Man’s Search for Meaning

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I am number 119104

Moses told me to stay, his word echoing across centuries

Honor thy father and thy mother, declared the stone words-which,

Eternal; prophesied my long days on earth.

We, humans, departed, carted, from possessions parted

To hell by another name not so sweet, Auschwitz

We were concentrated-crammed into tiny train cars headed to concentration camps

Lined, searched and stripped—then teased and stripped naked,

The only relief the water pouring from the faucets as we stand completely naked

Our friends are smoke, bitter acrid acid smoke floating to the “Heavens,

Smoke is death and death is cigarette smoke floating to the heavens.

We, blank, battered, broken, beaten by baseless banalities-

Life meant nothing, corpses are gory rag dolls unwanted

Dragged bump bumping on the cold earth, earth so cold that we are numb,

Toes blackened, no scream as gangrenous black toes are torn

I am number 119104

 

Human no longer, but masses of bodies clumped nine to a wooden pallet

Shaking in nightmarish throes because it is better to live in a nightmare than wake,

To the living hell, our skeletal bodies clicking and clacking caricatures of death coming closer

Psychics all we could see death, coming closer. Nothing mattered, nothing but preservation

Of self, even biting bloodied lips to hold in bloody laughter as the bloody Capo conjures pathetic poetry

We, baser creatures, dropped into hellish nightmares break, but not all for

Et Lux In Tenebris Lucet-and light shines in the darkness and so fated,

We, cows, cowed by constant callousness head to Dachau aboard a train

Each straining to glimpse a future through small windows, I strain to see my home in flashes

Seeking salvation but the words beat me back and the past is swept away

But we dance, for the train is not headed to slaughter and we will not die today

Et Lux in Tenebris Lucet- light shines in the darkness

 

But even battered, broken, beaten there is still beauty.

For, we said “how beautiful the world could be” when blessed

With a solemn sunset splattering the red blood, blue veins,

 purpled bruises and angry black hate across the skies

like some maddened painter splashed us across the skies.

“How beautiful the world could be…

Be my wife, I remember asking her to be, to say I do,

I due to death but no longer as she rescued me

Giving me life and reason though her life is uncertain

We commune as one and my wife and I are become one

She is my tree of life, giving me the courage to face the world

Like the dying woman smiling silent tears streaming as she goes,

Her only friend her hallucination in which the tree talks

 

Doctors of death, dealing in denial we can’t escape our patients

Patiently planned escape not fated but ended with rotten potatoes

not freedom, but freedom found bound within barbed wire confinement

Suffering acquiring meaning and life becoming purposed, fated

No longer disease wracked suicidal starvation but rather sacrifice,

Bleeding heart no longer numbed but raw, reality rapidly realized

Endless hate in sadistic flesh sacs, demons walking in flesh of capos

Brothers in race but venomous snakes measured against momentary

Kindness in soup from the bottom or saved morsels of bread broken

The very best of us did not survive.

 

 

Then suddenly, Freedom.

Nothing.

Faltering steps through fields of flowers…

Nothing

But slowly we wake wondrously to reality,

The nightmare is over for most,

No more “Soup from the bottom please”

Or “Attention, Attention” and alarms

No more death smoke rising silently

I step, after faltering step

Through a field of flowers and fall.

“I called to the Lord from my narrow prison and he answered me in the freedom of space”

“I called to the Lord from my narrow prison and he answered me in the freedom of space”

“I called to the Lord from my narrow prison and he answered me in the freedom of space”

I am human again.

Subspecies aeternitas.

The future has finally arrived.

 

 

 

 

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The Runners (Partner Poem)

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Co-written with hastywords

 

The phantom highways

Stretch before us

High speed, racing towards
A destination we can’t see yetOur feet are weightless,
each step covers miles
and yet we are going nowhere
endlessly running

Weariness threatens us
On our endless destination
Urging each other forward
Holding each other up

We are so real, so poignant
but only paint brushed on canvas
bursting with life and color
an endless moment captured

The earth under our feet
The sky our sunlit canopy
Never a more beautiful picture
Captured, a living symphony

She strokes our surface, lovingly
as she paints our moment, her dream
Her wheelchair creaking softly
as her brush dances
and a tear traces a path
to her smiling lips

 

Quest

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Have you ever just wanted to walk away?

