Jealous, much?

i would rather tear out your eyes
pull out the last of your hair
rip you limb from limb
fuck you so hard
your dick fell off
devour your legs
and burn off your arms
tear your fingers from your hands
one by one

and then throw myself
into the deepest ocean
to be eaten by sharks
and then dissembled
by piranha
and then dissolve
into a million
nameless
molecules
burned by the sun
then evaporated
into the clouds
and returned to the earth
in the most violent
of hurricanes

ripping the palms
and palapas
and sand banks from the shore

upturning the entire land mass
in a giant tsunami
wiping out entire populations

doing away with life itself
not just mine
but all life
all being
all feeling
all joy
and all tears
the babies
and the laughter of children
the toothless old people
and the mindless fools

obliterating existence
and disintegrating
into the mind of G-d
who created this mess to begin with

than to share you with another.

Too Much Love

why does it hurt to love?
why can I gaze into my sons face
and feel in my gut his angst, his worry
his sadness and disappointments

does love mean to carry the pain of another?
does it mean that the disease in their spirit
is transfered to your own?

is love something we can choose to do
or not do?

is love a matter of degrees?
in spanish it is, in english
loving pizza and loving people
are the same thing

once your destiny has been tied to a person
can it be untied?

once you have loved
will you ever unlove that person?
or will their pain always be yours?

maybe that is the point of monogamy
to not take on more than we can handle.

we who know sacrifice
who know pain
have born it
and still take on more

we whose hearts are open
we who take compassion too far
we who give too much
we who are compelled to
put band aids on all the wounds
of the world

we are at risk
of being flattened
under the weight
of so much love.

Stop Making Sense

the world would be
an infinitely better place
if none of us had mouths

they, not the love of money,
are the root of all evil
the origin of all misunderstanding
the seeds from which all lies spring

the world would be so much more lovely
if none of us had tongues
to lash each other with
to inflect pain
and heartache
insults, criticisms and judgements

if only we were born without ears
the shit that fills them
day in and day out
would have no effect
whatsoever

and if we had no eyes
we wouldn’t see the filth
the broken limbs
and torn faces
destroyed by enemies bombs

or the look of disdain
in our lovers face
when they love they once felt
has faded.

touching.
touching is okay.
safe i think.
as long as what is touching you
is not a curled fist,
a metal belt buckle,
or a stray bullet

no. maybe touching should go too.

and tasting is out,
because the tongue that
tastes

is the same one that can kill
with a careless word.

we should just stop making sense.
the only way to perceive
is with the heart
because the other five
work together to create
an illusion
that we cling to as real.

the heart knows
what is real.

the heart doesn’t need
to hear or see or feel.

it receives
with no outside help.

it could do its job
much better
if our senses
would just get out of its way.

homeless

to all the nomadic peoples of the world
the berbers and gypsies and the batwas
and especially my people, the Jews.

not the ones in Israel today
who i don't understand
and can't relate to

don't speak their language
don't speak war or hate
or genocide

can't imagine doing unto others
what's been done to you

i mean the israelites
the ones who left Egypt
left oppression
in a rush
no time to pack your toothbrush
or let the bread rise
get out now, don't look back

i did that
walked away
from oppression and pain and suffering
and despair and slavery
i ran

the only way to run is light

i left it all behind
and hoofed it out of town
two legs and a thumb
were my ticket to freedom
and i'll never go back
and i don't regret it

but i have to be honest with you
it's not fun
being homeless

it's not fun
packing the few belongings
i've since acquired
ones i had only yesterday
found a special, 'just right' place for
it's not fun
not being able
to put down roots
rest my head
and know i'll be resting it
in the same place
tomorrow and the next day and the next

it's not fun
being a pariah, an outcast
while those words are not exact
since the one who cast out was me

i cast the whole world out
and now i'm left with just me

i pray for a home
long for a home
and yet

He knows if i were to have one
i would forget him
i would believe in my own autonomy
i would reclaim dominion over my destiny
as if i really could hold the reins
as if i really could steer the ship
roll the dice
and get double sixes, every time

when you're homeless
you KNOW that a power greater than yourSELF
is sustaining you
you CAN FEEL and almost SEE the angels that surround you

you can HEAR His voice in the whisper of the wind
or the roar of the sea
or wherever you happen to be
at the time.

from Wikipedia.org

Many Berbers call themselves some variant of the word Imazighen (singular: Amazigh), possibly meaning "free people" or "free and noble men"

In between

in between time,
in between action,
in between drama.

quiet nothing,
absence of ...

there is a silence in my ears
in my body
in my gut.

not even waiting,
for even waiting is action.

just being
in the truest sense of the word.

being effortlessly
not searching
or seeking
not trying
or pleading
analyzing
demanding
thinking
nothing.
silence.

it's okay.
maybe this is it;
Nirvana
or what Kurt Cobain felt
after he pulled the trigger
nothing.
floating
effortless
wakeful dreaming
no need to pinch
myself.
my.self.
has lost its meaning.
not in a bad way.
since bad ceased to exist.
in an is way.
have I made MY.self clear?