Lguber

Inspect my body for your marks You left them on the map As you were ringing my skin With your sharp, feminine nails You told me that voices fade And any euphoric sensation is temporary That's why you inscribed your passion Deep enough for it to stay

I like the smell of garbage in the street The crowded train without an empty seat The homeless man who asks for food The cab driver who might be rude I like the smoke that bites the air The barking dogs and those who swear The different faces on the block The fast food that costs a buck I like the noise that's on the road The stress, the mental overload The ads that sell what you don't need The traffic signs that can mislead I like the bars that open late The people who are overweight The polished shoes that rush to work I love my city, I love New York

All scars are made on earth In heaven there is no struggle There is no death or birth Not even pain or trouble There is no progress or decline Only the same eternal flatness Oh god! My blood was made of wine Intoxicated - I exist only in madness

I know the color of my eyes I know my weight, I know my size I know my voice, I know my walk I know the way I use to talk I know my date of birth and place I know the reflection of my face I know the pictures on the shelf I know my name, but not myself…

God forgive me for my sins I know I have too many I also have too many skins But which is me- if any? God teach me if you can, I want to learn so much Remember- I am just a man But you are used to such God tell me- am I good? Your child, are you proud? Or am I very rude To speak with you out loud? God bless me - I do try Do no be so harsh - forgive me I promise to follow by please promise you won't leave me

Some people enjoy life with a little spoon, eating it carefully like an ice-cream wishing to prolong that melting flavor in their mouth. Others grab it furiously by the leg, stripping it to the bone with their teeth, swallowing that flesh in a rush, pushing it down their narrow throats to fill up their forever lusting stomachs. Others dissect it with a knife and fork, analyzing it carefully before putting it in.    Others are not hungry at all and life is not for them ….

Wrapped, finished products, Flag draped coffins. Products of War industry, Manufactured globally. Made in Iraq, Made in Pakistan, Made in Israel, Made in Afghanistan. Death factories of mass production, Since 1914 in business.

Morning kittens, sunny faces Clumsy paws and waving tales Crawl out-of different places To “read” newspaper sales! Special menu for dear guests In their elegant fur coats Everything upon request! Fruits and veggies, cereal, oats How they flip those papers gently How they make those human cues How they look at it intently How they choose with such amuse Here! most desired dishes Roasted Chicken, tuna, cheese Those wishes - so delicious! “Meow!” can I really get it please??

Great minds once stood on earth With the same blood in their veins With the same loud screams at birth Mothers bore them in pains Giants, not in strength or height Inspired countless crowds Giants in spirit to fight Built vast cities from clouds Dreamers of what isn’t there First were viewed as fools But they didn’t stop to care For justice in rules Voices loud as thunder Echoed for thousand years Men of thought and wonder First battled their own fears ...

The soul does not wrinkle, it is only our skin The skin that cracks with time and holds the soul within The skin, the border from outside, the thick crust of bread The skin that stretches from your feet up to the head The skin that breaks from wounds or from its old age     The skin that holds the divine bird inside the old cage The skin that one day will make its final sigh The skin that will surrender and let your bird fly