THE INVISIBLE POEM

September 12, 2008  :: 0 comments

The invisible poem, as beautiful as a peacock’s feathers to those who possess a celestial vision, wafts down from the Heavens, like a multicolored leaf floating and drifting toward earth breathing life into all things it touches, although it is invisible and unknowable, perhaps, to humans; still it secretly wafts down from the Heavens.

Like a Russian ballerina pirouetting through Time and Space, the invisible poem transforms Nothingness into Being & Existence with each exquisite, enchanting movement, as it secretly wafts down from the Heavens.

On a secret mission to reveal the mysteries of the universe, the invisible poem passes through our air and earth, fire and water, penetrating our human landscape, although it is invisible and unknowable, perhaps, to humans; and still it secretly wafts down from the Heavens, searching and waiting for us to see with celestial vision.

The invisible poem approaches us from without and within, and although it is invisible, perhaps, to humans, it is near, waiting for us to decipher its secret codes-each word and line longing to be read. Perhaps, we will discover its beauty one Day of Revelation or on a starry night while gazing with celestial vision at the Heavens in a courageous moment of faith and feeling and absolute peace.

THE WAR

September 12, 2008  :: 0 comments

The War continues, and we listen to R & B-the
Rhythm & Blues of American soul music in
this beautiful, sad country.

The universal clock of Existence ticks again and
again and we wonder when the War will end.
Life and Death flow incessantly like the repetitive
oceanic waves of Time. And we struggle to be free.

In the distance, we hear Poe’s tintinnabulation of the bells.
For whom do the bells toll? The universal clock of Death
ticks again and again, and we wonder when the War will end.

Throughout the ages, we rage and the War continues. Is this
Destiny or human frailty and hubris? Is this our sin-the sin
of humans marching inevitably to Death, while listening to
the dark, heavy beats of lost Time?

The War continues and this compulsion to rage is our sin,
our dark mystery, and still, we dream of peace and try to
will it into being. And we speak of peace too, sometimes
silently or in whispers; sometimes we shriek the sacred
word in a cathartic release. It is our Holy Grail, our
hope and salvation, as we rage against our Darkness
and wonder when the War will end.

Our mantra is PEACE and in the tranquil ocean of our
souls, we sail across the turquoise sea and whisper
silently: PEACE. PEACE. PEACE.

9/11 IN MY HEAD

September 1, 2008  :: 0 comments

I’ve got 9/11 in my head.
Can’t stop thinking about

The dead.

The 7-year anniversary of
That day-

Is on its way-almost here.
Where can we hide?

So many died, I can’t believe.
Is there no reprieve?

Dark memories fall from the sky.
Why?

Some folks want to forget.
Let them if they can.

I can’t. I won’t. Toxic dust
Cascades down my soul,

Burning a black hole where
The dead shall live forever.

I’ve got 9/11 in my head.
Can’t stop thinking about

The dead.

On the 7-year anniversary,
I’ll mourn my way. I’ll plant

The Tree of Life in the Waste Land
Of my broken soul.

My beauty, once shattered and
Lost in a black hole,

Will slowly rise again like the phoenix.
With faith and memory, I will heal.

I will fix-the scattered fragments of my
Being!

I will sing!

I’ve got 9/11 in my head.
Can’t stop thinking about

The dead.

But I will sing! Yes, I will sing!

CHAOS

August 15, 2008  :: 0 comments

At night, I travel on a dark journey to a mysterious place
called
Chaos.

Alone, on an ancient train rushing to the other side of the
universe,
I sit inside a tomb of ice and fire

&

struggle to survive, trapped and enclosed in this eerie
smothering space,
where the raw chill of evil bites my face.

Like a captured beast in a cage, I’m a human specimen
on exhibit
in this miniature, moving zoo (for they are watching me),

a frozen cattle car galloping across time and space to
Chaos.

But why? Why are they taking me away today? I’m an
innocent man.
Why must I die?

Hunched over in a dark corner, my feverish body shakes
and shivers. I taste the miasma and gasp for air. And I
inhale

a deep fear that assaults and covers me in the windswept
snowstorm
of despair and terror.

