When Jimmy Plays


Sometimes a love song is dazed and confused!

I heard G_D made a woman to balance me, when I get mad, did G_D give that woman the right to know me beyond that. To take from my anger to take when I’m cruel to know with ingenuity my weakness when I’m cool. I heard G_D made a woman that knows me too, may be that’s why its heaven. blissful in the night when we talk, chaos when we screw. Chaos when we screw. So much for a madam, so much for anything that’s new. Who needs fake Teflon, when I got you? I’ll take what I have, because it’s better than good, and deeper dreams do come true. I’m listening to Jimmy Page while I look at you, over twenty-six years I’ve been looking at sweet you.

When the wind came down, chords falling, octave after octave, oh we hurt, like we never thought we could. Vows in light, real life in darkness, everything is suddenly round not square, not like the good book said. Jimmy’s playing his bow, oh the devil plays a bow, like lightning can strike a man’s soul. Children we got children, better than gold, better than pretty, we look at each other what are we going to do. They look so much like me, they look so much like you, what’s to imagine, I heard G_D made a woman, looks like that G_D made a man too. What we have here is a puzzle, what we have is me and you, oh, oh, oh, so sweet is life, when I’m dazed and confused. Sometimes a love song is dazed and confused.

I heard an overture, a dream, then I heard G_D made a woman to balance me. She stepped right on each loosed strand, each bow string off Jimmy Page’s hand. And I climbed an illusion that was hidden in me, the difference between me and Jimmy is I had her with me. For I saw the old man, she saw him too, and she told me, unlike that old man, I am going to make you be you. Go on now and play. Sometimes a love song is dazed and confused.

And we love for such a long time, for such a long time, while Jimmy plays, yes while Jimmy plays.

I heard G_D made a woman to balance me, when I am old, did G_D give that woman the right to know me beyond that. To take all I had taken and let me take it right back. To push me further, then I ever could push back, to push me further, then I ever could push back. I’m listening to Jimmy Page while I look at you, over twenty-six years I’ve been looking at sweet you. 05.25.18- דָּנִיֵּאל

Thunderbolt & Lightfoot (1997)



“Hey. You stick with me kid. Your gonna live forever.” – Lightfoot

Thunderbolt says Lightfoot, lets on the range go, therefore unto heaven, in stars of Montana our ghost goes. And you can be like Eastwood priming, the preacher lessons told, I will look just like Mr. Bridges doing yoga on the road. We can star in pictures, with the high grass in our toes. Mr. Lightfoot, says Thunderbolt, we’re actors on the road. The evening is self-serving, the stars fall overhead, it could be new souls entering the universe, or the exit of the dead. The two they come together, sitting closely side by side, the front seat of a “73” Eldorado, with the “Big Skies” up ahead. Oh, my old friend, my dearest love says Thunderbolt, as he looks up above, for once in our lives, let two old queens enjoy the road ahead. I’ve dressed for you in long gone years, you painted your eyes to absorb hurt tears, and when we hit Montana, the burning will finally end.

Thunderbolt says Lightfoot, the shows we have staged within, the glowing purgatory, hallelujah, as the curtain would ascend. But now it seems a higher purpose, breaking harder on life’s final whim, the fire of something killing me, our last show must begin. My dear Mr. Lightfoot, Thunderbolt’s voice begins, we’ve just entered the gates of heaven, Montana, home, where your life began. Look beyond the script of the movie, your life a cycle spins. I know a fire burns in you, my love my dearest friend. The ghost of a thousand angels, is beyond that sunsets rim. Wait just a little longer till we reach “Wolf Creeks” bend. There’s a place in all dramatics, your life can come to end. And what I’ll do for your sweet memory, for all those folks that you have known. I’ll “Break it to them gently”, I’ll tell them that your home, I’ll tell them you’re the best lay this angel ever had.

