Justice


“For I know,

He would not encumber me,

He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother!”

The Hollies

Justice,

Passover is over, the journey self-begun, with whatever, the need my back can bear the sun. The gifts from someone, the borders for some, I am so blessed now, how can I not know you and not know someone, that looks like me. David’s inside me, Daniel too, I look in your eyes tortured, I see them both there too. And G_D’s not a menace, though it could seem that way, especially when your lonely, your physical body, no, maybe your soul, drowning in disarray. But look here, see these footprints, they seem to be mine, they have harbored death in curtains, but never made them a shrine. For here in this physical, this spirit made blood divine, I will carry you, in justice you will shine.

Justice,

The ark is a pyramid, built by a tribe, entombing lost glances of present purpose left behind. Addictions and lost thoughts, a happy hour too, but your built for displaying the light, apostle in you. it could be compassion, or justice in a strange flame, but when you look downwards, I’d asked you to explain. What purpose is living, when living is bad, when all you’ve been living in darkness is sad. Nay not it’s a gospel, say now it’s a creed, and justice in principle is what you can receive. And I am your brother, if your far or near, and we are together, as the end of time draws near. Not really a fatalist but something is near.

Justice,

Passover is over, the wilderness nigh, I hear changes calling, I must be strong.  I’ve my lost principalities, my stranger nights, looking toward the Jordan no water in sight. But then the  door has opened, our destination has moved in, and forward you and I in promise, we build justice, it’s carried, upon our sin. My promise as we walk, through fame through a flame, with lightning around, that dark cloud above the tabernacle, the sons and daughters of G_D’s name. I will carry you, as you carry me, in justice with all cuts and bruises, my name will be inscribed in you, as yours commits mine to the same.

Justice!

For my friend Sheila Lev-Rani – 04.18.2017 – דָּנִיֵּאל

What Lenny Brings

“What Lenny brings”!

Children grip your seats now, ladies hold your tea.  Gentlemen, now gentlemen, hear it all from me.  The verse that tells of Lenny, the rhyme that is so cold, is America’s future, that future that is untold.

Lenny knows that’s junk now, crazy in his mind, and he’s not going to know the savior, now before he dies, but there is something wicked, something good inside, that makes him know he’s alright, alright in G_D’s own eyes.  It’s just a simple prison, watching time go by, he didn’t mean to write a hot check, to buy his Walmart rice.  But it’s okay America, while Obama lies, your politicians rape you, and still you vote now why? And they roam around in parties, take each other’s wives, but that’s just course of living for a culture zombie wide.  So Lenny will just do his time, do his time to get on by, while your small business owner cheats on his taxes sigh!

“What Lenny brings”!

So prison blues are not of race, there filled with indecent cry’s, of a two class system, a black market tide.  And some day Lenny will be free, from these old Texas blues, and he will hunt you forward, and bring you G_D’s own dues.  For he is just like David, a king lost in the dark, taking bread from G_D’s own table, blessed in his own ark.

“What Lenny brings”!

So while these bars are spinning, making time go by, Lenny looks around him, and in his mind it’s tried.  For there is Pedro Louis in this hell hole for life, for he just took a Mustang, took it for a ride.  So many just like him, wronged, for a long time.  For this is criminology, backwards justifiably.  America, you have been sold, to the keepers of lost code.  Law and order is not known, from corporate lords who sold their own.  And meanwhile Lenny waits.  His eyes of brilliant, a shiny grey.  For he knows, that someday, these bars will fold.  And all your gilded gates, oh America they won’t be able to take, what Lenny brings.  All the things Lenny brings.

So this is kind of scary, a, boo filled kind of fright, but don’t you think it’s not too late to do what is right.  Challenge your position, on what is wrong and right, and bring a task before your governor’s, bring them to what’s right.  And love your own brother, the one who falls from sight, and demand that the ones who rule, follow the laws that they write.

“What Lenny brings”! – 09.26.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל

 

Red Cliffs (Absentia)

“The end of life is like a stage under red cliffs, except I’m absent”, he said, his words a mere gasp, his watery blue eyes staring nowhere.  “Who’s the cowboy”, I asked?  I was curious about the reference.  “Just some clown”, he whispered, and then repeated, “just some clown”.

