Very nice black bird in the tree today, said my father’s mother, as she said her grace. His eyes are blue with magic, they burn with foreign fire, they circle me with six points, interpret my desire. That Turdus merula, is darker than the night delayed, detached yet from the living he sees with other sight. Said my father’s mother if I breath by right, a son I will be given, I’ll birth him in the night. That hew upon the high ground that looks just like a star, will call upon the dark bird to name this baby knight. His sign shall be a jackdaw, on spirit he shall grow, divisible by wonder, his marvel cherished bright, a colorless of ageless, and a temperate on the right, a blackbird of the sages, determined by his sight. Ten and twenty Grackles have summoned while he plays, they fly in awe majestic, he turns they float away.

The Crow he called out early, the day the world stood still, the day my father’s mother said name him as you will. Whatever is his worry the Rook will be his guide, he’ll fly him into battle, and he’ll watch him when he dies. In the highland thistles, a blackbird looks your way, his eyes are blue with magic, and he will not look away. Chasten now your story, believe your wisdom done, In Merle you have your glory, a blackbird is your son.

In Merle you have a name ship that’s shadowed by the sun. A Rook that flew between names, from father down to son. There cries within a namesake a search for why or when, to challenge all your answers to settle all your sins. If I dream of Ravens that lead me to my home, have I found a haven will I no more roam. However seems my journey, this name that I’m assigned, like he who went before me, I will not know but why. Ten and twenty Grackles have summoned while I write, they fly in awe majestic, I turn they float away.




My Father’s middle name was Merle, as is mine. It means Blackbird. – 06.27.2014 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Ides of Parts

This time he’s breaking, while the moon turns its back and the days grow longer, his retain is cracking, a riddle is becoming harder to take, his mind its delicacy is becoming the ides of parts. Revelry broken, tangled weeds, a mind tattered, rocks in fine sand, there in fashion he falls, there alone he recedes before the raw darkness, before the emptiness of a beautiful mind. This time there’s a hopeless lonely dark spark, a soul with carved cuts in the shape of isolation. What silence beholds this dark eyed grace, held by daemons in haunting screams my heart, he falls in the ides of parts?

In seconds, moments of jagged pain, cold realities of fragile dreams are released. Words, diagnosis, prognosis of logic sifting and coming forth like dead Greek winds on the oaths of Hippocratic knowledge. Tablets to stop the rain, to paste together false band aides on the ides of parts. On his knees, his silver Magen David hanging wet with damaged cries. A misunderstanding between his creator, his Hashem, his builder and he. The long night wears on, he conceives, he breaks and still he shines in this strange dance, this bloodless war born in the mind of my son. Here, he alone, he within me, and yet so far from where I can stand, his to crawl into the ides of parts.

Like a waterfall that crystalizes and is born into quartz his mind finds sheen, and in division and ritual it creeps. The echoes of his screams will not die, they hang delicate in the night air unmoved by his father’s prayers. It is the Ides of Parts. All is well I suppose. In tragedy all kingdoms are given. What is broken is unyielding and it is like Ryan’s love, great and unfolded, he gleams like a dominion. He is like an enchantment billowing his story untold, and even in this mindless place of dialogue between logic and pain, he shines. Like the glow of those mysteries written upon runes that no mortal eye can see, he lives, suffering, gleaming in the ides of parts.


For (the reason) my son Ryan whom I love very much. – דָּנִיֵּאל


Mother You Have Fought a Dragon

Image courtesy of original

Mother you have fought a dragon, it dragged you to some shore. Terror free and in reprieve you have prayed for never more. Woman you have birthed a heartache, one that bled your soul. Ten to one you have fought and won, and begged to win no more. Charming leaves that fall in spring, never following a guide. Children roam with gods unknown, and issue a summons of pride, and you will cry them through, to a place of you, in a storm laid grace, you will hide their face and in your love they abide.

Mother you have issued summons, lost a battle in the dark. Writ it please to lose judgment, and please, compassion with a start. Female you have challenged souls of angels, asked for love where devils play. This destiny of what you see, is what your will wants staid. Passion dies where ego starts, what will of child, will lose the day, when stars and poems fall from G_D’s eyes when a mother turns her love and prays. Your child, has future work in shadows, a walk that fights to reach the dawn, a mother she begs to join the battle, in tears she nurtures time not won.

Mother you will run on razors, bleed where daemons dare not come. Serenade a chorus, by rhyme, sown by footprints in a mind, there by nature, a wonder born, there a mother lined and worn, there her purpose with her love she sees. Lady by your creed your labor, in your very virtue find, mother you have fought a dragon, the keys to some dungeon shine. Son you breathe, when she believes, amass your fortune, heal your ghost wound, it has heard your mother’s cry. Daughter your kingdom, hive your anger, she’s your mirror, she’s your maker, she is by your side.

Mother you have fought a dragon!


