with me

Nov 1998


nice girls so hard to find
though many of them blow my mind
they're always so so soon snapped up
and gone

and once or twice a magic girl
with mind and spirit
does unfurl
my mind

with song of deep awakening
and stomach gripping aching me
and yearn and yearn and find no peace in words

but i will be here patiently
and yearn alone expectantly
oh hoping soon my girl to see

so long of leg and perfectly
oh woman i want you to be
i need i need for you to be

with me

I hate him

Nov 1998

i see him quite often sometimes
across the street
he is not so repulsive from there
and sometimes i stop and look
and he looks back

we don't often speak
we have, but the words
typicallly an echo of sneery grunts
for i do not like him
nor he me

i see him up close sometimes
then i am driven almost to hate
his uglyness,
his face a mask of pent up pain and sorrow
finds no pity in me

sometimes it is many months between
our meetings face to face
and almost i do not know him
but those eyes, he can not hide form me
and i always turn and walk away

i've known him a long time
i used to think he was pretty cool
smart, good looking, quick of wit
and even good with girls
i even loved his skill with sounds

but that was long ago
his past crimes have led me to dispise his ways
to hate him to his face
to laugh at his self esteem
for i know better, ah yes i do

i wish that we would never meet again
and death to him seems to me so just
and way way late in coming
i've contemplated
yes, i've thought to take his life

but i am not so good myself
and i have never found the strength of will
or courage
to do this deed so due
so i just wait and hope

i hope it will not be long

Ode to Wild Oscar

Nov 1998


what swelling is this?
this chest that once was shrunken
super-vacuum heart-hole

what sound is this?
a pattern?
a rythem that once, yes, i know that pattern

but is this just another case of chase
and catch and scratch?
snatch?

do i let my nose lead me?
my mind surely knows where my heart has been
come out?

what feelings are these
fear
simple fear, reluctance
quell, push it down escape escape

run - do not let it happen again
fool
listen to your head it knows

listen to your head
hello?
is there anybody there? Coowee?

poor sod
he'll never learn
some poof said it best, well may he rest

מים חיים (maim chaim - water of life)

April 1999

i seek a refuge of the mind 

a haven of the soul 

that place where standing i can rest 

or sit in peace 

there are no easy places 

there seems no hidden parks 

no solace in reason 

no rest from who i am 

but here and there an island 

elusive 

calls with salted tang of green and lush 

and i am called to stroke 

verdant moist and coolness high 

promise of clean and flowing crystal sounds of light 

that break in splendour on harsh rocks 

made luring, livid - splash of freedom 

where others dwell in soft acceptance 

there i go 

and who will be there i don't know 

enormous clouds make play of my mind 

perhaps you know?

A closed and empty hall

Nov 1998

how months and years can pass me by and leave me yet unchanged

the pain an open wounded heart unburied still remains

and all the feelings flooding back that sweep and let me fall

amid the ruin of my grief a closed and empty hall

i pace the room and think of you then try and try to sleep

my wearied eyes and aching hands no task that calls can keep

and when i shake the tempest off and finally look 'round

a week or month has passed again but nothing have i found

i hate these little deaths that come without the dreams of sleep

without the end that calls to me for which i sometimes weep

the waking from them leaves me cold and lost and deep in dread

that years of this may come and go - much better to be dead

but it is not God' way i'm told and all the sages say

and so i wash my face and try to face another day

the mirror shows me growing old an empty room behind

an empty house an empty heart a closed and empty mind

these lines are all i find to lance and let my feelings out

to let my grief and ageless loss become a silent shout

this scream perhaps will echo from some distant valley wall

and find a way to break into a closed and empty hall

And praise Ha Shem

Nov 1998


i'm a dad and when i die
i do not wish my friends to cry
i do not wish my child to sit
nor enemies to think of it
perhaps each one in place of tears
or smiles that come throughout the years
might take a coin maybe a note
and to some lowly beggar quote
"rise up you lot and praise Ha'Sh-m"

I ask you all to think of them
those worlds that passed before
each world a mighty universe
that goes on dor l'dor
for they am i and we are they
and all of us belong
to All that is and All that was
so death ends not our song
rise up your lot and praise Ha'Sh-m

and when you do, hear my amen

murray

1998


in the end
i ripped words from my soul
and threw them smouldering at your feet
you turned and ran in fear
looking down i saw what i had done
a shattered and useless heart
i have tried to fix it
i have tried to hide it from myself
it cut my hands


i wander very lost
all directions are the same


none lead back to you


i might as well seek one wave in the sea


one little wave

Italian business

1998

it's all become so pointless
the reasons all so vague
the "why"s have all just faded
even "why not"s are a plague

another dingy hotel room
a long way from my home
another foreign boring meal
eaten on my own

another day with driven youths
all stary eye'd and keen
another faded afternoon
the morning quite unseen

and watching old and ugly men
wash down their pasta meals
with cheap and nasty hotel wine
i wonder how that feels

and soon i'll trudge up to my bed
alone with CNN
it's all that i can understand
though it drives me round the bend

at least the French have BBC
and cheap and goodly wine
but what-the-hell i'll read and sleep
and dream my dreams divine

Beggars on a Train

1998

She can't have been more than seven
an "almost" accordion
tunelessly, noisily but not loud
clutched in her little hands

she came to each of us
her eyes looking, seeing, knowing
- to me she held out her hand
and maybe 30 francs i gave
she ran back to the old women
old before their time

she showed them the riches in her hand
looking to me with a smile
they all looked

soon, the oldest woman was sitting,
staring, pleading
across from me
i did not know her words
but her meaning was clear
3 children, i have 3 children to feed

again i gave
more she pleaded
until i was without change
enough only to escape
still the guilt of my meager wealth i felt

she had eyes still quite beautiful
quite beautiful

Where do we Go?

1998

where do we go to Lord?
on our wings of steel
an ever increasing flock of folk
building need on action
Babel towers
cities beyond the dreams of our fathers
and our birds beyond belief
fly from each to each
unending
and i only one