I saw a mirror of my heart, it lay in a basket, underneath the red cliffs above the arid floor.  While all around me flew the dust of time, and I thought what was this meme meant for?  Far above on the ridge there was a cowboy, and he rode like a concrete stick toward the dawn.  And when he glanced beyond the red cliffs, he smiled, like he knew the devil owned the door.

There are times in this life when I feel absent, and those times it seems to me come more and more.  While I long for more attraction, that place of being, I knew before.  I know it seems like this is one big paradox, forever clinging to aloneness like it’s a shore.

For all around me minutes are passing, racing through my empty soul to reach its core.  And the red cliffs up above they seem cerebral, like a dying brain, can’t crumble anymore.

And absentia whirls around me, while I’m still breathing, and it curses anyone, who laughs or is a bore.  While the red cliffs shudder above my skinny frame, till I can’t remember how to breathe no more.  And those ridges up above, where that cowboy rides with no love, turn too steep to attempt to climb anymore.

For my mind births desolation, in it, prions come to feed, and when they jump for the last time, my contractions give pause to disaffect.  Under these red cliffs I see no reason, such bitterness, no content, and when I look upon that ridge one more time, no cowboy rides, just emptiness.

And then here I go, in a sunset glow, just laughter everywhere, red cliffs they disappear, and up and down, my lungs so full of oxygen, my breath, and absentia here I go, over the ridge to find my soul.

This is written for the absent, with minds consumed by Alzheimer’s, Dementia, or like my own dear father, with the watery blue eyes, Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease.  May they find their soul over that last ridge. – 08.10.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל

 

Integrity (Orlando)

It seems the nights upon us, far past what was morn, when gunshots rang out, and now the mother’s morn. And I would not be so crass to say what is left or right, but for this dark, this oh so dark, I will pray with all my might, for integrity.

Integrity it finds a soul in not what is new or bold. Across the electrical currents of media, it’s not bound up and sold. And if you think that it is found in left or right your political goals, your deluded in your ideology stop reading go back to your soul. I ask myself a question, when I pray at night, do I say please protect me, from my enemies I think aren’t right. Or is a better prayer said, Oh HaShem you are as is, from back beyond primordial to the time of future tense. Would now as all the world swims round me everything so tense, where there is both good and bad, and there is ego spent. Will you come down to this desert, life that’s ever spent. Will you fall like reigning fire and right the spirit bent? Will now oh legend all who worships, dark and light, crescent. Arced upon the grave and life the world that we pervade. Will you in all the storms of tatters, liars, norms and depths, in deathly faces.  Will you for those who think wrong and right, stifle their mad matter, let them think with insight, in integrity.

A warrior, you said, a warrior makes right, here in hard deserts where the wind blows with right, and all around me caters to wolves and the sheep, all around me fortresses of thought and deceit. And G_d of many ancients, Adonai oh Ruach of leads, Shekinah of  my dreams, you who with your breath makes Orion and the seven stars, come so still, bring them now still.  Come unto the willing, those in pain without creed, those who here tonight, care not of ideology. Make now a potion, of your right and left, send now a matter to those with no heart left. Fill now a prayer not against enemies, take this spell higher to integrity. When this all is over, make death even less, make no one with thought, think their right or left.

It seems the nights upon us, far past what was morn, when gunshots rang out, and now the mother’s morn. And I would not be so crass to say what is left or right, but for this dark, this oh so dark, I will pray with all my might for integrity.

Psalms 25:21 – 06.13.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Isaiah (Morning)

Morning!

“Do you not know, have you not heard”

It seems to me that most of self looks to another, looks to see, if what description that blueprint of few, is all of what Facebook, makes it of you. It seems that we look, look real hard to find our description, of what we are. We look to another, one less than, to say we are better, much better than. It seems to me all of what we are, is not real world, that of the blood, that of the reason, that draws us true like G_d or the season, we are nothing through. Oh simple man, or woman in skirt, one who sewed it, that made it worth, do you not know, or have you not seen, that Adonai made you, made you to scream. Made you to laugh, formed you in mud, made you a vampire to suck only love. Better yourself, the one who don’t look, the one who bends better, and mirrors forsook. One of the harvest, cut from the rest, that could not rely on what social said is best.

Morning!

