YESTERDAY?

where do I put it
the anger
 the rage
where do I vent my spleen

where is the moment to yell
 to scream it

when is the time to say
I give up

when do I walk and where

 when is enough
  too much

when do I know
 I don't care
and
say it

I DON"T CARE!

yesterday?

WALKING

sometimes I feel as if i can walk forever

I leave the house invigorated by the departure

feeling free at last as if I had been restrained, kept inside by some invisible hand or command

I rush forth into the weather that is always a surprise

neither good nor bad

just different

I welcome the influx of nature

where I pretend

I can walk as far as I see

and beyond

But

I live in a jail, a huge jail

every moment, every step defines and limits me

I interact with what is

always

in search of what

is yet to be

I am on the cusp of non existence while existing exquisitely

with every breath

I don’t want to go back

I don’t want to stop

but I must

and I will

because

there is always an end

and another end

before

The End.

FAILED ATTEMPT

FAILED ATTEMPT

I thought I had plowed through
the forbidden
shattered sheets of invisible glass
reached into darkness to
the calm warmth of oblivion

In death there is darkness
comfort
freedom

Then day arrived
greeted by people (do I  know them?)
they prey
they thank god today.  tomorrow
declare themselves non bwelievers

they hover over my naked body
loosely covered by a thin white sheet
put there to prevent my exposure.

They don't understand
I am finished with my body

I push the sheet away
I scream "no no!"
through my closed mouth

Everything is blurry
except the white tape on my left arm
the clear glass bottle
that hangs by my bed

Soon that too will go away
and darkness will find me

CHICAGO ..... IS NOT NEW YORK

I am sitting with a group of people, it is a lovely church called the Church of the Three Crosses(non denominational), a beautiful building, a lovely pastor, I think, everything is nice here, so nice.  They feed us after the service and during the meeting, the meeting that brought me to the Church.
"resistance to the Israeli imperative/agenda  End the occupation, enlighten the world about the fate of the Palestinians..

I have followed this cuases for years upon years.  eager to be on the right track, out spoken at last, my moment of re-entry to the political world upon me when
This is CHICAGO.

There is a clear divide between those who are and those who are not.  A clear statement  in seemingly every Jewish place of worship or culture , that Isreal is paramount, to be supported, to be "defended".  that is what is asuumed.  Jewish people support Israel.  Only I don't! I don't!

and there I am sitting quietly, my presence a threat to the non Jewish people of this fine, lovely, seemingly inviting setting, wanting to discuss, to embrace and speak out for divestment, for a halt to the devastation of civilians, to a civilization that is crumbling and being  eaten up by the Israelis and the Americans and the Egyptians and I am feared.  i am a pariah.  I am not welcomed.  I leave the church with a splitting head ache.  I never get headaches.  i don't know what to do. Where to go.

Oh, Chicago, how dare I forget you are not New York. You are the mid west.  Hopelessly rural even in your  overgrown metropolis
you are an ignorant child playing in an adult playpen, your prejudice destroys over and over again.
You are determined to be blind and blind sighted, you are so seemingly open, accepting, yet closed,  an emotional liar, deceipt projected in your soft spoken kindness.
When will I learn to discern.
or
will I?

CAMEO CARES

cameo cares:

 

 

you say you are busy

always busy

too busy to call me

too busy to remember , when

too busy to listen when I speak

too busy to see the door

open or wait for it to close

too busy to say goodbye

to notice or admit you care

for you

everything is

moments

moments mounted upon moments

a flip of a switch

a change of  the channel

a flash on  a screen between commercials

when

you are in the room,

sitting next to me

and the screen

screams out my name

Cameo Cares

living alone

LIVING ALONE

I miss the smell of fresh coffee while lying in bed

the feel of a warm cover when cold

without putting it there

I miss knowing the time without looking

or the weather without going outside

I miss the sound of feet walking

even barefoot

the sound of a door opening and closing

while I am sitting in a chair or eating my breakfast

I miss the sound of a shower,

water dripping seemingly without cause

i miss asking about your day

or telling you mine

But what I miss most

is the sound of your voice

the feel of your laughter

the smell of french toast

on Sundays

even in Summer,

I miss the warmth

of your body and

the smile that says

so much.

POEM: GADIATORS' POUNCE

POEM :   He asks me
do  you know what Sunday is?

I search the inner workings  of my brain.  it is stuffed with days, times, things and more things
Sunday is the gentlest  day of the week, the most
universally silent of moments.  even cars drive slower, quieter
Sunday is my day to recover
not from work but from life

sunday  is……….
He is excited.  he is in anticipatory mode
as if he is about to launch the most exciting of adventures
but he doesn't go anywhere
he is home bound, by choice.

sunday is
and i, who shy away from local news
who turns on media to be entertained
not informed
 who travels when necessary
by car and elevators
detached from life forces

Food appears in plastic bubbles
and trees are reduced
 prepackaged logs to be burnt
or paper to be used and discarded.

Sunday is
no no! I can hear I am wrong
 his immediate breath
transmitted along  invisible  airlines  drops a fraction
I am off, out of tune
 out of synch

far from hot.

 cold as the weather
cold with ignorance
a woman again,
stupid because...

I know, I know
I say
I am thinking about shopping, what I usually buy
on Sunday and i am imagining Sunday
Chicago North Side
where the streets are so quiet,
painfully
enticing
no one is running, yelling
pushing

Sunday is a day when
men disappear and women rule

I know, I say again, happily and he is
excited too because
I do know and he knows that I know
and we know that he, by acceptable silent consent
 will be
 inside, at home..
and I will be out.;…  out
of harm's way

the Game I pronounce
the Game
and we yelps and I smile
no need to say which game
because at this moment there is only one game,
the gladiators' pounce

hurrah
Hurrah!