For every mother who has fought for her children! Happy Mother’s Day! – דָּנִיֵּאל 05_10_2014


A song set in simplicity that has no rhyme or reason to be, a tune set before there is melody. Glazes of splendor, two in sweet paradigm you have grown before me. Stunning, like the substance of G_D’s dominion in me, placed purity of the love we made. Times you will climb, times you will fight, and when you fall you will shatter me but I will never turn away. The moon and stars, did you see them tonight, did you know they reached for you and then fell from the sky. That’s okay, that’s the reason I pray, and most of the time the words meet your destiny and fall into a mystic grace. The love I feel sometimes is displaced, and truth be known like my father before me you will never know its candor, until the morning sunlight hits your face and you touch my ghost at play. In quality I sired you before the face of G_D’s thunder I begged you to be blessed before second place, and in compassion this life’s wilderness was replaced with the elegance of YHWH’s refining fire that stands before me. There are warnings, attributes and words of linen fine I could utter, choices, blessings, instructions, rare psalm’s I could sing on a summer’s night. They would only take away from what has already been placed in you. So I remind you, I place you in the travesty of this atomic age, and place your hearts before you for only one holds you. You are chosen twice like two twins before his endless space and time, in compassion resting glowing cherubim’s before your fate. My faith, my belief, you are two risen before me, resting like peridot and sapphire without a care. A path before you arises, a change before you someday soon. It comes to harvest like a daemon full of puritan spark. I will be there, through the veil, I will see you, looking back at me. I will watch you run to quiet the storm, and like the song you are, that song set in simplicity, that one with no rhyme or reason to be, you will create melody. דָּנִיֵּאל

The Rite


Tonight while the weather’s cold, forget your own body, beholden your soul.  In thrilling moments while change draws near, smile with your last breath, cancel your fears.  Author your foothold on a sheltered claim, challenge, your spirit, determine your pain.

Know in the morning you’re a better man, for owning your birthright and blessing the plan.  Terrible thunder, an omen, a sign, comes now the lightning before we dine.  Treasure the stories from far and near, how the Hebrews held Masada and died in their tears.  How legends tell purpose emboldened by flame the shadows tell stories the lessons the same.

The chalice of forgiveness it comes not in blood, but strength of your wisdom, wealth of your love.  A warrior be willing, a sovereignty you will give, to build your own kingdom, and watch people live.  Your blade is still forging in mystical time, a tool of G_D’s temple, your melody to find.

I bow in your shadow of wisdom you seek, I raise you a builder, the star of the key.  What I was watching, a child at strange play, a builder of esoteric temples, a sorcerer has come to craft the way.  The fortunes of people you hewn from your stone, a temple to YHWH, a gathering home.

We sleep in the forest and wait the dawn, the seal of the starlight, I awake and you are gone.  I dreamed we were together, I warred with strong words, like David before me I sinned against earth.  Your delicate nature I found in the grove, a gathering of angels, in spirits and stones.  You prayed for sweet wisdom, your face how it shown, your destiny living in one alone.

The face of your childhood while vanished stills lives.  Incomparable knowledge born from this man, a branch of forever, scratched in your hand.  In shadows of pine trees we sang where we lay, the rite of your magic is born in this way. – דָּנִיֵּאל 02/24/2014

Praetorian Child


Praetorian child, guard that surrounds the brilliance of the soul.  Gift to the lonely, wonder without blame.  Still shooting star that follows G_D’s logical reunion, and wisdom’s final reign.  Spectrum of the cosmic, author that writes melody and places it as genius in human hands.  Forever your vision, not held backwards, or present undefined by crooked emotions or the fall of sinful man.  Graciousness shown, without expectation his soul is revealing the Torah unknown.

Praetorian child, seraphim that guards magic, molecular thunder, refinement of grace.  Contraction of darkness, deflection of sorrow, definition of love in YHWH’s eternal embrace.  Inside the numbers, the patterns of logic. The art of enchantment my son you have shown me the light of his face.  In tactical drawings your fingers striking wands of fascination divining great treasures from your preconceived plan.  Destiny of energy, my joy of beholding the secular puzzlement of knowing you can.

Praetorian child, Augustus of marvel, you guard in strange beauty, G_D’s gift to this man.  Some nights when you suffer, bad karma of others, the ghost of bad keepers they come then retreat.  I watch as you see pain and taste of its poison, but still in your essence you never concede.  In death of life’s vanity, I kneel on my kingdom, you guard me in heaven with your gift below.  Our laughter in danger it lights our way further, my guard of the present, forever we go.

Some would define certain of our sons and daughters with a “SPECIAL” title.  Some would tag them, and watch over them in awe and trepidation.  How we regress in this enlightened Age of Aquarius!  I see them as Praetorians!  They guard our inhumanity, and although some would define their lack of social expression as the lack of a soul, they are our soul, and they walk for us where angels will not go.  This is for my son, who through this life is my Praetorian! – DS 02-17-2014