled with ideas
my material world is boxed in by things
over capacity knowledge stores on paper pads
and journals by the pound
around me they surround
time capsules prepared industriously on the daily by me
notes and books and handouts and work outs, all strewn about
my mind externally, representing fragment thoughts ideas left whole
thoughts pursued and cast aside and fleshed out to live a life of their own
Ordinary mortals see a cluttered desk, books and papers spilling over this
But it's a furnace of the imagination, taking shape, each item a puzzle piece to be
put together, and torn apart and worked on through the night until it's just right.