Poetry room

1,000 Words

1,000 Words

I dropped words They shattered on the floor. Right in front of you He dropped words, 22 letters crowned with Glory. Splendor Torah Holding the cosmos together I never meant for my words to fall, or me, for that matter. But you didn’t seem interested in catching them. His words sailed through the seas. They were brightly colored blooms of an almond tree. My words went soaring through your kitchen towards your heart. You stood awkwardly and let them fall. I held Words out for you in the palms of my hands. Big pink balloon blossoms, You pulled out a needle and popped them. You squinted your eyes, and then you twisted your mouth. Yes, you released silent words in ways that needed no explanation. I acted as if my words were not lying on your cold tile floor. You stepped on two verses as you maneuvered to the coffee maker. And flung a few careless words into the air. Cream? Sugar? Not only did you not catch the ones I gave you. Later you stopped sending any words at all. The few that made it into your mouth, you spat back out. I tried to package mine better, and I held them in my mouth for a bit. Measuring their worth before releasing them to you I added hues of ruddy sunburst and hints of emerald green. Tiny delicate touches to make the words kinder, sweeter. I bounced words up and down like a basketball. Then polished them up like golden apples. But you kept looking for a worm. Inspecting them for flaws I extended them again. Take these pretty words from me, I said Yet they dangled there in mid-air. Words suspended with no one to grasp them. Just hanging there like a dangling modifier. And why? Was there something so ugly inside of my soul that your eyes bore holes? I left and came back another day. I brought different words. Yes, that day. . . I held words in my fist. I clenched them tightly to my chest and blew them into the air. Into your face I looked intently into your eyes. Like a breath of wind, the words breathed. You made your face like stone and wrapped it in a marketed smile. A fissure really Like a pumpkin face Perhaps you didn’t know how to taste the words I used from His Word? The power of them is mightier than the sword. Forged in fire and blasted with Ruach Words They are like the gilded wings of a bird taking flight. Or Like a wasp stinger embedded in our soul We wad up words and layer them with love, judgment, and hate. Then fling them in the face. Or throw none at all. To try and Make Each other Feel small Some words smell like a rotten corpse, Lying naked on the floor Other words float above like a tuft of cotton. Our jaws can bring stale perfume. Thoughtless words dissipate before noon. or Words that linger on the surface Words that rattle from a cage Words that splatter candle wax And words that type tap tap tap tap Empty words from comic books and politicians with a hook Words from the young still tainted with puffs of air, pride, and sexual flair. Words like magic carpet rides And words like diamonds light up the skies. Words as thick as molasses Words that comfort, heal and hold Words that open doors and shut Words from babes who utter sounds And all the words that fell to the ground – That no one caught or let soak in, To lend an ear or be a friend. And all these words clutched in my fist. I hope one day to breathe on paper and send words that sail the seas. Words layered with Torah seeds and honey from bees. Words that stand up tall and hold sounds Words that were spoken on the Mount and words that cause fires to burst Words that no longer can break or hurt Or wound or tear or make feel bare Yes, Words that bring a shine. Words that neither run nor hide Nor bother to rhyme Words that are tucked away in shoes Standing on His Word Words that form a song that soothes And words that sing a halleluYah Words that pump through my veins For all I have to give to you are words I have no fortune; I have no fame, All I have are these words in the palms of my hands The ones I picked up off your floor The ones I washed and prayed over again I extend With my frail limp hands These Words Are For you Please Accept My gift For it is all I have To give My Abba Father— My best friend The one who washed me with His Words Like goat milk soap and the freshest rain Like precious oil upon my head His Words hold me still. Help me heal Turn my heart Still my soul Brokenness Becomes Whole King David’s words helped me through many nights. And Job’s words I carried in my lungs. Yes, “I know that my Redeemer lives.” Songs from Solomon And cries from Jacob. Wisdom words marching with ants Proverbial songs and stories that dance I long to hear from you again. Without your words, my heart feels bruised. My Abba’s Words are like aged wine. That gets smoother all the time. His Words I’ve wholly stored Tucked and polished and hidden beneath Inside my soul forever, they keep Like a river of never-ending love Hold me up by Your Word. Hold me up by Your Son. Take my Words and wash them in Yours. Take these words spilled on the floor. And whisper to those who no longer speak. Who step over the words I am trying to fly. That I love them regardless of my inability to form one word to heal To still This Storm . . .

Hate Is?

Hate is?

