The World , my love

To be disenchanted with the world,
is to know it for the first time.
A moment of imperfect epiphany,
a recollection of what has always been,
yet is no more.

To be enchanted with the world,
is to swim between its waves,
drowning under every crest,
yet still coming up for air.

To be outside the world yet still within it,
that my love,
is another world ,
which may save this one.

Lullaby To My Heart

Awaken my heart , awaken,
Do not tremble for you will not be forsaken,
Truth will not forget you ,
Nor the ages forbid you
from sailing past the moon.

And if moonlight dares to pierce you,
remember it does not despise you,
it simply does not care ,
for bleeding hearts and broken masts,
of either friend or foe,
it only seeks to grow.


Sleep my heart , oh sleep,
lay down , forget how to weep.
After the stars and beyond the curtains,
no light shall dare,
to illuminate your wounds,
or tell of your despair.

What Jesus Yearns For

A speck in her eyes he lies,
A drop between her thighs .

Her womb , a God's abode, he suckles,
point of light,
Christ's first plight.

Her hair , his coffin,
within its waves he drowns,
for our father who is in heaven.

On her nipples ,
a phallic cross he does erect,
For he does not want to resurrect,
just dissolve into the milky wells,
into that beating heart,
to rest between its ripples.

The Purpose Of Life

The purpose of life is to sharpen your eyes,
heighten your senses and alert your mind.

To be ever vigilant in your inner world,
for no one can tell,
when the chance presents itself,
to escape sideways.

Upon hearing that Mahmoud Darwish was ill

and I hear that you are in a hospital near Paris
and I hear that you are very ill
and I feel my hair chilling
and I say no I cant write a poem about Darwish
he is my enemy
but I know He is not my enemy
I am just afraid of what the others will say
It's one thing to say that
Darwish is the best Israeli poet
just to see their half smiles
saying that I am crazy
and another to write about you
and I have loved you poems
you, like me,
an exile in the world
when the world is all exile
when the words are all aliens
and I loved when you said in an interview
that
had you known your poems would be translated
to so many European languages
you would have written them differently
with less symbolism and clearer
I loved you when you said that a poet has to
write his poems clear
I loved when you wrote about El Andalus
and making love in the afternoon.
May god be with you, Mahmoud,
my friend not my enemy
my fighter with words
stronger than weapons
may Allah be your healer
may you live many years to come
and may you rest when the time has come
in the gardens of Eden.

by Moshe ben Aroch

Please forgive me moon if I awaken your dreams

Upon a rocky lake , a dew drop rained , and the wicked reflected the sadness. He walked there , his legs dragging the earth that half man half laughter , yet for all his laughter he never looked upon the face of the deep. A puddle there a sea here , jumped that figure over salt and blood. Why do we dance on the dead , make love on the dead ? sing , jump hysterically on the dead and decaying and not yet dead but decaying. Hmm , the silvery moon just thinks we're silly and swims aways on its bed of silver , while lovers moan from the dust swirling into the air hugging the firnament with orgasmic nausea until the wave breaks , and the moon turns its back.

What a farce our mistakes are , our horrid terrible mistakes , like the wings of a fly.I love you , I love nothing outside you and beyond you and before you , in you time bursts with giggles and hearts beat to the moon , the slow quiet round moon. Jealous of the moon ? The moon is our bread, our sweat , our tea leaves soaked in flower water , the moon is one of your breasts, nay there are two moons!

Shout it on rooftops , in dark alleys , to every grain of sand and gleam of eye : There are two moons !

Don't cry my love , don't dry away in the middle of the sahara , or give your milk to the wolf ... let the half man half laughter suckle that milky light for although all grown up and proud an infant still are his hands , as soft as decay. Nurture hoplessness , nurture him who masturbates on words for what use are words for the terrible eyes of Pan.

And the lover turns away , covering her moons and planets and stars and suns in disgust , the lover turns blacker than sour milk , the lover dissolves his heart and freezes his lips , the lover unwinds the universe.

I will never forget her , will never forget her ashes , the ahses of her ashes , and when both my soul and your fragrance dance on a beam of moonlight in a silvery night on another world I suckle your milk still my love , till the death of eternity.

It shall cross the river

The lion who had emerged from the desert and
had toppled the Roman Empire is
As I am told by the angels,
about to get up again

You the dwellers of the West, should know that
the world of God is not a shop
Your imagined pure gold
is about to lose its standard value

Your civilization will commit suicide
with its own daggers.
A nest built on a frail bough
cannot be durable.

The caravan of feeble ants
will take the rose petal for a boat
And inspite of all blasts of waves,
it shall cross the river.

~Iqbal

Broken People

"...I felt sad, because I realized that once people are broken in certain ways, they can't ever be fixed, and this is something that nobody ever tells you when you are young and it never fails to surprise you as you grow older as you see people in your life break one by one. You wonder when your turn is going to be, or if it's already happened."

-Dana-Christene Umanet

Do Not Be Anxious

25 “Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? 26 Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? 27 And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? [7] 28 And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, 29 yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. 30 But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? 31 Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. 33 But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.

34 “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.

Is there any hope left ?

is there an escape from selfishness?

can exhaling and inhaling be forgettable.

can happiness be as sweet as an everlasting moment , an infinity in the now.

or can doors open into dreamy oblivion.

yearning towards an exit , any exit.

There is only birth and destruction , there are no exits , non at all.

or could it be my last illusion ? that there is NO EXIT.

Tired , I lay down into my chores. never dreaming , never hoping , never being more than I am.

Is there any hope left ?

What if.....

what if all is , whether it is or not ?

what if we jump into the sky ? who decides , or who doesn't decide ? or can one jump sideways into inner lines of thin points.

why do cups fill with sandy light on a sweaty fence ? what if it dies ? do they weep ? those lips that lick dew from the moons eyes...

Anyway , what if "if" does not imply "if" anymore ..... what if all words are lost , or they are already lost , are they lost?

a million crickets quacked (they did!) on the hill tomorrow , but happiness did not touch them , those wide-eyed creatures of ducky disposition.

and on a side note , fermat wrote his last theorem.

take care , you cute swindly bipedals you.....

A Hollow Note

Days full of wanting.
Let them go by without
worrying that they do.
Stay where you are inside
such a pure, hollow note.

~Rumi

Symphony of Sorrowful Songs

Listening to georoki's "symphony of sorrowful songs" , while life is drifting away ...drifting slowly and subtly , drifting as a gentle stream on a breezy afternoon.

Drifting while hoping not to encounter any torrents , any gushing columns of force , so as not to be broken before slipping into the dark chasm of eternal rest in this bottomless ocean.

And Death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
Dead mean naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan't crack;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Through they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.

~Dylan


I've always adored this poem.

Hello Universe !

After the pain of birth , shrieks of the newborn fill the heart with sorrow....