if there is beauty
let it crush the
miserable lonliness
of shadow

for egypt,
to the rest of us
let not one drop of her blood spilled be for nothing
let not one cry fail
to reach the ear of the world
let not one beating
or one hundred
go unnoticed
let not one woman's wail
be ignored
let not one egyptian child
cry in fear
tonight

do something different, she said
and wondered what she meant
what kiss,
what touch,
what desire
will fuel
the next motivation
the hopefulless trance

do something different

what if love flowered
in me
love myself
pure motive seeping
outward
what of loving and not longing
what of joy in every moment
not secretly wishing i could hold someone's hand
what of bliss in knowing
deeply
that to give
is to receive

fire in the street
silenced no more
gaia bloodied
again, again, again
breathe into humanity
deliver our love
as they hold tight
to their babies
tonight

as the beauty of this life
bleeds into oceans of pain
i dance and dance and dance
on the edge
and i am overcome

it didn't hurt much
to say goodbye to the others
worn their welcome
played their part
left a pleasant void
and distant memories

yet you churn in my belly
like the ocean on fire
you race through my veins
and smother me with
your
last
word
and i still hold it all
in deep calm
and wait

in stillness
my heart breaks
and empties into nothing
ready for
the next wave
of everything

when nothing and everything
become stillness

before darkness gathers me in
before liminal space invades me
before i tumble inward
and rest my weary eyes
as i shed the day
and imagine possibilities
of tomorrow
and beyond
before i let it all go
a word rests on my lips
asking to be spoken

love

wanderer
with a sufi soul
bound in failing structures
a postmodern calamity
caving in
cardboard boxes
filled with useless shit
busywork
in the thirsty desert
of the mind
lack of spontaneity is my disease
dis ease
dis able the cords
unplug the great experiment
give me my fucking village
a porch and a fire to cook
give me freedom
and grace
and love
and all that will be left
is the dance

but what of the moments you are not there
when the other is not there
these too are moments
in my awareness
when depth of thought
and utter aloneness
the winding chaos of panic
the vengeful claw of doubt
and self hate
take over the porch
what does the mind do then
and what of the heart
what of the soul
what of the bliss that longs for light
moonlight is my sister
and i long for her song

this poem is called, "in memory of the nine brave, corageous peace activists whose lives were stolen by murderous war criminals who spin lies, black out independent media, violate international law repeatedly!" repeatedly! yes, this is for them...in memory of the nine brave, courageous peace activists who were murdered by Israeli soldiers, in the name of TRUTH"

as long as the israeli lunatics
float down to deck
guns blazing like a bad scene in a low budget spaghetti western
or a disney kids' movie

as long as conventions and international laws
mean no more than the toilet paper i use every morning

for as long as democracy rhymes with hypocracy

and for as long as i wonder as i tuck my own children in,
'how many babies are crying for their mama's arms tonight?'

and how many momas are crying for their babies?

for as long as it takes for the tears to stop
for as long as it takes

with my palestinian sisters and brothers
i will dance
i will write
i will laugh
and i will love

with my palestinian brothers and sisters
i will stand
i will walk
i will march
i will speak truth
and i will sail

i will do this every day
until the collective consciousness of humanity
until this truth
is heard

if not me, then who?
if not us, then who?

-wendy goldsmith
june 2010

2011

vomit the leftovers
and shit out the violent
purge

no other way to begin



every pick
of every orfice
is under
intense
observation