Thunderbolt says Lightfoot, his smile a disappearing grin, if you would hand me a different cigar, like Mr. Bridges smoked in the end. Up above this mountain, this steep road, the sun is glowing but it’s midnight, on the watch in my head. The spell it is upon us, the final lines have been said, the fire of what kills cells inside me has left its ash instead. Oh, my old friend, my dearest love says Thunderbolt, as he looks up above, for once in our lives, let two old queens enjoy the road ahead. The silence is between them by moments, as the silence of the dead, as the silence of the dead.

For Angel & Bennie (Daniel 7:10) – 06.11.17 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Bro/ken (Hold My Heart)


When you break, when you wonder, in your soul, how to hold your heart, how to keep it from being two, not one you see, but two.

Oh my creator, my symphony of broken joy, you writing rune like syllables in this little boy, yep supernatural as the sun goes lights out, dark, so weird in this little boy, I imagine it’s been this way a time or two for all of you. It seems you would hold my heart until the conciliators wouldn’t talk, nobody listens, it seems you would hold my heart, and damn it, damn it I don’t understand, you would let it go too soon. Seems the sun wants to set too ruin, seems a broken heart wants to have sex with the new moon, that place where shadows whisper too soon. And yet you would say to me, go on be empty but make sure your swept free. To many houses inhabited, where daemons have room. For something wilds going to come along, a dangerous topics going to turn into a song, and when, oh when you turn around, something magic’s going to turn without a sound, and G-Ds going to hold your heart, some awesome lights going to hold your heart soon.

And yes, you’re going to hear it, syllables without a sound, your own heart of joy breaking, face it, it’s high noon, G-Ds listening, and somebodies going to hold your heart, and it will happen too soon, the question is what do you do?

Bring me shadows, call down me flames, let me go to lonely, someplace where all there is, human as it is, great deserts of room. And let me break, it seems the natural thing to do, for deep unto deep it calls, letting me being hurt, and I will watch my heart break itself in two. Oh my creator, my symphony of broken joy, are you listening, you said you would hold me, than hold my heart, will you keep it after dark, from breaking in two?  Please let me stay one, don’t want to break to two.

And yes, you’re going to hear it, syllables without a sound, your own heart of joy breaking, face it, it’s high noon, G-Ds listening, and somebodies going to hold your heart, and it will happen too soon, the question is what do you do?

When you break, when you wonder, in your soul, how to hold your heart, how to keep it from being two, not one you see, but two. – 03.01.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל


Fun in Two


Sometimes were fun, a little bit blue, a certain instance of thought were one in two. All that I thought, that would make us true, all of my dreams are poor in comparison to truth, the thing that is all, when strangers are new, the beginning of all we had is better in fun in two. A lightning has come, that strikes glass through, a shining light of phosphorous love that seers we two, and all of the stars, and all of the past, historical ghost of spirits, that make us last. My thought of it all, is me in you, my head spinning round makes fun in two.

There is an ark, a mountain pass, a place of shadows in the beginning that seem to last. I would strip down, and make you laugh, you would strip too, and pain would pass, all of its right, from what we’ve been through, taking a story of legend, and making it true. Calling down daemons, calling down sun, twisting the balance of the two now that is fun. When there are tales spun by the fire, when there is time, and we have felt are spirits expire, we will arise, and make change new. While all around us terror, fights without a clue. All of it’s me, damn sure that it’s you, twisting and falling making love it’s fun in two.

Looks like I’m grey, with a wrinkle or two, climbing mountains has made me this way, and then there’s you. You make me grow young, with a spell or two, my witch I’m your fan forever, fun in two. Can we go out, go out in the dark, can we live on this mountain together and jump the shark. I think I’ll smile, and grab you, and as we go on together I bet it’s fun in two. Forever and ever I bet it’s fun with you.

Sometimes were fun, a little bit blue, a certain instance of thought were one in two. – 01.05.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Love above Water


Shall we fly above the water without our egos looking down, cross the raging foam of oceans where troubles often found? Shall we look at all the tempest that divides a world in two, personality disorders, between a couple fighting through? For there is a book of notions, that is written without a clue, that it says to love each other, we must become something new. Oh I would not deceive you, for I’ve seen the storm below, and if that liquid overtakes us then we sink to what we know. For what we know there in relationship, is heavy shameful words, and they complicate emotion from the scars of history gleaned. For it bears so worth repeating that it’s almost worth a scream, keep your love above the water, where the air is pristine clean.

