My tongue's not my own neither the deepest longings
And neither these for pursuit nor grasping but to know
Of promises unknowable in the flesh but will be
For which given only glimpses of their shadows
And to know that before Time and for all times
Not futility as seeming for the Teacher is present
And so too the end's the beginning and vice versa
But to hear the Voice for in the dark the ears see

what is the teacher
perception what is the
student creation

Y'know if ever I was on a TV show
And the guy was gonna introduce me as 'a Poet'
I'd tell him No! **** No!! They'd all switch off... immediately
Or flee to another TV channel...quick!!!
You'd wanna introduce me instead as the person who was definitely 'not a Poet'
Call me a writer or somethin' else
Tell them, this guy he's OK, yea he's alright
Definitely 'not a Poet'.

'Cos I can remember being taught poetry at school as a kid
How it scarred a lot of us
You'd be given a poem to learn off by heart in one single night
And of course you'd never be able to do that
You'd need at least two nights
So you'd be up all night trying to learn the ****** thing
And you'd be thinking to yourself "surely this Poetry it's an Evil thing
Some strange grown up guy's peculiar words
That don't make any sense to me".

And so you'd go off to school the next day dreading it
And then you'd be called upon to recite the thing
You'd stand up and immediately be distracted by everyone's eyes fixed on you
And also by the teacher's withering look
You'd stumble through some of the words, then you'd lose your place, get stuck
You'd flounder about, look lost and panicky... Then you'd lower your eyes...you'd give up.
Then the teacher would humiliate you in front of the whole class.

Yea, Poetry was a ***** word to me as a kid
And to a lot of other kids besides (I bet)
It ought to have been hauled up before a Crimes against humanity Court.

my whole life
everyone tried to annihilate me
my spirit
my goodness
by choosing to laugh at me
to bully me
the girls
my friends in sublte ways
that I couldn't see at the time
the teachers who called me names
who laughed at me,
at what they perceived  to be " stupid questions "
but you couldn't **** my spirit,
for I am still here standing
coming in to my power finally
freer,
my whole life they tried to annihilate
me
my own parents
my own brothers
my cousins
my aunts and uncles
my rabbis
my friends
my exe's
who just used me for my body
without consent
who tried to annihilate my soul from my body
everyone tried
even many of my therapists
who tried to put me away
who tried to drug me
and close off my voice ,
and tried to tell me that I was just crazy
and mentally ill
and messed up
but maybe my voice
and who I am
is so powerful
and that's why they all
tired to make me go away.
But I am still here
and I remember it all.
I am healing
calling  my power back
that has been gone from me
from the time that I was born
and I will not allow myself to be used
or abused
again!

I am here
and you can't annihilate me
anymore.
You can only try to annihilate
the goodness of the world
but it will always prevail
no matter how dark the world
and its people get.

As I gaze at the Midnight Moon,
breathing slowly as I Sigh.
It wishes Me Goodnight,
and assures Me I won't Die.
The Sun will show it's Face,
after the Moon falls off to Sleep.
When the new Day has Dawned,
My Tears begin to Weep.
Life was a Beautiful Teacher,
that smothered Me with Kisses.
Alas I forget all My Lessons,
Hence I'm losing on the Blisses.
Time was a cruel Companion,
Which I lost somewhere on the Way.
Love was just a Friend of Mine,
Who One Day........ran Away.

If pain was a friend instead of a burden
– if I could make peace with the unwelcome
– if perhaps I could see her as a teacher,

not in a lecture theatre (distant and with sharp echoes),
but in a private tutorial with soft furnishings
and perhaps a vase of flowers.

– If her lessons came with handouts,
exploring, with pictures, the reason for the searing,
the overwhelming

– but no,
my pain is that annoying parent on a pointless trek,
refusing to stay silent,
incessant in her insistence
that we can’t part ways.