Too Much Pain, What's for Lunch?

I used to smoke, but that's over now.
A long-lasting relationship with those white cylinders that were always there for me. Helped me out of so much heartbreak. One puff at a time.

They say "breathe". And I did.
And it got my through.

Now I chew.
Smoking's out. Not cool; the glares of the modern elite shame you into snuffing them out.
But food—still okay.
Still kosher.
croissants with dark chocolate nestled inside, doughy noodles and creamy sauces.
Giant just-about-to-be overripe luscious peaches.
Food, is my Savior.

Always there for me.

There's a lump in the back of my throat,
and all that longing wants spill out past it and I just. can't.

Ribs dripping with tangy sauce, charred T-bone off the grill,
carne asada, and three brightly-colored salsas with mashed avocado on the side.

Food, still sanctioned.

What is not sanctioned, is the the donut roll easing it's way above the edge of my jeans,
the rounded ball which is now nestled under my breasts,
one that if I were impregnated were garner all kinds of positive attention, support, and nurturing.

but this one only generates side-ways looks, muted whispers, and self-loathing.

And just at the moment when I need to look my most beautiful.

At the moment when I am putting it all out there.

I am finally, finally on stage, singing my heart out.

I am singing.

And that is a miracle.

How did I get here?
and why now that it is happening, am I fast-tracking myself to Weight Watchers, knowing that I would never submit to groups or systems or restrictions.

I am all about indulging.

I am all about doing what makes you feel good (or better).

I am all about coping.

But this? It's sabotage.

And the bigger I get, the more my outside is in conflict with the inside Mimi.
The one that wants to leave it all on the stage, the one that wants this to be a permanent way of life.
The one that wants to be a diva and a star. The one that could be that, and will
if she can turn this ship around.

I'm not hungry, but my pain is.

Pancakes, soaked in real maple syrup and creamy butter,
crispy smoked bacon, tall lattes and crunchy fresh-baked biscuits
Reese's peanut butter cups—the salty and the sweet, taking me straight to heaven...
a shortcut.

Today's Burden

this is the last one
for today
it's more
than i've written in months

i've just watched
horrified
and let none of it penetrate
my heart

how can those two simultaneously occur?

when so much horror
has swept over you that you can observe
and recognize
how ugly the reality is

and still
take your shower
brush your hair
make your coffee
kiss your husband
and teenage son
and drive to work

where you do your best
to be your best
and give your all
and make a difference
where you can, when you can

making a crying child stop
eliciting smiles because you made someone else's life
easier. for a moment.
seeing the look of gratitude,
when someone you know carries an unbearably heavy load
has shared a small bit of it with you
because at least today, at least for a moment
you have the will
to carry the burden

you don't know how far
how long

you do it while you can
while it's yours to do

until some day you lay it down
and pray that someone will be around
to do the job.

Pour It Out

i used to write in threes.
three poems, or sort of,
back to back
eyes closed
i let it pour out of me,
i didn't try to interfere
didn't stop to spellcheck or erase,
edit or analyze.

i just tipped the cup
and let it pour
and then when finished,
i would slap down my laptop top
and sigh
a breath of relief
knowing that now since the words were no longer bottled in me
they were trapped on a digital page
inside the circuits
inside the casing of my apple-kissed, aluminum mouth
they didn't have to torture me anymore
they didn't have stick in my gullet
rotting away,
the acid seeping through my stomach lining
and the acid sitting at the back of my throut
and the tendency of my brows
to sail towards each other
in consternation

all this
all this thought
making manifest in my vulnerable body

i've seen it take hold of me
change my chemistry

i've seen it creep along my skin
and cause bumps itching
redness, rawness
as if the rawness of my soul
was making itself manifest

and people would say
you need to chill out,
drink some peppermint tea,
take deep breaths
they would say
do some yoga
some downward facing dog
will straighten you right out

i remember when every morning
brought with it dread––
a panic that if i got out of bed,

i would have no idea where to go from there.

bad times.

i wrote my way to health
and now i'm writing again
and i think
it's a preventative measure.

Rigged (on the death of Elie Wiesel)

When will the world learn?

Angry about aging.
Angry about nothing ever changing.
Rigged systems, trickle down economics
and nothing trickling on us

silly rabbit
these tricks were made for kids
with a capital K
the ones living
up on a Hill

whose sons never go to war
just stanford and harvard
making friends whose friends will all
be somebody some day

my son, yes, he's white
and still
had a momma with no desire
to live off the backs of others

i ran away down south
dropping out the only way i knew how
i joined the 3rd world willingly
and laugh about it now
knowing noone from there
would do such a crazy dumb ass senseless thing

as give up luxury
give up running clean water
give up macdonalds in all its forms
and tarjetas de credito

at 20%
25%
that's .25 for every dollar.

and we're back to the rigged system.

in which you can't get ahead
you can only get behind
and

i'm angry at my scowling face
angry the beauty that's lost
drowned in anxiety
trying to feed my family

i want nirvana...NOW.
i want messiah...NOW.
i want to know how to be in the world

seeing as how there's no world
that will have me.

no matter in which one i find myself
i'm only playing at being
wondering when
my real life is ever gonna start.

