Each decision led by the fantasy. Once made it mocks the fantasy. What yardstick shall hold us In proper perspective? Lost in words Swallowed by emotions Deluged with fear, Who can really decide? Old grudges... unfinished fights Still nag. But one thing always remains. The present moment Walled in by bones And peeking out through the eyes. If anything has to be changed It is self-hate to self-love. Is pride? Self-pride the yardstick by which Decision ought to be made? What a burden to give the mind. The mind knows one thing. Poverty and sickness must be avoided And privileges sought. Then if the mind can be used In any Einsteinian sense It is willing. In a world Where such competition exists 'tis best to purify everything: Stainless steel... Swept carpets decorated in black beads. And then for a diversion, To put up the tinsels of Christmas lights. In such purity Where is the Silent Sabbath? Where are the more silent tones of Yom Kippur? Will the Gentile politicians Ever see a Jew except as dirty? Will the Gentile politicians Ever understand the immediacy Of the Jew? All playgrounds are the same With their hope for diversion. All languages are the same With their hope for communication. Foreign languages pass through me Like a laxative. Like rancid smells They must be sidestepped. If for a moment I ask myself What will make me feel proud? Can a Jew feel proud? Can a Jew with the hocking of a Jewish Ever feel proud? Can a Jew feel proud? Shall he do it by amassing Money, knowledge, good works, creating myths? When shall I feel proud And say to myself, "Am I not proud of myself?" Is all pride an illusion Forgotten in a movie house And dimmed by the gunshots At the bar, with the cowards demise? Who can get through the hot day Without complaining? Who can stand more than a day Of penitence? Who is not an actor Building himself up Or tearing himself down? Hating each other We still seek the applause from Those who hate us the most. Is conciliation possible? Entwined in the impossible situation We can imagine that the rain on the snow And even the sunshine Can replace that something deeper. What does the religious Jew know of deepness? He waits, knowing the world Directed by G-d will lead the way And to be among the Christmas lights Is not so much obscene as trivial or odorless.
Irwin R. Shaw - 1984
The Search From Boredom
Each decision led by the fantasy.
Once made it mocks the fantasy.
What yardstick shall hold us
In proper perspective?
Lost in words
Swallowed by emotions
Deluged with fear,
Who can really decide?
Old grudges... unfinished fights
Still nag.
But one thing always remains.
The present moment
Walled in by bones
And peeking out through the eyes.
If anything has to be changed
It is self-hate to self-love.
Is pride?
Self-pride the yardstick by which
Decision ought to be made?
What a burden to give the mind.
The mind knows one thing.
Poverty and sickness must be avoided
And privileges sought.
Then if the mind can be used
In any Einsteinian sense
It is willing.
In a world
Where such competition exists
'tis best to purify everything:
Stainless steel...
Swept carpets decorated in black beads.
And then for a diversion,
To put up the tinsels of Christmas lights.
In such purity
Where is the Silent Sabbath?
Where are the more silent tones of
Yom Kippur?
Will the Gentile politicians
Ever see a Jew except as dirty?
Will the Gentile politicians
Ever understand the immediacy
Of the Jew?
All playgrounds are the same
With their hope for diversion.
All languages are the same
With their hope for communication.
Foreign languages pass through me
Like a laxative.
Like rancid smells
They must be sidestepped.
If for a moment I ask myself
What will make me feel proud?
Can a Jew feel proud?
Can a Jew with the hocking of a Jewish
Ever feel proud?
Can a Jew feel proud?
Shall he do it by amassing
Money, knowledge, good works, creating myths?
When shall I feel proud
And say to myself,
"Am I not proud of myself?"
Is all pride an illusion
Forgotten in a movie house
And dimmed by the gunshots
At the bar, with the cowards demise?
Who can get through the hot day
Without complaining?
Who can stand more than a day
Of penitence?
Who is not an actor
Building himself up
Or tearing himself down?
Hating each other
We still seek the applause from
Those who hate us the most.
Is conciliation possible?
Entwined in the impossible situation
We can imagine that the rain on the snow
And even the sunshine
Can replace that something deeper.
What does the religious Jew know of deepness?
He waits, knowing the world
Directed by G-d will lead the way
And to be among the Christmas lights
Is not so much obscene as trivial or odorless.