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Wednesday, December 29, 2010

elul, so we may 4 give ourselves.

When it came to me, the world trembled. Unsure of its now possibly threatened existence. Weary of the hands it now lay. These small incapable hands, now entrusted with a destiny beyond their understanding. The way seems bleak. 
However, did it matter? Did it differ in what hands it where?  A job needed to be done. Whether, or not I was capable or not no longer mattered. The task needed to be fulfilled. It didn’t matter if for me, to save the world was impossible. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that it get done. Sometimes that’s the way it is, we must do the impossible, because that’s what is necessary. Do the unimaginable because this is what must be. We were given a job, a job we were made for. And though at times we cry out because it seems impossible, after all we’ve been through, all the mud, muck, and scum we’ve been living in, to then return to our father’s table. How can we approach Him? How do we return to whom we’ve abandoned? So sure that we’d survive, against His pleading, the tears burning His eyes stinging our soul, we turned our backs out of the foolish thought that we somehow knew better than the creator of all. How can we now apologize? How will it be enough? He’ll always accept us but it’ll never be the same… 
And so, we continue our wallowing in our crime. Wallowing in our sorrow as our beloved begs for us to return. Wishing He’d never made such a world, for a father’s pain of lost is not worth the songs of a thousand sparrows. Not worth the praises of a million priests. Not worth the dances of a billion galaxies. 
But what’s done is done. Now He waits, alone at a table for two. He ever awaits us to accept His invitation into our own home. To just let Him in. This is the daunting task which we all subconsciously fear. Can we do it? Can we begin to forgive ourselves so that we may heal, and perhaps, then so will He. In fact I’m sure of it. He guaranteed it. “The gates of heaven are always open to the tears of he who comes home.”    

Thursday, December 16, 2010

A Soul's Turmoil

11 elul:
As the voice got clearer, her face fades, disappearing into the ether of the abyss known only as the dream’s cloud. That cotton candy-like cushion, for subconscious wanderings. I hear his voice crying. I feel his tears burning, his words as constant as my heart’s beat. “I’ve done all I can”, his pleading cries, a constant reminder, when will I do all I can? When will I awaken from the deep self- induced coma I so casually wear, whilst trailing through life? When will I do all I can to prevent my lover, my partner from falling into a place beyond recognition?
I feel guilt. Terror. Anxiety. Fear. That I’m losing Her to the animal that is my neighbor. I’m practically giving Her over as if a pagan sacrifice. I see Her in chains sobbing, pleading, begging me to reclaim Her, but I’ve lost the feel for Her, I lost the sight of this pitiful situation. Too busy absorbed in my convoluted self- made mirage, of my “life’s complications.”
I then see Her captor, as he laughs & drags Her in the dirt, I see a tear fall from his eyes! Lightning hits! The fog lifts & I remember the face & voice crying “I’ve done all I can”, was mine! It was mine, & Her captor’s.
A fake. An impersonation. A facade. My voice ‘til I gave up trying. ‘till I stopped doing all I could/can to relieve Her suffering; that’s when the beast took over, convincing me something was wrong with me & didn’t need to care for my special passenger anymore. My lover. My partner in life. My queen. My piece of the king. My flame. My neshama.
 A pale flush. A dark burst. Dry drops of dew scatter the pitter patter of storms. A flash of white. A pure shriek. A sharp tear in the fabric of night. The crack of fire in its name of light.

rain's blessing

9-10 teves:
As every drop of G-d’s sweat, every drop of G-d’s tears spill over from His cup, they pour, they drip down, blessing after blessing. One for the girl who cries for her father, far gone; One for the man, faithful in His promises; One for each of His only children. A comfort, A cleansing wash of this planets treasure. The blue that makes this earth the sparkling sapphire to light up, the universe, G-d’s treasure trough.
G-d’s  wet embrace, His warm hug, His kiss to close the cracks of man’s heart.
The lullaby to His baby; the “hush” sound of its meet with surface. Pitter patter, splish splash. Splish splash.

from my dear friend, Yehuda Welton

Sometime b4 10 cheshvan:
"… As all the confusions swirl through my mind,
One candle in the middle,
A steady calm in the eye of the storm,
One light finally becomes clear,
“ faran a eibishter in velt”
& His will is that we accept good news & bad with joy.
It is in this,
His secret,
The pearl of truth, to survive the dark, & difficult times.
For  joy- “simcha” breaks through all restraints,
Even those of a hospital bed,
& (especially) those of your souls restraint; the body.