Be Amused -- Be Very Amused

How one day's emotions can differ so greatly from another's without often a very obvious cause is a mystery I am coming to except.

It makes the well-worn AA phrase of "this too shall pass" all the more relevant, helping one not cling to any emotional state as purposeful, permanent and therefore, meaningful, that last being the most important aspect for if the flux and waves of anger, anxiety, elation and excitement are all as transitory as the shifting light why try to make sense of them?

Why not merely except them as they are-stand still--let them wash over you like a spring shower and subsequent rainbow.

This is what a tree would do; A stalwart, silent observer to all that twirls around it slightly bending in the wind, growing with warmth and sunshine, turning inward and slightly dormant when conditions are less than favorable, yet not clinging to any one state as permanent.

A tree shows no "longing"; it simply adapts. To what is.

How to live in a culture that revers those who long, struggle, work hard, strategize and achieve? For that is the value that is held up--universally by left and right, Republican and Democrat as "the way to be".

American Idol, Hollywood, politics, high-tech--pick your venue where these dramas are played out. 

And yet if it's all meaningless, then the only purpose of having the benefit of consciousness is to perceive and be often amused by the twists and turns of events, the highs and lows, the triumphs and failures.

Observe--and be amused.

Cars

Cars shelter us from people.

Cars protect you from interaction.

Cars shield you from life happening.

Cars put your mind in neutral, your awareness in autopilot.

Cars consume gas, money, oil.

Cars line up every morning, every night.

They stand at attention, and in a perfect grid, they creepy-crawl back and forth

They idle while maintaining a perfect 72° interior temperature and an external global CO2 greenhouse

Cars are comfortable, but life isn't meant to be.

Cars eliminate the variables...

Cars sanitize your life.

Cars kill possibilities, -- so much that doesn't happen because of the mini-jails we climb into every morning, every night.

TGIF

Today had more moments packed in

It seemed

And yet they

Disappeared

Somehow

Without me noticing

Where do they go?

The elusive seconds, the moments we are supposed

To take notice of

But can’t because we’re too

Too

Too

Too busy.

I’m so busy now.

Before

It was one long moment

And the sameness of it

Bored me to tears.

Now no two moments are alike

But they go by

Without me noticing

So what good is the variety of them

If the noticing of them

Isn’t there.

A strange question maybe

An odd wondering

For a Thursday night

TGIF.

Time, time, time

I’m tired, so tired

I’m run down, so run down

There’s nothing left in me,

Nothing left to give

What am I giving? (my time)

Who am I giving it to? (my boss)

Why do I give it to ‘em? (for money)

Why do I need the money?  (to live)

Why do I need to live?

For time.

Time to do the things I want to do.

Time to sing, laugh, joke, play

Time to run, but for sheer joy,

Not ‘cause I missed the train

Time to stretch my limbs out

Not run my brains out

On a treadmill

Trying to get fit

When fitness is about moving your limbs all the time,

Stretchin’ when your body says

Stretch!

Not just when the clock ticks and tocks

And the alarm goes “beep.beep.beep”

Time to work out

Time to pack all the movement your body requires

Into a 30 minute pilates class

Or a 20 minute jog.

And even THAT most people don’t have time for.

Time, time,  time.

If only people knew,

It’s G-d’s gift to us.

We shouldn’t be givin’ it away for money.

We should be givin’ it to Him.

Why do I bother?

Why do I bother?

Why do I take this mothering job so freeking seriously?

Why do I push and push, and try and try 

so that he has a better life, makes better choices;

How can I open his eyes to see the things that I see,

So he doesn’t have to suffer what I have suffered?

Why is mothering so painful?

Why does he take it so lightly?

Why do I care so damn, so incredibly much…

Having interference makes it that much harder.

He has something or someone to compare me to…

“they don’t do it that way; why do you do it that way?"

Everything is called into question; 

and he feels he has the right to question me

On everything.

I’m too intense.

I care too much.

It take it all way too seriously.

I am me; I can’t be another.

So how do I chill the fuck out?

Means nothing to me

I am in a strange world

In a strange land

People’s mouths move

And I hear a sort of static

 

There is a subtext

There’s all that people don’t say

Won’t say

Can’t say

The fear grips them

Fear

Of economic security

Of offending

Of not being “nice”

Of being seen as “out of control”

Pushy, domineering

Things don’t get said

And yet messages fly at us

"I’m angry..."

"You’re not measuring up..."

"You have fallen short..."

Smiles plastered on faces

While teeth are grit

And spit is forming

That will never, ever be spat out

Would be uncouth

Uncivilized

To be real

Unheard of

To speak your mind

Dangerous

To feel it and say it

In the moment

Spilling out all your venom

All your mistrust

All your doubts

Have to look…cool

As a cucumber

On top of it…

Like Madonna

Competent and know it all

Because

I don’t know

Isn’t supposed to be in your vocabulary

Not, that is,

If it’s boss that’s asking you.

