March of the Living

March of the Living

You feel like you just wanna hit something

Your fist clinch

You dig in hard and prepare for more

And you’re torn up like a rag beat up and bruised.

Like this is war and you have been shot

Every step a pain

Each breath a chore

Yet you march on through thick and thin into the darkness

And when the end hits you it hits hard

Like a punch to the gut breathless

Unconsciously awake

Shake me down

And burn my feet to the ground

Cause I will never let you down.

Songs march on

Treblinka

Treblinka

 There it was seen a monument to a place that should not have existed

On a land which should not be hallowed

From a time where man has raised up his sword against other man

To try to erase a nation

Names unmarked

Graves not shown

Blazing in a land surrounded by nature who begs to move on

And attempts to breath life

But it is painted on

As green grass crackles underneath your feet

As though long dead

A rouse to hide what it has seen

Treblinka

Reflections

Reflections

 All these things I've done lines I crossed bridges I've burned

Calling myself on the scars on the back of my hand

As every imperfection replays itself in my mind.

Each heartache, greater than the last

Shrouding my past with shear sanity

 And I look to find a love that I don't want

To add another tear to a pool over capacity

I'm ten feet deep and I'm nine feet tall

I stop and stall like a broken-down car stuck on the far end with no more gas

Can’t keep looking back it's time for me to step

Israel in Words

Israel in Words

I have been trying to write a poem for Israel and have not one idea.

I have no words to show off the landscape no adjective to describe the people who are brothers who I've never met.

I can't seem to find the right lines and rhymes to bring the country to life right in front of your eyes like an old TV screen.

Trying to capture your home in words should be easy yet I find myself speechless grasping at straws

The raw emotion evoked from the beauty of the hills heat of the desert.

 I want to record all the sounds of the city spliced out on paper like splattered paints

The lions roar of the oceans proud strong with pride that says

I'm king of my domain.

Now as I look down the land from the hills it seems that

I may run out of time

To show off how the sun seems to reflect out upon the ocean creating a bright white

Where god lives

It is so close that you can reach out and grab it

 As I sit here and try to write down a country on a page one word comes to mind and stays there short and sweet.

Home

GAGGING

GAGGING

Who has that right to deny me my chance to be proud?

What brother denies his brothers that opportunity to express his pride?

 There are those who you consider not a brother

Yet for two weeks this family, be it strange as it may be is worthy of praise.

We've been through hell and come out in a land of bliss built with milk and honey.

We pushed through the fire and gas to the top of Masada.

These are my brothers and they deserve the chance to see what we truly are.

We are all alephs and no man, gag or not can hide that

Majdanek

Majdanek

Forty-eight thousand shoes each pair a person

Each person a family

Every family a story

Every story a heart beat

Every person shares a heart beat

Ba rump a pum pum

Ba rump a pum pum  pum

Each heart has 60 beats a minute

Every minute people die

Every death a tragedy

Six million deaths

Six million tragedies

Majdanek

Auschwitz

Auschwitz

There it is that smell again rising in the darkness

I know that smell and have smelled it before.

It's a dusty smell which fills your lungs and clouds your breathing.

The strong malignant odor which no person should know

The smell of death,

Of burnt flesh

Torn from the very existence of reality.

It burns the cavities of your body and as that smell of a scentless gas fills the air

You choke

Can’t breath can't hear, feel, or see

It’s light but it's dark and their is no sun which reaches that dark land

With that smell which should never be smelled

Auschwitz