STUDY

Why did Ms. Goodall go to the chimps?

Perhaps in the hope of learning something new about herself?

Similarly,
I sometimes go amongst humans,
To learn something more about myself…

Something deeper about my origins…

INITIATION

Have you ever licked an asshole with gusto?

If not,
You may have difficulty,
Appreciating some of the following…

You may want to come back,
Once you’ve developed a taste…

DISCLAIMER

Reading the following,
May inspire you,
To forsake inherited sanctity,
Dabble in inherited taboos,
Embark on life-threatening journeys,
Of following your muse…

Be forewarned!

I assume no responsibility!

I survived my journey,
My visions,
And voice…

You, however, may not!

If you have a family to feed,
A job to hold,
Or a position to keep,
You may be well advised,
Not to read the following!

It may dizzy you out of the assembly line,
Pop you off the chopping block,
Awaken your silenced voice,
Unleash your trampled vision,
Distract you out of functionality,
And launch you into spheres of prophecy…

Be forewarned!

If someone broke your heart,
And you want me to fix it,
Look elsewhere!

If someone stole your savings,
And you want me to replace them,
Look elsewhere!

I’m an articulator,
Not a placator!

Things come into clearer focus here –
Both the pleasant and the painful,
The beautiful and the horrific,
The inspiring and the disheartening…

If you prefer blurriness,
Haziness,
Or soothing distraction,
Please seek elsewhere!

MY MANTRA*

One man’s light,
Is another man’s night,
And neither one of them is right.
So give up the fight,
And kill that sweet sight,
Of loving truths in slippery flight.
OR
So give up the fight,
And whip that sweet sight,
Of lusty truths in slippery flight.
OR
So give up the fight,
And spank that sweet sight,
Of cuddly truths in slippery flight.

*Provided – albeit without credit for some reason – the title for this Omer Avital song.

ON THE NECESSITY OF PROSTITUTES

Voices that echo across centuries,
Are often too loud for their contemporaries.
Thus Geniuses quickly learn to whisper,
And funnel the unexpressed thunder,
Into tears,
And lonely masturbation…

Oh, what damnation,
To be the source of elation!

Only when the Genius ceases to breathe,
And people can deceivedly believe,
That the sounds are those of immortal sages,
Can the whispers blossom into voices,
That echo through the ages…

THAT

Like the fuel a rocket guzzles
While being shot into space,
We chew on poetic puzzles
To get to that magic place.

Like a drug without side effects.
Or a free perfect fuck.
But always at your disposal,
If you have that bit of luck.

PERSONAL PREFERENCE #1

The sweet bloody air,
Of Charles Baudelaire,
Is not my favorite.
Though my mind does savor it,
And it be gallant,
Full of talent,
And the madness,
Of genius –
It is not the mirror to my dreams.
And though it often seems,
As though I’ll soon collapse and fall,
Into the dark gory gall,
And lose my optimism forever,
And my affair with life sever,
I still see a light,
Seductively bright,
Peeking through clouds and misery,
And luring me towards the imagery,
Of that life-affirming German –
Nietzsche –
That King of Jolly Madmen.

GOD BLESS AMERICA*

I see little difference between Hitler and Moses.
Both thought their wills to be god’s choices.
Both sought to give and take life and death.
Both thought their voices to be god’s breathe.

Both attracted substantial factions,
Using blood and brutality’s immortal attractions.
Intoxicated by all-too-similar dreams,
They spilled innocent blood with which the world still teems.

Moses would surely have enjoyed,
And, indeed, probably have employed,
The efficiency of Hitler’s gas chambers,
Which would’ve greatly aided his soldiers’ labors.

I would have killed Hitler with my own hands,
And so would I those who kill for promised lands.

My ears ring with the quiet crash and dins,
Of the currently impotent Beth-Dins,
Who,
Because I am a Jew,
Or at least my mother was one,
Would kill me for thousands of ‘sins’,
Of which I regret none.

For now they are weak,
But they ever do seek
Ways to recapture
Their pathways to rapture,
Namely,
World domination,
And their competitors’ obliteration.

Night and day,
They beg and pray,
For their god to yield,
And let ’em this power wield.

This to me is well known,
Because I was bred to be their soldier,
But they are certainly not alone,
On this my life I’d wager.

The earth is teeming with such active monstrosities,
Of all races, colors, and nationalities.
All currently held in check,
Because the H-bomb demands respect.

But this danger is far from gone,
And it won’t be long before another will don,
This crown of mad and violent frenzy,
Ready to obliterate a nation,
To earn another’s envy.

Let America slip or blink,
And the world will instantly sink,
Back into the bloody cycles,
Which blind faith endlessly recycles.

So let god (perhaps suicidally) bless America.

*Written by a friend of mine whose mother was Jewish.

SUGGESTION #1

From the shards of shattered dreams,
Try making mosaics of new ones.