“Do you not know, have you not heard”

It seems to me, that Lucretius formed a better truth, said that the Universe is centrally stood, said that your molecule, is human hood, made for the atom, made under sun, destiny fortune, better than sum. In all of future, gathered of past, right here before you, treasured at last. Do you not know, and have you not heard, you could fly stronger, better than if you lowered yourself into the herd. That lonely, lonely herd.

Morning!

“Do you not know, have you not heard”

So better your something, better your grand, know that your interest lies in a plan, not that of others, those that don’t know, those who seek victim, when their life is low. Do you not know, and have you not heard, you are created better than earth, not to a worship, not to a sun, not to a thing, that’s shiny when done, well really not to sex when bodies grow old, but to a spirit, that’s mystery untold. It seems to me that most of self looks to another, looks to see, if what description that blueprint of few, is all of what Facebook, makes it of you. – 08.27.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל

An Unsettled Bed (Grace)


An unsettled bed is not where you belong, waiting in the fire for grace, for you are rightly made, it is summer and springtime your bed is self-made.

“An unsettled bed” (Grace)

On the corner of Conti and Decatur, she gives her own body, for something of a lure, to scar her pure arms with a track. To have strange tongues lick her and detract, all of those things she thought good. All of her spirit her soul is lost too, at least that’s all that she thinks. A compassionate G_D rises, she blinks.

Unsettled beds, make us hungry, make our hearts want something more, more, more, than we ever find. The mind, it comes it goes in pictures, the soul it settles to meditate on scriptures, but what, the spirit knows is whether it is life or already dead. White laced skin on covers, the lust of many, many others, and yet the game goes on and on, like children generation from dusk to dawn, and still we cry in surprise when it is not an elixir. Come lay your body upon a cold altar, you think it hot, but it belongs to another, and still this G_D he waits in sunlight, quiet, not loud, just patient might, and still we go we choose another, some animal, to comfort our aches, and ruptures. Have you not seen the golden calf, it looks like melting gold. Have you not seen your unsettled bed, why choose it, when, his highness wants you instead.

“An unsettled bed” (Grace)

He lies on a mat in the ADX, his passion broken by American tact, a small time dealer from the Brooklyn outback, he’s doing time in Florence, and the man breaks his back. All of his spirit his soul is lost too, at least that’s all that he thinks. A compassionate G_D rises, he blinks.

A psalm it comes in the shadows, mating it’s lyrics with our battles. Oh it sounds so sweet and pure, making our lives so neat the cure, but how we seek a better excitement. The craziness of unordered dread, the thought of blood upon an unsettled bed. Turn around, and turn once more, think yourself, once better once more, and still you go the way of another. Lost in self, and danger, it steers your rudder. And then it comes to you, when you awake, your lover animal, did forsake, your body, lying there, with the snake. It is an unsettled bed, a human depravity, that makes you sad, and still you must know there’s more. A light, that glistens your unsettled bed, and reaches within you, wants your soul instead, and you walk like the stars and the moon. Knowing such goodness your energy booms, for you are the rite of his noon. Awakened a better made soul of his bloom. An unsettled bed is not where you belong, waiting in the fire for grace, for where you are rightly made, it is summer and springtime your bed is self-made.

“An unsettled bed” (Grace)

They lie in cold prisms, and pickup bars, all American swingers, married with their scars, and when he cuts his arms, and she vomits in the room, the other swinging couple just laughs while they choom. All of their spirit is lost too, at least that’s all they think. A compassionate G_D rises, they blink.

An unsettled bed is not where you belong, waiting in the fire for grace, for where you are rightly made, it is summer and springtime your bed is self-made. – 08.28.2015 –
דָּנִיֵּאל

The Animas (Dirty Water)


(Dirty Water)

She don’t need no government, she responds only to wild reeds, and forever gravel and sand, this Animas will roll. She will roll. I never thought this day would come, has G_D forgot a part, has man done what man does best, has woman let him. These places in levy’s, where the EPA came to play, oh my freedom, laws and locks, those chains, that makes us all lose our souls. Now it could be that G_D will change the laws, it could be those waves will not stay still. And my friend if that should start, that there, like an orgasm from a spark, that there contains an ancient ark. The beauty that memory retains, that farmer’s valley how she lays, legs spread, asking Shekinah to water, to roll down like a man on her needs. Then it could be that heaven starts, then it could be destiny starts, then it could be the poison in this river rolls on.

