White nun dress girl with nursing hands,
Sympathetic believing eyes, religious fervor.
Public Puritan , respected, responsible,
Saving bodies, perhaps even souls.
Goodwill zealot, firmly perched
On pedestals of virtue, laurels bestowed.
In angelic light no vices encroach,
A beatific Beauty beyond reproach.
Collar caressing, leash attached,
Slut bitch crawling a decadent dance.
Behind the shades, private confessions,
Of passionate desires deeply entrenched.
To kneel, to grovel, to completely submit,
To beg to be beaten with a black leather whip.
Tumultuous cravings to fly ever higher
A mystical Beauty with a Queen's dark fire.
There is ...
no furnace hotter than the seat of passion’s flower…
no fragnant sweeter than the bearded clam
no tastier than the furry taco
no forcemore shattering above or beneath earth
no shattering moments more than the vertical smile
that can stand against it’s power.
And now the weary gloom my soul…
dost wail in fitful turn…
longing ever longing… a strapping hefty toll.
Desire’s nectar sweeter than the sweetest wine…
engulfs my very shadow…
reality weeps remembering those moments; pressing against my mind.
But love… true love… even the simpleton knows…
comes resting midst the thorns …
that bears the lovely rose.
Her fragrance embraces me everywhere…
her face as fine as gold ….
And I to guard with earnest care…
her heart I’ll defend…
and with my honor hold.
On earth,
in his beloved Jerusalem,
he could often be found in that tiny café
on King George,
sipping black coffee.
Everyone knew who he was,
but they all left him alone.
Later, he would shop in the shuk
like everyone else,
take a seat in the back of the bus,
put down his bags of fruits and vegetables,
and dream a little
till the bus reached his stop.
Everyone else was asleep
when he rose at four in the morning
to jot down the poems hidden in the corners
of his city.
This was his secret life.
On his seventieth birthday he whispered,
I’m tired of giving birth,
and it seemed to be true.
His face was tired,
even his eyes,
and yet something continued to burn.
I’ve learned the secret
of fertilizing myself, he told me.
I supply both egg and seed.
But I’m tired of giving birth
At seventy-six
he took leave of this world
quietly,
as one would expect of such a modest man.
Presidents and prime ministers spoke at his funeral;
thousands gathered to pay their respects.
When he reached heaven,
he was greeted by his heroes,
King David and Shmuel ha-Nagid,
along with hundreds of his poems,
their flying letters swirling around him.
The angels, delighted to welcome him,
offered him a pair of wings,
but he declined, saying,
It’s enough if my words have wings.
Tell me, where are the cafés
Other souls
wander the streets of Paradise like tourists,
staring at the heavenly temple
or taking a seat at the back of Rashi’s class.
Not Yehuda.
He’s still longing for the ruins
of the earthly temple,
for the ancient stones of his earthly city,
for all the sheets hung out to dry,
flapping like sails in the wind.
Thoughts of her constantly fill my days,
Dreams of her torment my nights;
Every time I close my eyes I can't breathe,
My insides, wound up so tight
And my heart stuck in my throat.
Wife asks, "What are you thinking about?"
"You, honey," I reply. A blatant lie.
Meanwhile, my lover snickers from the shadows
Of my mind, her soft hand trailing up my thigh.
Restless, I toss and turn; sleep eludes me
As I relive my delicious sin once again.
Her eyes were filled with passion, wild and free
Just once, I told myself, and my life as is would remain.
But it wasn't the case; now I long for more,
The weight and feel of her body on mine to explore,
To lose myself in his embrace and be found once more...
I want her as I've never wanted anyone before.
So many ways to say "I love you,"
And more ways to show you I care
And what I wouldn't give to see
Your beautiful smile as you stand there
In front of me.
How many nights have I dreamt of you?
How many nights have I ached for your touch?
How many nights must I lie in my empty bed
Waiting for you, wanting you so much?
You always fill my days with joy, my nights with love
I know that you were sent to me from high above
The clouds, that I shall see one day
As I make my way to you, I pray
That I can make my home with you and stay...
Until then, I will let you know how special you are
To me, how much clearer I can see the stars
Through your eyes, how much I love you
I will adore you until the end of time...
And I thank God every day that you are mine
Nobody can resist Greek honey,
Especially drizzled on an erect Arbor Vitae.
Glistening gold in the candlelight,
Come here, baby. I wanna lick it off.
Sticky and sweet, made from bees
Making love to flowers, from across the sea
To land in your lap, your erection
Eager for my waiting tongue.
I want to taste you, your essence
Mingling with the thick sweetness
Of Greek honey, the nectar that
Few can ignore, no one can refuse...
I know I can't.
She wears all black, despite the heat
It adds to her exotic mystique.
People watch her walk down the street
Staring from her head down to her feet.
"What the fuck is this?" She thinks toherself,
As they watch her move, looking scared as hell
Their eyes wide asshe passes them by,
Faces of small children, ready to cry.
There's no need to fear her, little ones.
She won't hurt you in any way.
If anyone has to be afraid, it'll be mher child
That sheI'll bear if I decide to stay.
Moms look at her with narrowed eyes,
Old ladies clutch their purses to their sides.
Sudden click of a car door lock, hey guys!
She couldn't give less of a shit about your ride.
Is this the kind of place to raise her kid in?
Ten good people for every asshole, but goddamn!
What is this place? Why does she have to face
The same shit each time at every door?
Still, she can't wait to see what else is in store.