Hate is like a piece of yeast. It permeates and puffs up with satisfaction It says, “I am right!” I hold truth! I carry all knowledge! I will rebuke! It wipes its mouth with a napkin And still, the juice runs Hate dripping off chins Spilling over into diaper bins And storefront shelves Magazine covers, Fake news Hatred from the SAME WOMB. What words will we choose? To Soak In Kerosene And engulf in flames A big ball of detestation Abomination Hate picks apart a man born of a woman It pins labels neatly on their chest Or even discusses the cup size of her breasts Hate inspects with microscopes And pulls apart the chambers of one’s heart And looks for dirt It gladly finds a few choice particles and cries AHA! And holds it in its fist Towards the one who created the dust and says, LOOK! See what I found IN THEM. As if Yah could not see the grease and sludge pumping through our wings Hate never brushes its teeth. It calls throughout the streets Looking for flaws in people She’s too skinny Too white Too black Too blue Too conservative Too liberal That dress won’t do New age Snowflakes Ignorance is bliss You Baptist You Messianic You Stinkin Methodist You Muslim You Kabbalist You Fat Rich Jew, You Whore You Bastard You Pompous Proud Fool! Hate is a Parade Noisy and loud Marching proudly down streets Getting the attention of everyone it meets Hate invites us to wear white And enter buildings where good people go As we stretch out our pocketbooks on the front row Hate is quiet It’s silence during a time of applause It can’t stand or clap for those whom it hates It can’t even acknowledge A floral bouquet Why is that? Might the one we hate smell better than our scented stew? Oh, hate, please take a look at YOU! Might their floral arrangement Blossom and Bloom With more color More fragrance More honey More bees? Oh, hate, let love bring you to your knees! Hate will try and cover the good that we do Hate twists its lips while it shifts with its eyes Hate acts as if it has nothing to hide Hate passes the poor in the poverty rich streets And whispers I am better than thee They did it to themselves It’s their own damn fault And hate tightens its purse Its wallet won’t belch It wraps its wool scarf around its stiff proud neck Hate cannot waste even a dribble of spit It doesn’t even move its teeth To celebrate Another’s life It loves jealousy, envy and strife Hate has seeped into our pores Even in the silence It snores Loudly in the stillness Hovering in the dark Hate cringes at one single scented spark Of love It whispers words Green tainted Streaks Soaked into our walls Encased with Leprosy As hearts are searching for one Single Tiny Mistake To Grasp And splatter across the front page And why? For the sake of making us taller? Better Holier Than thou? As if we had all the answers Like Job’s best friends As if we could enunciate His Name And pretend To have His Dust on our shoes As if we were the ones who ran to the tomb On resurrection morning Hate invites It makes a request Come, join in the gossip Slander The ‘those people’ salute No, I think I’ll pass this time I’m going to the juke I’ll Smoke another cigar Pray with a sinner at the bar For the hatred has spread even among the ones Who Say God Loves You and me! And when we bow in front of heaven And we smile, and we say I am not like them I am better, you see? More righteous More holy More pure And our lips part to utter Words Empty Painted Words Floating up Laced with snuff A Lingering Garbage dump of Words shut up in our bones rotting Let us stop May we Inspect our own fruit May we inspect our love? And the weight thereof Weighing it against the hate that’s still pumping through our veins And wash And submerge In the waters of the muddy Jordon And allow Him to scrub us clean And echo His Words The one who bled and died For ALL The wombs that ever came forth And inhaled Eden Or crossed the Reed Sea And left Egypt for a mouth Flowing with milk And honey! Oh, Love, come and save us from our lips, And burst forth like the light of Sabbath rising over the hills. Into our parched, hungry souls. Help us to become Whole Echad.

Bruised Plum

pro-church-media-7NGU2YqBue8-unsplash

Bruised Plum

They were unpromising Words grated like cheese. Words reduced to small shreds. Words strung like pasta. Tossed like a salad Thrown together with a pinch of thyme And oregano The other morsels were small. Irritants Acidic Tomatoes, garlic, and onions Barely noticeable to the tall ones Their necks stretched out in the clouds. They see the aged with grey hair as mere babies. Standing in need of correction. Their wisdom is tossed in the air like pizza dough. Nothing tastes decent until it’s heated up. They baked her in the oven with egg wash on her face. Disgraced My Father took a cloth and removed their lipstick. It was bruised plum number 240 She barely noticed any longer. She was singing songs in her head while their lips moved. Dodi li va-ani lo, ha-roeh Bashoshanium Thinking of her husband’s mouth splattered in paint Paintball guns blasting colors at different ones With our tongues Sweetened by the juice of a pomegranate What if our hearts were exposed in our ribcage? What if they glowed red with rage when angered? And the whole world knew? Or turned black when we had hate And the whole room prayed in tongues Where would we hide from our colors? Of green with envy What if they turned pink like the sun setting when we felt loved And loved our neighbors as ourselves. What if we all leaped over the hills Dancing among the lilies With our Beloved Who washes our bruised plums? Until Our hearts are glowing amber.