Tag Archives: Holocaust



It’s not important to remember days, and wonder
why has our time become so slow;
it doesn’t matter anymore if there’s no thunder,
after the rain, before the bow…

It matters not why in our backyard’s desert,
there are no camels and the Bedouins have left;
what truly matters is a sense of water,
illusion wildly clenching to my chest…

Tired, alone and ravaged by disasters,
battled by winds having no taste of sea,
sold by myself to unforgiving masters,
too thin to die, too obvious to see…

In no-man’s land they’re selling cheap allotments,
graveyards to be, or not to be;
some weird biochemical arrangements,
for my abandoned christmas tree…

Pater noster…

Holocaust gold teeth 2

Stabbed, with wounds as wide
as sentences awaiting to be read,
almost eternal gods on trial
for emotions never their own.

Darts flying all over boards
looking back and forth every arm
eying high towers of fake mahogany…

Dabbers have long dried out
from above every inch of tainted prayers,
sent images of cast gold
stolen always before sunrise,
pulled from behind lips
never finishing modeh ani…

To you meine liebe,
I will sing o tannenbaum in Yiddish
on David’s stolen harp.

Hail Miriam a.k.a. Mary,
the lord is with thee,
after he left your Joseph lost in awe,
and wandering disgrace…

Defiant hopelessness…

Never Forget Never Forgive

Nobody’s making attempts anymore
to stir a peace of roses.
Individual daffodils and bunches of sage
challenge shields of rage
hidden under profaned altars
of compromised innocence;
piled mountains of drowned chariots
awaiting another exodus to chase…

I nearly fell for you Delilah,
but I am blind you see,
incapable of discerning
between a hairdresser and barbers.

Nights of shattered crystals
call for vengeance,
and Picasso crying
shards of broken Guernicas
over forgotten mind fields…

It’s always midnight
on the side of treason;
either too early,
or too late
to find another door…

Don’t ever leave your clothes outside
when told to take a shower…

Ecce homo…


that’s what we are
on god’s minefields… 



Stay with me, little angel,
closer to thought.
Careless reminder of deep patterns
of asphalt, grey,
laid at each street’s corner,
forgotten by traffic lights and wardens.
No one sells tires anymore…
Only horseshoes, either too small
or too narrow for the inhuman
centipede called life.

Every night, wildlings of old
crawl into cobwebbed wombs
of ghetto shelters,
imagining christs and absent messiahs…


photo: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ghettos_in_Nazi-occupied_Europe#/media/File:The_Wall_of_ghetto_in_Warsaw_-_Building_on_Nazi-German_order_August_1940.jpg

The Shape of my Heart…


The shape of my heart
is blue…
Odd frame of mothers,
and fathers passing by;
never failing to re-write
the history of cubic thoughts…
Shifting patterns
of lensless glasses
always a year behind
the real need of eyes…




Poster (issued by the Jewish War Veterans of the United States) calling for a boycott of German goods. New York, United States, between 1937 and 1939 — Jewish War Veterans Museum