They call us mad, they call us cursed,
For we will not bow to their painted gods—
Their temples reek of incense and decay,
Their priests chant empty words to dying fires.

But we—we keep the old flame alive,
The wild song, the untamed heart!
Let them rot in their gilded cages,
While we ride the storm, unchained!

My Heart Remembers…

“War of Hearts by Ruelle plays in the background”.
…
Like a long-awaited holiday,
My heart remembers You.
Ahava.
Yes, you.

Ache,
I am again handcuffed with the reality that I can not have you near.
It feels like centuries since our paths last crossed.
Yet I recall every detail of you.

Come sit next to me.
I am waiting so patiently—
to slip away from anxiety,
its words no longer holding my interest.

Guardian angel, please—
Tonight, grant me this request.
Don’t ask how I feel;
if I narrate this,
my horror story becomes real.

My mind keeps me occupied,
missing my meal, leading me
to find faith in dirty plates,
scraping scraps
like prayers no one heard.

I woke to rain like pigeons scrapping in my bin,
the sort that wets your socks before you’re dressed.
Kettle clicks, the telly’s zoning in,
the toast goes black, it’s biscuits and we’re stressed.

The street’s half-lit, a wheely bin's been nicked,
some sod’s been tagging walls with “FUCK THE TORIES.”
Bus late, of course, and it smells of sick,
the driver grunts, swears, and sings his songs of glories.

Together
meant something very special for us.
We worked together.
We lived together.
It was just the way we were.

Shaya
was a tower of strength
for all of us.
He had a big heart
and he showed how much he loved
us all.
There is a very large hole
for all of us to fill.

The six of us
when we went out,
together,,
was a gathering of warmth and love..
So easily expressed.

Of how the world would bloom without me
I've run out of petals

Now i have rotten dandelions
And salty tears
I know how pain tastes
I know how self hurt is
Acrid
Self
Pity

My stepsister shared her joint with us
on a resplendent summer afternoon in my youth.

Mostly I remember us spending hours
making up nonsensical words we felt should exist,
trying to give them definitions,

wondering who decided 33-1/3 RPMs was a thing,
and wishing we had more wine to smoke.

Knock, knock —
Is there anyone home?
Answer the damn door!
You need to hear this...

Turn off the computer,
Plugged into your brain.
What you are getting
Is no connection.

You are powerless?
Can somebody turn
On that mind
That’s been trying
To connect?

You gave out hope,
When all you had
Was malware.
Enable your firewall —
Before you need
To wipe out your favorites.

Tell fear to go do
A crossword —
Maybe it could
Spell out “Disappear.”

Slabs of stone
Greet the morning sun
Or is it the Sun
That warms their cold

Thawing the shiver
Of their last moments

Bringing light to that tunnel
only to dim again at dusk-
So let’s keep the torch lit
Lest We Forget

To lie beside a stranger
In her bed, her whining breaths
The mantras of prayers
Her beating heart
Tremulations of temple drums:
"I visit you from the lower world
To find a place fit to love"