Drop everything, grab a bag and fling yourself into the unknown

Each step carrying you into your future

Each footstep kicking up dust and uncovering your destiny

 

Have you ever stared at the moon 

hanging there like some mystical fruit

ripe and tender and just wanted to pluck it

to reach up into the galaxy and consumed worlds

swallowing entire civilizations

 

Have you ever sat down, closed your eyes and disappeared?

Your body fading as you sink into a different world

a world of fantasy where you understand why you were born

and you are special and your life means something

 

Have you itched to break free of this mold 

and uncover your true self?

Have you longed for freedom until your insides bleed

and you can barely breathe for longing?

Have you started to walk away and then

stopped?

 

The unknown too strong

the bonds too heavy

the burdens too tight

the people too broken

have you tried to fly 

but drowned in excuses?

 

Have you felt so alone in your desire

So broken in your failure

that you sat down and created

a poem

a story

a song

a painting

a dance

a memory

a joke

a moment

art

hoping that somehow by airing out your fears

you will grow wings and fly

when in reality it’s just a mirror

that tells you the fairest in the land is waiting

but you’re too afraid to leave.

Beauty (Revisited)

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There is an infinite beauty in living

Breathing and listening

To the rhythm of the earth

 

Artists merely tap into this haunting melody

And make vacuous shadows of the real

Beat that echoes

 

And heats the blood of men and women

And sounds through the dreams of kings

The symphony

 

Of a sunset, the staccato beat of the heart

As the body warms from a kiss

The music that roars

 

Soundlessly through the universe

The scale the world revolves in

With moans

 

Of the seasons, typhoons and dust bowls

Of the worlds pain and joy

The rumbles

 

Of a stampeding group of elephants

Charging the nearby store for bargain prices

And the percussion

 

Of the incessant tapping in class as the teachers

Drone on endlessly, the rhythm monotonous and

Overbearingly slow

 

Like the heartbeat of a great whale as it groans

Its sad song to the world, the sound vibrating through

The ocean wide, sonorous

 

The cry of a parent that outlived their child

Wild and aching, a piercing pain, sharper than the

Shriek of

 

Of pain as a tooth is uprooted and tossed

 

In it all.

There is beauty.

 

The Answer is Only Half the Journey

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You demand clarity,

each heart beat pumps desire

for knowledge to your brain

 

Your eyes strain

searching endlessly, relentlessly

for the answer to your question

 

You dread the answer

but you cannot unloose the hounds

of information from ripping through

 

You celebrate

as the answer appears before you

but you find its only half the problem

 

Now you know

what you wanted to know

Now that you “understand”

what will you do?

I will Sing You to Me

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My attempt at Form Poetry…

 

I will sing you to me

My voice will ride the winds of time

And sound in the echoes of your desire

My love will tinkle softly like a child’s laugh

You will hear it in the silent midnight

I will sing and you will hear

 

My drum will be my heartbeat, hear

The boom boom boom of my desire

And strain your ears so you can hear me

My voice a light in the black midnight

A beacon that echoes across time

Listen to the future and hear us laugh

 

My love when I lay in the sweet dark of midnight

The quiet of the night my choir of desire

I sing you a song, I sing you to me

My voice is a brush and my canvas time

And for color I splatter it with a yellow laugh

The colors so bright surely you must hear

 

With my voice I paint you for all to hear

I sing the graceful curve of your neck I so desire

The flare of your royal nose as you laugh

And the ebon skin so much fairer that midnight

With my longing I call you to me

But can you hear, will my voice reach in time?

 

My beautiful love, I sing you to me.

With my voice I call for you to hear me.

My love, I will sing you to me and you will hear.

 

Flash Fiction: Bus-stop-100 words-Prose

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The Bus-Stop Girl is there everyday at 6 on the far left of the time battered bench. Reading, head down, thick brown hair escaping the knitted cap she wore. Everyday I leave my house, 5:45, and jog around the block. I just happen to pass by as she sits down, settling her skirt and opening her book. 57

I slow as I pass and breathe “Hello”. She always hears. She, her delicate fingers capturing her escaped hair, looks up from “A Streetcar named Desire”, green eyes glowing and says “Hello”. We share a smile and I run into the night, waiting for tomorrows smile. 43