Skip to main content

Posts

The Cape of Good Hope

There is a place in South Africa where the Indian and Atlantic oceans meet They come across the globe spanning hundreds of miles and they meet All the life, the wild nature, the stories and deaths and adventures, are all brought together Against all odds and intuitive thought, they are brought together, and they meet And yet, they still stand, Or -er- swim , at odds with each other You can stand on that cape and look out and be able to see clearly, one in blue and one in green, with apposing tides, two oceans, separate from each other, even as they meet There have been many days were the currents of my life have felt like that tide A million minor and major miracles bringing two families together over and over again In Poland And Persia And England And the Upper East side And the far South Africans rocks With the Far Rockaway clothe To make this one person This one line amidst an ocean That is both comfortable with the tastes of palocharash and gefilta fish on her tongue That sports
Recent posts

Revolution (A Slam Poetry Video)

Whether on the polls or in the media or everything they say we claim and ya it kinda of hard to live in inside this world were if we breath in, ya know, just the wrong way than everything we do an say is is cast away, ya know, farther than tom hanks. And I gatta say it tanks that we live on storming banks instead of storming down the thanks, crankin up the wow show just exactly how bang POW! how astounding it is to be here that we can see clear the skies with new eyes and realize that what defies those expectations of un-cvil-ization can remedy a nation with a little imagination and some carefully watched intonation and this growing sensation that we care. That we’d rather be fare than right, we’d rather laugh than fight, we’d rather see crimson blooded brothers than different skinned others we'd rather stand as a human race than race for the finish line that just means you finished with the last line, but no one’s mind is changed, just a little hatred was exchanged.  It’s ti

to all the boys i thought i loved

*inspired by Rudy Francisco* I am not a vessel. Sometimes I like to think I am. Like to think that if I allow others’ sorrow to fill me with all they have overflowing, I will feel fuller, think that the empty I pretend is there because I don’t want to deal with the full, can find peace in someone else’s tears. I am not a carpenter. It is not my job to figure out how to construct, how to fit all your broken pieces back together again after you have been used too roughly. honestly, I suck at puzzles and I’m wrong to think I can handle anything more than Ikea tables with diagrammed instructions. I am not your coach. Not there to be screaming in the stands protecting you from yourself and making bad decisions that will affect the team. I am not responsible for your responsibilities though maybe I use them to distract me from my own. I am not your therapist, Your nutritionist, Your mother. I know it feels nice having someone to fill every gap in your life. I know because that’s what I

"spring cleaning for the soul"

The broom squeaks, protesting my too tight grip that has lost the calluses it bore last fall. Dust mites made of cells from everyone who tried to touch me in the winter but shied away from my frozen skin, are stubborn against the bristles, unwieldy against the Tide™ of the rising Spring, reaching out to all the parts of me that don’t want to see them leave, don’t want to clear out all the dirt that has accumulated to make this space mine. Call me a hoarder, a collector of wounded souls, a grandmother who just can’t throw out her broken wedding china that keeps cutting her fingers. The soap won’t scrub away the crimson on her hands. It takes elbow grease to achieve a truly effective clean. It takes working hard, giving some of yourself even when it feels like there is nothing left but salt and water, which can burn the eyes. But tears can be turned into polish; I use them to clean away all the dirt and I breathe for the first time since summer, as the

big-ot-ry (/ˈbiɡətrē/)

The monster known as Bigotry has the general form of a scapegoat with the horns of the devil from your left shoulder and the glowing eyes from the first staring contest you lost. It stands as tall as your shortcomings and as broad as everything you claim is too heavy for your shoulders. It is summoned with the pentagram star of the flag you say you are acting to honor and marches  to the rhythm of your gunfire-drum. It has the shifting face of every school yard bully you have lost yourself to and the shrieks of every child who has trembled in your shadow. Its tail looks much like the back-end of a fish, flipping back and forth from whatever opinion makes you seem the highest and mightiest, scales catching the light in all the most attractive ways. Though its gate is led with a haughty head, its shoulders demand attention and when ignored they grow; more boisterous, louder, wider -   until it feels like the elephant in the room you use his horns to prod in the most painful place

This Moment (a Twitter Poem)

When even the pages of your journal feel mortal and breath is fleeting When words belong to the vacuum of space and living in fog is easier than searching for a clear day When all you want is to leave behind your right mind and get lost outside yourself This moment is #forever — Eli A (@ItsNotEllie) April 18, 2018

Ohana

*inspired by Lilo and Stitch “ohana” means family family means no one has to cry alone or wear a mask no one has to cry alone means you will never go into battle solo you will never go into battle solo means they will mourn your losses or fight to make sure they don’t happen wear a mask means pretending you’re okay when the ground is falling from beneath your feet pretending you’re okay when the ground is falling from beneath your feet means smiling when your heart is screaming or leaving the house in the morning when your bed is the only company you can get yourself to tolerate Hebrew is the language of my family “shalom” means peace peace means finding small victories in every loss you face “ohana” means “shalom”