Do you think there is a passage that runs beneath the ocean floor, filled with Freud and all his articles, what’s your personality for? Maybe Jesus or some great monk holds your souls within their hands, just beneath the Mediterranean, might be where your marriage stands. Have you thought it might be possible to divest from one and two, look at this your own failings forgive one, and bend for two. It could be time above the water, not invested in things of man. Not in social, scripted media, or somebody else’s plan, not a book in light of Buddha, not a wise man from the east, turn your honest eyes to others, tame the lust that is the beast. It is not a plan of heaven, it is not a smile than frown, it is consummating eye to eye, where your love will soon be found.

Shall we fly above the water, leave your childhood on its own, take yourself as wonder living, a simple breath that is your own. Come you now to one another without wave and weight of time, love your soul within another, above the water where there’s sky. Oh it is a special cadence that beats far within your bones, when you come to one another without personality or a home, and you turn in spinning laughter, holding hands in what is found. For above this life of water, love is found above, so sound.06.23.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Boats against the Current


A step, a thought, a solution to where we find ourselves brought together in the end. A phrase that repeats it all, until I fall, and oh my friend I fall, lost to it all. For perfection is consuming, no longer sailing alone. A boat against the current until the end.

Maybe, a line that last forever, dreamers lost in the past, is it that perfection is consuming, or is it time that will not bring us an end. Like footprints that never leave us after the fall. I never had you, but it seems something inside kept you after all. May be I’m older, but that doesn’t seem a solution, to where I find myself, wandering from the past. A dreamer I’m older, a captain out of order, and though I don’t sail a boat, I think my heart has found a coast to sail against. To sail against.

Lines that take me, life how it shakes me, and all in all perfection is consuming, for nothing ever stopped the tide where we thought we had rest. For a ride on a boat against the current, for a look that touches something that always last, there we are motion, waiting for the dark, and on our own will it ever end. Oh woman, I cannot pretend, the shore it seems to be beyond what I can bend. We are boats beyond the current to the end. So we smile in the dark, knowing things, that make us human after all, and we know from the past, we know, things that connect us to the end.

Frame of illusion, while seasons are changing, those things that take away tears. Did I ever tell you, love unspoken is rebellion against the end. Oh the shore line it keeps changing, but still it’s the past I will not defend. For a gospel takes a word and it starts with a spark. Oh beyond it tells it all, our tomorrow is all that is left, brought together, by illusions to the end. It could be, I would reckon were boats against the current to the end.

Built on an anvil, when summers were hotter, when all the feelings felt truthful, and bound to never fall. History thought illusion, but some stories are not built on pretend. Could be we were boats against the current to the end.

Unapologetically a rip from Eric Carmen’s Boats against the Current, from which many a romantic dream was spawned. – 04.06.2015 – דניאל

Driving Snow


When you’re driving snow, it’s like a woman’s body, you’re careful where you go, speed and then slow. For your find yourself, watching atmospheric pressure, sometimes warm, in slush a slicker row. Now take your time, your certainly no genius, G-D created snow, well before you know, and just like that she’s carbonate elusive, your tires and handling, can take you where you don’t want to go. A weaker sort can live a long a beach front, bathing in sand, and watching skin glow, but laziness, finds, a lack of imagination, there’s plenty of that when you’re driving snow, you know, the man who drives a cold winter road, he knows about snow.

