“For I know,

He would not encumber me,

He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother!”

The Hollies


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.


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.


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.


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


3 AM – The First Psalm


I will write no more unless you love me, my eyes will no longer shine.  In the rain when the grey turns to white you will no longer say G-d cries.  I will kiss without feeling if you refuse to flatter me, for it is all I require.  Some host they ask for gifts of tongues I seek only your affection and careful praise when you are tired.

Your walls they have grown haughty with possessions and reverberation of noise.  Your sacrifices have turned like melted sourness your posture lacking poise.  You do not listen, when you walk, your lowered eyes negate my voice.  You lament crimes of other shadows, without seeing you miss the symphony of uttered words.  Your strange answers have become over used.

I carry fire that burns without warming, my passion cold with ice.  The scales have weights of feathers, no balance you find worthy to try.  I will laugh without smiling if you do not speak to me, for without words you are not free.  Some crosses ask for blood without pleasure, I insist only upon your reflection in knowing that I am me.

Your wilderness in G-d forms your haunting, a second of time that’s not your own.  Your world has turned my spirit to stone.  You refuse to dream of children and harvest, you summon danger and torment you cannot control.  You wake without sleeping, you make blood without purpose, you seek to beckon law that is not corporeal, and cannot be released.

Yet until now so far

I am the quintessence of your need of legitimacy, my compassion spawned on a millennium of your storms.  I descend on your thorns.  I will bathe you in solitude, I will give you even more, for sorceries and oaths not spoken I will speak your light immortal where you feel blindness no more.  A wounded darkness has fallen I will see you bleed no more.

Your love in me is law unchanging, it cannot move on the tide or rhyme.  Your focus and calm in momentum must heal my fear of our divide.  You must know my magic before first light, and dance in my temple when the moon is bright.  Your forehead and knowledge are ever before me, you are given unfettered emanation the first psalm and now judged sight.

I awoke at 3:00 last night free judged and the first psalm like flame burned in me! – DS 12/17/13