Skip to main content

taking my leave

good bye
im leaving

take it the wrong way if you want
we were close once which is exactly
why i dont want you in my periphery

but feel free to
take it the wrong way id say youre
entitled to

i used to say that loves greatest mystery
was the
intimacy
trust
tenderness
turned strangership and the taste of blood
under clasped teeth and fake smiles and
anyway

people would trade a thousand hookups to
one person whoud step between them and
those who do what those who do
do
aint my people aint
my tribe aint
me

I

aint much

grown an old mans scent
and fat
bad teeth
and so
bad breath

thats about it

but my heart is banging hard and crimson
and yesterday i stepped between a broken bottle
and a stranger
without fear
thats me

and i know this aint my time but i have no intention
to make it mine

so im taking my leave
if you want you know
where to reach me if
you dont

dont

Labels

Labels:

Comments

  1. Clas le PetitJanuary 7, 2010 at 7:19 PM

    Sad but beautiful!
    I'd say with that heart of yours, any time is your time.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

What is the problem with men?

I'm in a bad mood. Fed up. With men. To be clear: I'm not a feminist, I don't believe men to have a rape gene or to be incapable of acting decently due to sociological constraints, general upbringing or an in general evil manhood into which we are socialised. Never the less, I'm truly fed up with the way certain men behave towards women. Part of the reasons are purely egoistic: I'm fed up with being treated like a potential moron, molester or rapist. I'm tired of noticing how women ahead start speeding up when I'm quietly walking home at night, and having too slow down or change sidewalks not to scare her. And a few months ago in New York City I was unable to get a girl to date me, to even meet me in a restaurant, partly because of her previous encounters with inconsiderate schmucks and madmen. Instead we talked on the phone for some 8 (!) hours, half of which was devoted to her interrogating me as to whether I was a stalker, madman, alcoholic or something o...
9 comments
Read more

Shul behaviour and pot smoking

So how exactly should you behave in Shul? I mean on one hand it is fairly simple: Just pick up any standard “Judaism for dummies” book and it will tell you that during service s Shul is a house of prayer, period, and the only conversation that should be going on is the individuals and the congregations conversation with the Almighty. On the other hand we have the facts of reality, maybe best summoned up by the following comment: “Well....Feinstein goes to Shul to speak to God....me I go to Shul to speak to Feinstein.” I guess at least in small Diaspora communities, there is only so much you can do about it. We tend to have enough problems to get a Minyan together as it is. So as long as people don’t start babbling during the Amidah, babbling is more or less tolerated. Then again, severe conflicts of interest occur, specifically during High Holidays. Because then a lot of people who otherwise never attend Shul turns up, bumping into other more or less secular Jews who they only meet on...
1 comment
Read more

Get smart or die trying...from slipping on the muddy tiles.

Some people in this building still manage to amaze me. When I went out for Shul , before sunrise, I saw one of the neighbors wet mopping the tile floor of the loft outside his door, apparently in an effort to get the sand away. I was about to ask him what the hell he was mopping away sand for, seeing as the darn sand storm had not yet subsided one iota, but then what could possible be the point of that, except to make him aware that I considered him an unbelievable Putz ? So sure enough, when I now 6 hours later came back from a diagnostic Hebrew test for another round of Ulpan, the plentiful water outside his door still hadn't dried up, seeing as Beer Sheva is not only windy, stormy and sandy, but also cold. What had happened though, obviously, was that more sand had blown in from the desert of our dreams and longings, turnings the 20 or so wet mopped meters outside his door into a bleeding, slippery mud swamp, part of which has by now entered all our apartments via our shoes. ...
1 comment
Read more