So, with joy we breathe,
With joy we must pray,
With joy we must cry,
with this our dream will never die.
For the ilui nishmas of chanan velvel simcha ben breina."

bila maves. the end of death.

7th night chanukah
Dec. 7 2010
30th kislev 5771:
When all the roses are dry,
When people forget how to cry,
When the the mercy of man dries up,
This is the day I no longer wish to have a name.

When my father’s smile no longer shows,
When the laughter of children no longer snow,
In the end of days, by the completion of time,
When the river has flowed its last,
This day I abdicate from life.

In the world of truth,,
There is no room for wars,
No room for conceit, hate, or self,
Only one.
Only the only truth will be visible.
 The magnificence of life will be smelt
& dealt a righteous hand to the fog of death:
“Bila hamaves lanezach”

lcha dodi

12 teves 5770
Dec 29, 2009

The birds of sorrow sing balads of joy,
The wingless eagles dance with that little boy (moshe holtzberg),
As the sky turns purple, a magical shade,
The darkness of night have begun to fade.

She’s my queen. She’s my doll,
My pet, my love, my wondrous all.
Without Her, I’m a lifeless shell,
It’s only her that knows me so well.

Once a week I host her with glory,
Every moment’s like a wondrous story,
My taste of heaven, our  smell of eden,
Just as we smile, once again she’s leavin’.

Ever tantalizing that awesome feel,
As the folds of black begin to peel,
The brightest pure is seconds away,
It’s time my brothers, to call her name:
“l’cha dodi likras kalla…..”

9 adar 3

True that the mists unite & bring forth blessing.
How awesome, that of the most intangible material,
Is the life force for all that is physical,
 Of that which has no shape, is the blood of all growth.
Growth of vegetation, growth of desire,
Growth of life, growth of love.

And what, pray tell, makes up this blue-ish life syrup?
But air, air, $ a little drop of air.
From absolute nothingness comes forth all life.

Life. Life connotes movement.
 But does this wellspring of fluidity really move on its own?
No! without wind, without the current,
It would be as still as glass, just a reflection;
Rather than changing the course of the earth.

  But it is specifically this, which all elements must unite for to create the wind, that fluid movement of which defines life.

Water. Eemingly intangible. Clear. Made from the nothingness of air,
With the balancing act of the 4 essential ingredients, of which spark life on our lone gem of our galaxy.

Tis in this that we have insight as to how the Master Architect, the Ringmaster of the circus we’ve dubbed “universe”, the Author of the tale called “life”, how, just how all of this façade of self- sustainment could be so sustained by the nothingness, the “ayin”, the emptiness of which is all just apart a piece, an emanation of…. Him.

9 adar 2

I’m so happy being lost.
I smile in the dark rainy night.
Why are my 4 amos zoned off from getting too close?
Why don’t I have any control of anything past macshava?
& even there I’m lost in a labyrinth of foreign imagery,
Most of which are from the empty souls & minds of the “entertainment” industry,
Of which I have plunged my psyche into. 

9 adar 5770 #1

9 adar 5770:
Her unseen face constantly haunting me,
Ever evading the corners of my dreams,
Those I’ve met whom I doubted to be her,
Whom had potentials of her strength,
Have only served for my self -destructive self.

To see her face, to hold her close,
This reminds me of her maker,
Reminds me why I’m here.
Reminds me who put her face in my imagination.

These words I scribble now,
Are only a further distraction,
To the truth i should be seeking.
The truth I should be revealing.
The light & life I, as a chayal,
Should be bringing to this dark corner,
Of cold cellar stone.

My head, frozen in a solid wall,
Unable to “compute”,
 to process the simplest of emotions.
To be able to find the drive to move,
To fight,
To want to breathe.
My will not to be angry is so strong, my body translates & transforms that fire into water & stone.

The expression: “’would’ve been better had man not been created, but now that he has….”
Was coined for me.
Am I so selfish/ foolish to think that a maamer chazal was formed for me? Yes. But I must correct this foolish notion none the less. 

