Category: Poems from the book Look Ma No Hands

Seeing Beyond the Surface

The soul is not the body,

Like the clothes are not the man.

The soul can be whole,
Even when the body is broken.
Do you know how healing that idea is?
The body can be imprisoned,
But the soul can be free.
The body disappears and is separated,
Like being alone but never alone,
But the soul remains connected through memory.
The ways we separate ourselves is the illusion,
As we’re all more alike than different.
Thinking in multiple layers of reality,
Can make you think you’ve lost it,
Thinking your soul lives forever,
Can make you think that nothing matters,
But then suddenly you want to do what matters,
Because the connection to other souls is worth it.
Seems like a strange game,
But at least we have rule books.


This poem was published as a part of Look Ma! No Hands! If you dig it, please support the author, and grab a copy!

Poems from the book Look Ma No Hands Poetry

Like most writers, I have a sort of love/hate relationship with the state that I grew up in. This is a poem about the last time I visited Oklahoma.

Going Back

My friend said, as I sneezed,

“There’s Kleenex in the window.
I assumed you’re allergic to Oklahoma.”
I laughed at her incredible truth.
I watched Fox News for the chalk illustrations of fracking.
I felt the earth quake underneath me,
But felt more connected to my friends than ever,
Even unplugged from the web.
I watched people of my generation rise up
Against racism, and I am proud.
I revisited my old haunts,
I rekindled old friendships,
I remembered what I loved,
And was in awe of change.
In isolation I fell into deep depression,
When I realized some folks had changed for worse,
And other folks had ceased to believe they could for better.
Some give in to fear, some give in to hate,
Some give in to pain, and some give in to fate.
They bulldozed the building where my soulmate and I met.
They bulldozed the one field of happiness I had.
I was distracted by sweet synchronicities,
But empowered by a childlike faith,
And the blessings of heroes and friends.
I told my friend I had to go,

And she said that’s TMI,
I said, “Sorry, I’ve held it in for so long,
That it all just wants to come out.”
I meant my opinions, but we laughed.
I spoke my truth through my art.
I made an album, but lost a friend,
Which in some ways makes the art meaningless.
The only thing I can control is my art.
Life is sweet chaos interrupted by moments of peace.
Oklahoma, I wish you well, but I do not belong in you.
I flew in two days after a snowstorm,
Was spoiled by good weather and rain,
And left two days before a tornado struck again.

This poem was published as a part of Look Ma! No Hands! If you dig it, please support the author, and grab a copy!

Oklahoma Poems Poems from the book Look Ma No Hands Poetry

Right Here
Wandering the city of my dreams,
With my grandfather’s spirit in my mind,
Accompanying me into old fashioned arcades,
Staring across the bay and sending love to friends who sail it.
We wander around on this merry go round of love,
finding the candy stores of our souls.
I dined on a heart attack between buns,
I longed for slower times,
And I received them.
The man behind the bush no longer causes me to jump,
I gladly ask strangers for photos,
I connect with traveling Texans.
And a man said, “you’re a steam punk,”
When here I was thinking of hippies.
This life is a candy store,

But it takes trying new things,
To figure out what’s sweetest.
And sometimes all you find,
Is that the marzipan still ain’t your bag.

 

This poem was published as a part of Look Ma! No Hands! If you dig it, please support the author, and grab a copy!

Poems from the book Look Ma No Hands Poetry

Baggage Issues

The plane wouldn’t take off just yet due to baggage issues.

“Don’t we all have baggage issues?” quipped the stewardess.

We’ve been cleared for take off, cleared for the flight of a lifetime.
It’s funny how traveling can more trippy than any drug.
You have your own unique perspective that you filter
This foreign culture through, cracking jokes, 
crying at the loss of what could have been.
The things we get preoccupied with in order to stay sane.
How I consciously sit in row 18, always choosing life.
I wonder if my seat mates are doing the same,
But they’ve got their heads up their tablets.
I’d love to ask you a million curious questions,
But you’re too preoccupied with your own.
I’d love to just sit and pick your brain,
But your eyes are on your phone.
What would we pay attention to,
If we were really paying attention,
And not so concerned with our baggage issues?

This poem was published as a part of Look Ma! No Hands! If you dig it, please support the author, and grab a copy!

Poems from the book Look Ma No Hands Poetry

Why I go to Shul
Sometimes I just show up for the food because I am starved,
Others I am truly lonely and I need your hugs,
Sometimes I am just there to learn,
Absorbing all of Torah,
And sometimes, well, mostly, 
if I’m honest, for amazing moving music.

Whatever gets you there,

It doesn’t matter the why,
Only that you did what you did.
It doesn’t matter your feelings,
If you overcame them to succeed.
You can have good intentions,
And still get really hurt by life.
When you’re hurt, 
you start asking questions, 
and find more questions than answers.
The only place I know to turn are
Books of wisdom or wise people.
People thought I was wise when I held my tongue,
But in reality I am a wise ass,
Still trying to feel like I’m young.
I joined an open-minded place,
To soften my own judgments,
And I awoke one day transformed.
So whatever gets you where you’re going,
So long as you respect others,
Keep on going, going, and when you’re gone,
You’ll find the only way to be found,
Is to get totally lost,
And it’s the things you hang onto,
In this utter darkness,
That will tether you to the end.
For me it’s Judaism, friends, and art.
These are the things that always awaken my heart.

This poem was published as a part of Look Ma! No Hands! If you dig it, please support the author, and grab a copy!

Jewish Poems Poems from the book Look Ma No Hands Poetry

This is a poem about a field near the house where I grew up. My friends and I used to hang out there, and when I went back to Oklahoma, I found many of the trees bulldozed to make way for a walking trail in the area. This prompted some reminiscing.

Inspired by my trip to Oklahoma, and how the things we hold onto from childhood pass away.

To my Strawberry Fields

I alone return to your natural sanctuary,
Playing the fool on the hill.
20 years have come and gone,
Since we first stumbled on your beauty.
Your train whistles still comfort me,
In my dark insomniac nights.
Your railroad shack and rusty classic cars long gone.
Your 100 year old bridge marred by graffiti that glorifies the death that I feel.
My friends are long grown and busy raising their own kids and careers.
Blanton is but a dot on old maps with its origins lost to history.
The greenery, trees, and streams of my youth are long destroyed by tank shaped bulldozers, my worst childhood fears come true.
I long for days spent with my friends,
Pretending to be musicians with log drums and stick guitars,
Sharing first smokes, and living in fantasy lands where dreams came true.
Memories of magical dusty pillows,
Swinging on rafters, climbing trees,
Hiking along the tracks,
Root beers, and toy pistols.
I brought everyone here who meant something to me, 
from best friends to soulmates, immortalizing this place in album covers and music videos.
Just like then, escaping my troubles to the silence of the shooting stars,
Meditating on what could have been.
Just like then still misunderstood.
In the middle of the night,
Before the sun arises,
It almost seems like it was back then,
A magical place that unites us all.
But I’m the only one here.
One lone sentimental soul,
Reminiscing to a different soundtrack not in sync with this time,
But blending into the scenery.
It’s just me, God, and the roar of locomotives on their way out west.
And that’s where I am soon to return.

This poem was published as a part of Look Ma! No Hands! If you dig it, please support the author, and grab a copy!

Oklahoma Poems Poems from the book Look Ma No Hands Poetry