Still, I pray to my nameless G-d, Hashem, (The Name)
as I’m
buried alive.
With my faith, I may survive this dark journey
&
all that waits for me in Chaos,

a dark dimension of many horrific places,
especially one in particular…
a place of ice and fire
called

Auschwitz

DON’T MAKE US SMOKE THE AIR

August 15, 2008  :: 0 comments

Don’t make me smoke
the sweeping swirls of sky
or
swallow metallic circles of black air
high above & below

No! Save me from the whirling streaks of man,
which scar the atmosphere

& let me inhale the white universe
& let me breathe

& learn the ways of uncanny nature
& let me sing & resonate
with
the fiery leaves of Fall
that do not burn

& let me fly with them
on a cool, cathartic path

Above
the forest floor

& drift with them
my multicolored Spirits
until
we reach
the reddish-brown earth

& let us breathe
& let us be

let us die-no more
let us not give birth-

to disease
please
Don’t make us smoke the air

CHANGE

July 12, 2008  :: 0 comments

Change is beautiful and frightening, like the Siberian tiger of the
Amur region in the Far East rushing and leaping across the
Waste land,

Strangely familiar and unknown, like the double approaching and
speaking to you in a fluid dream sequence, merging and melting
with the phantasmagoric landscape,

Consuming and destructive, like Count Dracula in the perpetual
night of mist and feral darkness biting and drinking the blood of
his victims,

Expansive and creative, like an invisible sphere of luminosity
exploding into a mammoth ball of fire,

Terrifying and thrilling too, like flat lining and dying and
mysteriously coming back to life,

Change is beautiful and frightening and new.

Change is grotesque like Gregor Samsa’s metamorphosis into a
colossal insect and yet, it is tomorrow’s golden sunrise, when
crepuscular beings rise gloriously at dawn,

observed on the Brooklyn Bridge by travelers trekking across
the majestic expanse or others sitting on the Promenade in
Brooklyn Heights

or strangers at Mallory Square in Key West celebrating an
enchanting sunset by the Gulf of Mexico,

Change is grotesque and grand, beautiful and frightening and new.

Janus-faced, it wears the multicolored and colorless masks of
hope and despair, a container partially filled with blinding
white light, yellow and purple, red and gold,
and gray and black.

Change is grotesque and grand, beautiful and frightening and
new; it is Janus-faced too and yet,
it is being and becoming,

and without it,
there is no life.

YOU

July 12, 2008  :: 0 comments

You ask me what I want from life and I say:
“You.”

A few tears cascade down your cheeks.
Some wet your parched lips.
I taste your tears.

“But there is so much more than I possess.”

“If I can truly love you, I will be free to
love others.”

“Well, they say you’ve got to love yourself
before you can love someone else.”

And so I gaze into my multicolored mirror
&
speak to the others, bathed in colored lights
or pitch-black darkness.

“Today, I love you-all of you-for a few
minutes, within the sea of contaminated
time, flooded with rage,
but calmed by soothing
waves of colors

& a vision that we are one.”

DREAM GHAZAL

July 12, 2008  :: 0 comments

I’m traveling on the Road of Dreams. This is my dreamscape if it’s me.
Got to call old Sigmund Freud, a kindred soul, and ask him if it’s me.

Once, I went to the Theater of the Absurd and searched for Truth.
Tried to understand why I’ve suffered so much and if it’s me.

On a dog day afternoon, I walked on the Coney Island Boardwalk,
saw a freak show, watched my ghostly face in the mirror and asked if it’s me.

A woman of beauty, with red flaming hair, danced naked in Central Park.
“I love my man!” she shouted. And I whirled and swirled and asked if it’s me.

The train rushes across the vast Waste Land and a bearded man sleeps.
I’m a Man of the Woods and a Wizard too-if it’s me.

A ROSE DANCING IN THE WIND

July 4, 2008  :: 0 comments

A rose dancing in the wind-
ripped apart,

severed from its roots in
the dark storm

&

still dancing in the wind-
unwilling to die,

determined to be-
a homeless rose-

swirling in the storm-
inhaling the

luminosity of soul far away
&
within

as it dances in the wind,
releasing the scent
of a dying rose,
and breathing its final
dwindling breaths
but still breathing and dancing
through the wind

&

into Eternity

INNER SPACE, OUTER SPACE

July 4, 2008  :: 0 comments

Inner space, outer space,
Spider web, broken mirror,
Fire & light, or earth &
Desert night,

Choose life at the center, or
Death on the fringe
& enter with passion and desire,
Enter the sacred place,
Hidden in inner space.

Red room, blue room, enter
Through the red room; inside,
Outside, & sitting in the blue
Room,

Overdose-crackling gloom,
Broken window, lethal visions,
Broken door,

Ghostly man & someone died
Sitting in the dark, a tomb in
Outer space, invisible in the
Human room.

Inner space, outer space,
Broken mirror,
Looking in/out,
No one’s there,
Lost!