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

knowing truth

7th night chanuka
Dec. 7 2010
30th kislev 5771:
From where does this fire arise?
How does the gremlin of desire so easily transform into that of self -righteousness & bigotry?
 All I ever seem to do is question,
 Answers seem to be far from my tongue…..
This is the jewish complex perhaps…
Awareness that the human mind is not capable of knowing Emes as it is,
But only as we perceive it…
A human mind skews…
In cloth of darkness lies the thread of light….

Friday, December 10, 2010

a falls feeling..

13 teves 5770
Dec 30, 2009:
Skin dries up, Leaves flake away,
The ink may fade, and the words be blurred,
Fruit may die, & petals turn gray,
But in all the darkness we are assured,

Any promise or oath,
Of good tidings or blessings
Will come to fruition,
& Nay to the second guessing.

All the lies of Mother nature
All her facades & misgivings,
Are but a test of our faith
In whose kind word, is everlasting.

When our eyes begin to pale,
Our skin fails to stretch,
Remember the words
Of His answers to our kvetch…..
Adam b’dmus elokim oso.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

a low realization..

Dec 31, 2009
14 teves 5770:
As my energy,
Suicidal, I become.
The knife to my neck,
 Or the feel of a gun,
 is the feeling of release of a thousand emotions.
 The rose in my heart
A magical potion
 Bubbling & bursting through my veins,
It’s ALL an idolatry
Of the idol called pain. 

for a loved one lost...

19 teves:
Death’s dew drips off her lips, as her last breath escapes.
 Her reflection fades, the lack of her roar deafens as I cry oceans in the wake of her passing.
As her candle flickers out,
& her flame soars,
Finally free of its earthly shackles;

I should be rejoicing over her breacking of bondage,
I ought to be smiling for her rediscovered light.
But I weep, sob & wail like a spoiled prince,
Only selfishly feeling the hole in MY world,
The fresh void, that rips through my heart & soul, like one.
I’m blinded by the mountains of grief in my path,
The falsity of this realm,
All the more real to me.

I find my voice,
my voice to acknowledge
, my voice of tranquility,
A voice which is not really mine at all,
Rather a voice embodied by the pain of millions of tears from a Father,
Now reunited with His daughter
Whilst all the while feeling the pain of those who lost her.
With this cry, with this shout, I solemnly utter & declare “Yisgadal V’yiskadesh…..”

not sure when..

Ramblings of a mad- man, yet to be.
A winding slide, as it curls towards oblivion.
The imminent flames of lies,
Rapidly becoming more familiar.
The truth that was once so clear,
Is once again cast in doubt.

Unsure of myself. Unsure of my strength.
Unsure of my weakness, yet I’m willing to fight them.
Jealous of the good of others, yet never willing to swap.
Ever the naïve stupid boy, always trapped by the worlds cruelty.
Wanting, wishing my words would affect them to see the truth in themselves, but never willing to act on mine.
Oh, the ability, the power, to express the heart. All that falls from my lips, speak my face’s thoughts, my heart remains a virgin.
Untouched. Untraveled. Constantly active, dancing with my mind.

an ode to the jewish woman

30 kislev 5771
7th night chanuka
"You are the daughter of The King. Your Beauty is immeasurable. Your grace is undefined. your spirit dances past arch- angels, leaving them mystified. Your  presence lights up a room with a light only G-d can describe.  You were, are, & always will be the foundation of good in this world. You are the jewish woman. The jewish princess. The jew-ess. My love is ALWAYS with you, for you, & exalting you. love, a simple jew "

by a friend and i.

one. & e.s.s.
To the one the only true believer,
The one who believes in us all,
The Father who wishes His children only to succeed
& cries rivers when we don’t.

And the magic of the wind
Through the trees,
That song,
Sweet sound.
My eyes are islands on which I am alone in peace
In solitude.
In strength.
In the roar of my inner lioness.
I see a lion looking back at me in the mirror,
Beckoning a hidden strength,
The hidden strength of yesterday,
Of yesteryear,
Of me,
Of you.
I see her,
The girl formed by the imagination of the clouds.

To the one, the only true believer,
To our Father in heaven
& His rep here on earth.
I love you.
More than words describe.
Beyond the capacity of the emotions you created.