Elevated time, to drive a peak, a highway, somewhere up where there’s a lot of snow, frozen gift, a find , a sort of magic, white pale skin, the kind that makes love flow. Driving snow, well above a tree line, changing letters for words to help her know, that when your ice, you radiate the sunshine, closer to life, than heat would ever know, some grow, oh man, when your sliding, turn your wheel into the slickest snow, and learn about what you should know. Some would fall fast and drive around a freeway where ploughs have been, it’s safe to go. What chance is that your soul will not find freedom, learn to spin, a blizzard, will not fold. In time, you learn to love to drive in pretty snow, the man who drives a cold winter road, he knows about snow.

Now that’s men, let’s talk about a lady, one who shines pure, a light of driven snow, have you been looking for a freedom, a man who drifts, or a man who likes to drive snow. That fella there whose not much for talking, the one who drives where others won’t go, let him take you to a place of mystic, where there’s going to be a lot of snow, then smile, slip and live a drive through a mountain snow. The man who drives a cold winter road, he knows about snow. – 2.16.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Dewey and Agnes

Dewey and Agnes, reach Opus Magnus, through grass, before the sun alights, his smile warm, and her spirit hotter. All of it before them, year after year, minute after minute, her dancing naked under moon light, while the wind blew, the fires came, and in his heart Judea sang. Dewey and Agnes upon Purim, young and new, silver and old.  Blushing children like in an Andy Hardy  movie, scripting perfect stories while the rains came, the snows plunged, and he made his way homeward to her inward heat. Dewey and Agnes in the ward, in the cafeteria, watching a child die, touching elbows, the great thumb wars, playing music, upon each other like wild children often do.

Dewey and Agnes bathing….

Dewey and Agnes touching fingers at the Synagogue….

Dewey and Agnes staring at the same white square upon the chess board!

Thistles and groves, all that life throws, who can believe in two when one fights each foe!

Dewey and Agnes, while the clock ticks, counting each breath and knowing each moment rich. Every dollar, every comfort, bought between them, while the world turns, great religion’s turn to dust, while they make love, under candles, tasting Shabbat while deity shyly watches, and then turns in blessing to build their home. Dewey and Agnes buying a Pontiac, driving a Ford, listening to Van Halen rock the cradle down, their hearts feeling the same as when Pat Boone crooned their hearts away. Dewey and Agnes in Egypt, living Passover, avoiding the angel, almost missing the dark seraph.

Dewey and Agnes bathing….

Dewey and Agnes touching fingers at the Synagogue….

Dewey and Agnes staring at the same white square upon the chess board!

Thistles and groves, all that life throws, who can believe in two when one fights each foe!

Dewey touching the grass, Agnes touching the air, both moving, score by score, year after year, queen to d4…. Check please under heaven not checkmate. The stone so grey, still warm from her touch, Agnes turns, as a woman who knows a king, and walks silently alone into the day. – 12.01.2014 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Love Is

Love_is_hopeLove is, when we have been dancing for a long time. When the sky is no longer bright, and we have learned how to make each other cry. Love is when we take turns holding each other tight in grief, because we are afraid our last hope might die. Tangles and knots hold together our love like mystical adhesive when learning our children are not seamless, and watching them fight their daemons late into the night. Darkened hard wood builds our house, on rocky cliffs, without romance, and dances with devils on shadows that throws us into each other’s arms and there we live as love is.

Love is, in honest words, spoken after years have passed us by. When challenge is no longer a game, and religion is known as the lie. Love is the danger that passed us by, like the angel of death digging up our emotional shadows only to find us laughing in the light. Ideas, enchanted moving bodies in laughter, finding YHWH as an addendum, learning character in time, bearing children and tracing the outline of our blemishes, when we are famished in our own storm. There then we lose ourselves, that is what love is.

Love is, watching our children grow in grace. When time stands still, and visions cease, there we stand a family not moved in silence, quiet and watching, we embrace, as love is. Our labyrinth we have destroyed, a destiny found, for in G_D’s compassion he did try us first and find us wanting, and there we were found. Destroyed overture, still entangled symphony, cut and bleeding, healed and growing, under and over until we could not speak. There in my heart always waiting still and forever more unwavering, that is what love is. Love is, when we have been dancing for a long time. – דָּנִיֵּאל 02/26/2014