Sad, really.

All this fear people are stewing in

While they pretend to be

Your friend, your ally.

Sad we put up with it

To feed our kids

And keep shoes on their feet

And the tuitions of private schools paid.

The incarceration goes even to the highest levels.

The letters C-E-O don’t free you up either.

There are shareholders to perform for.

And still your job

Could be whisked away at any time.

It’s a joke.

Janis spoke a truth that

Is absolute--

“Freedom’s just another word for

“nothing left to lose”.

Freedom is also another word for

“ ‘all this’ (now look around you)

Means nothing

To me.”

Okay

the more i think, the more i am confused

the more i analyze, the more tangled up i become

the more i beg and plead for light, the darker my vision becomes

the more i seek answers in the opinions of others, the more i add energy to the frustration i feel

the more i allow the darkness to affect my calm, the deeper it settles in

i will let go

i will tread lightly

i will let life transpire without an expectation of perfection

i will not fear, neither the opinions or disapproval of others

nor my own judgement

i will walk boldly in the knowledge of a loving G-d

and trust He knows my heart

i will let myself learn

i will allow all i believe to be true, to be once again put in doubt

i will allow the light to shine through the confusion of my experiences

I am, and will be, okay.

Dorothy and Me

in the stillness of my heart and will, is the whisper of His Word

no matter what chaos surrounds me, a serene calm can reign in my interior

my inner world can be one of peace

with diligence, with discipline

with every breath i take, a Spirit of Peace can move through me, within me and from me

affecting and infecting all who are near, and even those who are not

for there is no time, no space

we are all One

and as i move closer to the Universal Mind’s ideal state, i raise humanity some immeasurable increment in vibration

as i aspire to stillness, i will find myself floating naturally along the path

that i often struggle so hard to find

as i erase all that i know, or think i do

i will make a wide open space for God’s light to shine

like dorothy, such a long journey, a long struggle

to grow closer to the Divine

when all that she or I ever need is in our own back yard.

Can I?

how to straddle both worlds?

the Divine and the Terrestrial

knowledge and ignorance

Light, and Darkness

Heaven, and Hell

peace, and insanity

Precise man-made order, and Divine Spirit-led Chaos

Ambition, and Ultimate Fulfillment

Can my spirit float and inhabit the most banal situations?

can i invest energy

in activities that in substance hold no meaning, no importance, no inherent value?

will the lesson be to approach each act with diligence, with full attention?

to dwell in the “World”

and shine a light

with a spirit of humility and power;

of selflessness and confidence?

Can I be a new Me,

in an Old World,

once cast off and thought to be abandoned forever?

Can I serve humbly

where once Arrogance reigned?

Can I?

Bummer

there are no dreams coming true,

no silver lining

nor pot of gold

i have followed the rainbow

i have boldly tripped 

along the yellow brick road

and the trip doesn’t go like in the movie

what you seek 

isn’t just ”right where you are”

it’s nowhere

because the problem 

is the seeking

in the first place

the wanting, the longing

that’s the flawed premise we all start with

the feeling of incompleteness

of “if i only had this or that

or lived under such and such conditions...

i would be alright.”

and the truth is

we are NOT alright

we are NOT

alright

and that longing never goes away

and that separateness

never ceases

and the useless pointless 

nature of existence

never stops hurting

we only grow accustomed 

to the pain.

Stop Making Sense II

blank, that’s what i start and end with

all the jumble i fill my mouth with

my life,

my environment

the books, and movies

theories and meaningless

philosophical discussions

all add up to

sifting dust

through a sieve

no point

no substance

to fill the time 

maybe

to distract

definitely

because this blankness

is so easy

that it takes constant concentration

it is the effortless

constant effort

to come back

to nothing

where something can begin

and be made.

am i making sense?

i know there is no combination of words

that can add up to sense.

only nothing

has meaning

only silence makes music

only laughter

can heal tears

only death

can make life a reality

only love can illuminate darkness.

the Devil is at hand

waiting for his dark evil chance 

to separate

even those who would be allies

and it is we

who are not diligent

who take a wrong turn

and suddenly miles down the road

wake up

crying

from a nightmare

we just made real

by our lack of attention

by our willingness to be lead

instead of walk firmly

with purpose

with decision

with direction

er str do bulnrtsnlr

do humsn

do frsg

yo yhr vsll

yhsy vomrd gtom eiyhin

do vlodr

snf slmody insufinlr

i sm dsf yofsy

vsn hou hrst mr vsllinh`/

 i nrrf `you

nrrf vomgoty, vondolsyion

nrrf s ntrsk

nrrf domr yimr

nrrf yo trvobrt

nrrf yo grrl, grrl

yhsy yhrtr’d domryhinh i sm hrtr got

sd i grrl mydrlg bsnidh

sd i gnyidixr mydrlg s million milrd

gtom yhr psin vhokinh my yhtosy

see, it makes no sense.

nothing

only nothing,

makes any sense

at all.

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"