(Dirty Water)

Magic you bathed me, in the Animas, when I was low, when I was a child, there near Farming Town, there in New Mexico, you washed all over me. And there were others, adults with fishing rods and farmers with bills, who knelt to you, and now that control that cannot need, that coldness in DC, comes in oil, poison that’s real. Lord of the rains that wash away, come and take this soil unclean, come and ruin that thing that men of government, seek to control. And I will ask in dignity, this place where dirty water washes down, I will kneel naked in belief, to plead for laws to change that which we cannot see. For what was made in yesterday, this Animas that rinses, this espiritu that longs, this rolling water beneath, what held my childhood creed, let her roll, in her bedroom soil, let her cleanse her mate, with a weightless toil.

(Dirty Water)

She don’t need no government, she responds only to wild reeds, and forever gravel and sand, this Animas will roll. She will roll. I’m so sorry for the little ones, our children who come to cross, this dirty water, this place of spill, this poison, we’ve allowed, without rebellion, without a sound. So Animas, my old friend, I let you go, it was my sin, and this government, it allowed, for the people, we all did bow. These places in levy’s, where the EPA came to play, oh my freedom, laws and locks, those chains, that makes us all lose our souls.

(Dirty Water)

For the Animas of my childhood, which this government has come to kill. – 08.12.2015 –
ָּנִיֵּאל

Uncolor Your Hair (A Psalm of Fine)

I am a dragon, spun in a cavern, I am the shadow of mind. What is you want to, to make yourself stronger, you do as I say all the time. Be you young fellow, or girl shaped a Sybil, I speak what you should look, and it’s all in your mind. Still there comes a young knight this way. He’s poor fighting windmills, but in his own thoughts I have heard him say.

(Uncolor your hair)

Come step to a mirror, a solid reflection of those ghost of your body’s way. Can you scream louder, your looks come not prouder your hips need to learn how to sway. Here in this hallway, high walls that fall round you, your dragon says you have to play.

(Fine)

Make your eyes, look up at the pictures, lights that spin quicker, so it goes for that some fella, did you take your birth control oh my, dismay. Come this way wash your naked body in the river of grace, and don’t you cry, for this sweet spring of love it taste your life, and uncolor your hair, be anything in style, your soul can bare. A dragon does not play, he lets your soul fly, and eats all your conscience away, and snares all your promises, takes all your ego, he bends yourself over, and starves you of time and dear space.

(Uncolor your hair)

All the promises your mind could ever snare, a feminist of time but do you care. Fly into another place, break the sound of barrier space and uncolor, oh my love uncolor, your own hair, be the strange virgin that knows your place, uncolor all your hair.

(Fine)

Rapunzel come on down. She found her grief in color, spinning blonde oh turning colors of the day. Comes through a sharp blade, takes your strength away, and you in the twilight, while her naked body turns, and you so grey, why did you ever learn to color your hair to play. Oh my soul, I try to meet the strands of color, television runway yellow, is it all the dragon sends your way. Teeth so white, baring skin into the dark black light, you spin around into your place, what’s color bright has turned to gray, a simple word that would beg and say.

(Uncolor your hair)

Uncolor your hair, be the way I ask you, be not wild or strangely desperate, and know I always love you, in a simple way.

(Fine)

Comes a place, when life has surely bit you, took your body to a temple, that fades away. All skin and bone it surely drifts away. Uncolor your hair, be strength of what you want to know its lessons, that he wants you, to play. In all the lovely features of your face, my, my….Uncolor your hair. You my friend are beautiful, so full of what your made of, my, my….uncolor your hair.

(Uncolor your hair)

I am a sorceress, lit by an apple, I am a sweetener that ruins in my rhyme. What is you want to, to make yourself stronger, you do as I say all the time. Be you young fellow, or girl shaped a Sybil, I speak what you should look, and it’s all in your mind. Still there comes a young knight this way. He’s poor fighting windmills, but in his own thoughts I have heard him say.

(Fine)

Oh very young and very old, uncolor your hair, he hath made you fine, he hath made you fine! – 04.26.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל