Beryl Dov Quotes

Letter to God from 6 Year Old Boy
dear GOD,
pleze turn cigarets into dynomite sooooooooooooooooooooooooo
when people light it ther heds explods up to peces!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
your best frend
Kevin

Sorry My Love
The more you think you know me,
I hope the less you'll understand,
for once you fathom I'm a made man,
death will take you by the hand.

In a shallow grave you'll be buried,
my shovel piercing frozen ground.
Sorry,
I can neither leave loose ends untied,
Nor can I leave witnesses around.

Slim Volume [10w]
A slim volume of poetry appears plump if it's yours.

Poetry's Expiration Date {Couplet}
No poem older than a day,
has anything truly timely to say.

Revenge
Hate rarely.
But if and when you must hate,
throw love to the Devil
and hate with the most brutal and burning vengeance
until nothing remains of your enemies
but smoke.

Sillage
Whenever I walk in the woods,
I feel some unaccountable sense
of having trodden this new path before.
My feet sink deeply into the invisible steps
of some bold predecessor
who begs not to be forgotten,
some hunter following the tracks of prey,
some courageous child at play
dragging a stick into the earth
to find his way back home.
However pristine new trails seem,
some forebear at some time,
has left a tangible trail of memory behind,
a sillage to guide me through the unknown.

Soulmate My Ass [10w]
Aspire to marry the person
the least wrong for you.

Love in the Afterlife [10w]
Maybe I'll love you in the afterlife.
This life, fuhgeddaboudit.

Pond(er) This [2]
I don't want to be the loudest tail wagger
in the Hello Poetry kennel ~

I just want there to be less of you
flea bag bitten bitches in heat.

Enough already,
with your bullshit barking.

SIT STILL!

Thaaat's it. Good girl!
You're a good dog, aren't you?
Let me scratch behind your ears
and give a another treat of my wit.

The Only Time You'll Ever Have to Be Poetic [10w]
When God asks,
"Why should I let you into Heaven?

Prtty Women
Each time I tell a pretty woman
how special she is
and she still chooses to ignore me ~
I get an epiphany about
how much more special I am
than that fucking narcissistic bitch.

Speculator [10w]
A speculator's eyes light up alternately by greed and concupiscence.

Never Trust...
Never trust
a skinny cook,
a kid in a hoodie,
a hooker who says she loves you,
a wife secretly planning to divorce you,
a policemen who didn't read you your rights,
a journalist who says agrees what you say is 'off the record',
a man who says, 'We don't need no contract, my word's my bond'.

Place your trust in God and in God alone ~
all others pay cash.

Trust Me

Foodiedom
Never in the history of foodiedom
has food at a newly discoveredrestaurant
tasted as good on the second visit.

Rooster Heads [10w]
Rooster heads oddly resemble red surgical gloves on tennis balls.

Telekinetic Poker Players
You can tell telekinetic poker-players are bluffing ~
they raise you.

New Yorkers [10w]
New Yorkers dwell on their misfortunes
because
rents are outrageous.

Take Charge
'Grab a bull by the horns' is shitty advice
that will only lead to being gored
and a lengthy hospitalization.

Person of Interest [10w]
He's become a person of interest in his own suicide.

Timeless
Days without rhythm
Without bottom or top
In the arms of my lover
Time seems to stop.
Days become months
Which flow into years
Love's hourglass measures
Just two kinds of tears.
The first kind is cheery,
It sweetens the cheek;
The other burns bleary
It's black and it's bleak.

This Sunday or Friday,
I'm not quite sure when,
I'm going to turn thirty,
Or twenty, or ten?
It'll be my love's birthday
Or was it just mine?
I doesn't much matter
There's plenty of wine.
Should she go to heaven,
I dread to know when,
I'll count every second
Till we meet again.

Whispers of the Muse
The poet that truly strives to forge new meaning in his poem,
miraculously creates the vocabulary and imagery he needs to do so.

The Power of Now for Sociopaths
After reading Eckhart Tolle I realized
I must create space in my life
to toss my ex under a bus,
and once that space is manifested
there will be no better time
to kill the bitch than now.

Marathon Runner
Chopstick legged you sprint
a marathon journey of 1000 steps
to tick off this and that
before the click of now and then
and though you've wandered far
there's curious comfort in return
to that double helix of heritage and home
calligraphied in your ancestral compass.

Listen closely, Lil.
There is no finish line,
no time to beat,
no mileage goals to set.
You are a lone competitor
in a race against yourself.
Breathe Lil, breathe,
and smell the wildflowers
at the wayside.

Pursuit of Wealth [10w]
In the pursuit of wealth we acquire immunity to humility.

Life as Art
If you want to turn your life into a masterpiece
you must humble yourself to sell
a couple of shitty postcards
along the way.

One Size Fits All Advice
Do anything for as long as it feels like an adventure;
stop it once it begins to feel like work.

Random Acts of Kindness [10w]
Performing random acts of kindness invites random acts of imitation.

Jonesing [10w]
Is it odd of me that I'm Jonsesing for strange?

Righteous My Ass
Who the general public perceives
as our most righteous men
are often extremely clever hypocrites.
The truly righteous are the truly hidden.

Hate Sits on a Stool
Hate sits on a 3-legged stool of
suspicion, jealousy and fear.
Kick away any one of these legs
and the hater will fall flat on his ass.

The Worm at the Bottom of the Bottle
Blue agave, spiny like the desert cacti,
once fermented in the mesquite barrels of Jalisco, Mexico,
is now manifest in the liquid smoke of my Tequila bottle.
By the third shot, I think I'm in love with the gusano,
the red caterpillar people mistake for a worm, pickling
intact, attesting to the purity of the holy spirits.
I shake the bottle and the worm falls like the fresh powder
in my Montreal snowglobe of an ice skater,
the globe's Christmas melody replaced by La Cucaracha
playing convivially on my mind's soundtrack
(in a bit in a rut because I've forgotten the second stanza).
The worm has hit bottom, and so have I.
I don't take this an ominous portent,
but as a sign it's time to ditch the glass
and drink straight from the bottle.

I have only one simple question for Hello Poetry Members who are following other poets but deliberately choose not to follow me... [10w]
WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU FOLLOWING POETS
MUCH LESS CREATIVE?

R-o-l-a-i-d-s: How do you spell relief? [10w]
J-a-c-k-i-n-go-f-f.

Revelation [10w]
Creation becomes revelation for those who can see God's intent.

That bear hug of yours embraces
worlds in its squishy compass,

concavity nested in convexity,
simplicity vanquishing complexity,

in folds of flesh enfolding time,
enmeshed eternal in love sublime.

One of life's ironies is that when we finally receive attention
it's not precisely for the thing we really hoped for.

Two Obligations [10w]
We've got two obligations in this world:
Love and Poetry.

Good Egg [10w]
Picking up the pieces is the responsibilty of the egg.

Self-Improvement
Turn yourself into a neighbor worth loving,
and then keep moving.

Privacy [10w]
There's no such thing as privacy outside of your skull.

Garden [10w]
A garden is a poem
written with flowers on earth.

Obama Talks to Auto-Worker's Union [10w]
"We shall increase auto-industry employment
by using live crash-test dummies.

Shhh [10w]
"Children, please be as silent as the 'g' in
'Enough!

Clairol: Does she or doesn't she...
...take it up the ass.

Comfort Zone
Your comfort zone has a clock on it,
ticking off until it becomes your death zone.

Spoiled [10w]
When a woman gets used to an industrial quality pneumatic drill,
I seriously doubt if she'll use a vibrator again.

Rocks for Brains
The more rocks a man has for a brain,
the more rocks they'll throw when you complain.

Sunset at Seminyak
Barefoot, the well heeled expats drift
from the beach into mauve chaise lounges
wearing trendy Thai fisherman pants
and billowing knock-off Armani linens.
They dis the local touts, piss and moan
about the tawdry and 'so yesterday'.
Devout Splenglerians, they spout
the rise and fall of fashion
every fucking fifteen minutes.
Exhaling the outlaw plumes of
Hoyo de Monterrey Churchills,
they drown in their Courvoisier
and Hennessey Privilege
as the unfashionable sun
plunges divinely into the Bali Strait
unnoticed.

The hourglass had ruptured
Spewing forth the sands of time
Burying past in present
Leaving future without rhyme

The children had stopped crying,
Their tears no longer tended
They sang sad songs of silence
All time had been suspended

The howling winds subsided
The sun no longer beamed
All rays of hope had ended
Man had not been redeemed

Alone the void had quivered
Embracing its despair
Sighing with hope
Seething with new care

The children's tears were tended
The hourglass had mended

Tree [10w]
The knots in wood are a trees protests
growing up.

The Life and Death of Socially Networked Lemmings [20w]
When lemmings
jump
off
a
cliff,
it
tweets
its
suicide
note,
then
Instagrams
a
selfie
to
Facebook
on
its
iPhone.

Valuable [10w]
Most valuable thing in your wallett is your kid's picture.

Sun vs. Moon [10w]
The moon's just a reflection of the sun's big ego.

Pets in the Afterlife [10w]
All dogs go to heaven;
all iguanas go to hell.

Once you can conceive love has an end,
it's ended.

Not Them Aliens [10w]
God chose man
as His lens and mirror
of creation.

Phases of the Love Cloud
Week 1: A cloud of feelings form around you.

Week 2: It has the texture of cotton candy with an implied sweetness and suggestion of sensuality.

Week 3: It lightens to a blinding brightness, as if barely covering the sun.

Week 4: The texture become less permeable and hardens like sugar caramelized when making leche flan on too high a fire.

Week 5: The cloud darkens gradually and lightning blinks
intermittently like a firefly convention in Georgia.

Week 6: There's an eerie silence gathering around the cloud
which is growing way out of proportion.

Week 8: 200 MPH winds hit, torrential rains
and the roof comes off the house.

Week 10: There's not a cloud in the sky. The sun appears.

Weeks11-25: Inside you there's a storm of tears
that makes Noah's flood look a kiddie-pool.

Week 26: A new cloud of feelings form around you...

Primer of Love [Lesson 40]
Always remember that you are absolutely unique.
Just like everyone else.
~ Margaret Mead

Lesson 40) Lovingly celebrate your partner's peculiarities.

You were brought up by two totally different dysfunctional families. No two sets of alcoholic parents are alike. You each come with your own tics, tacs and oddities. Lovingly accept these differences as aspects of your lover's uniqueness. An aspect is just the other side of the coin of some quality you already love about them. For instance is he barks whenever he urinates, this is simply an aspect of his need to guard over you and protect you from own worst enemy * yourself. If she yells out the name of a previous lover during an orgasm, this is just another aspect ofah, fuck it! * put the down pillow on her sorry face and suffocate the bitch.

Soulmate [10w]
When you meet your soulmate,
God's walked into the room.

Rain
To be umbrella'd in the rain is to be singing,
surrounded by nature and at once untouched,
shielded against the force of gales andhailstorms
in my dry alcove of sentience and peace.

But past the amphitheater of raindrops
tree trunks purple against the throttling moss,
marbling into green and grey lichens.
Leaves of grass crouch in a lowered stance, then
stand on end like the hairs of a frightened dog.
The musty smell of earth hangs in the gallows,
emanating decay into the granite, winter light.
Clouds bewail the earth in dogged tears.
Who said there was consolation in rain?

My umbrella is lost in a sudden gust,
leaving me wet, shivering, exposed --
reminding me, once again,
why I hate funerals.
They remind me of what I am
and to what I will return.

First Memories
Without language we cannot create distinct memories,
that's why the first year-and-a-half of my life is still a blank,
other than a lingering vague premonition I owed
someone something.

Razor Sharp
God gave me a razor sharp mind
and it would be sin for me not to use it
to cut the throats of my enemies.

Self vs. Selfish [10w]
There's no such thing as being selfish when you're alone.

Radha Krishna
Krishna,
Svayam Bhagavan,
Avatar of Vishnu,
play your flute for me
beneath this parasol of stars,
diadems bejeweling your eternal crown,
and I will dance for you a joyous dance.

Svayam Bhagavan,
Avatar of Vishnu,
visit your consort, Radha,
mantled in the black of night,
the cow-herd girl who has stolen your heart,
and now the gopi has become the guru
and awaits her lover with open arms.

Svayam Bhagavan,
Avatar of Vishnu,
stay the night,
and learn the love of Radha,shakti,
her wifely love, the svakaya-rasa,
her spiritual love, the parakiya-rasa,
for immortality is a curse without both of these.

Svayam Bhagavan,
Avatar of Vishnu,
return to heaven now
for the cock has crowed
and yet you linger, lazy in Radha's bed.
Even endless love must seek and end
to repeat the joy of new beginnings.
Return, Krishna, I beseech you,
for my feet are weary of the dance
and I have fields to plow and rice to plant.

Sorry, it's so long since I've been in a meaningful relationship,
I've forgetten who is suppose to piss on whom?

The Terminal
I pace the Greyhound waiting room,
that famished void on the outskirts of Reno
between the Atavans and Ambiens,
filled with the stench of the homeless and
the suicide ticking of attoseconds.
It is a zombie casino with no clocks
partitioned with great walls of glass.
On the other side of the glass I see people
take tokens from Big Gulp sized cups
and feed them into the mute ears of bandits.
They are the gamblers whose tokens
are redeemed into winnings. They breathe
without conscious effort and board their buses.
On my side of the glass there are
no gamblers, no buses, no exits.
There are just Dixie cups of meds
to transport me through REMless dreams
to awaken another day
in the same terminal
waiting and breathing,
breathing and waiting
for the glass to shatter
so I may redeem
my fist full of tokens.

Poetry as Symphony [10w]
Mind is orchestra,
words are instruments,
the poem,
a symphony.

Alone Together
I want us to be together,
but I want to stay connected.
I want your attention,
but I want to manage mine,
opting in and opting out,
sponging up what's relevant,
discarding the expendable.
I can't get enough of you,
not too close, not too far,
at a manageable distance,
at a convenient time.
Let me tell you how much I loveyou,
let me count the ways,
by text, by email, by post, by Tweet.
If I've said too much
I can edit.
If I've show myself too vulnerable
I can delete.
If I'm at a loss for words
I can Google.
Come to think of it,
I'd much rather text than talk.
Come to think of it
you're dispensable too.
I just need the illusion of love,
without all its messy demands,
without its unpredictability,
without the risk.
I just need Facebook
because nothing beats being
alone
together.

For our Dead Moms, Straight from the Heart
Mom,
You held my hand in times of need,
Whatever the occasion.
Now,
Forever shall your heart be held in mine,
To balance the equation.

Show Up [10w]
I've waited for you all my life ~
show up already!

Pain vs. Shit
Pain is like shit.
If you don't let it out,
eventually you're gonna explode ~
and leave splatter everywhere.

Primer of Love [Lesson 30]
I didn't fall in love of course
it's never up to you
but she was walking back and forth
and i was passing through
~ Leonard Cohen, Book of Longing

Lesson 30) First fall in love, then grow in love,
then harvest in love.

The falling is the chemistry, the growing is the botany and the harvesting is the phenomenology of love. A couple in love is always planting seeds and nurturing them with tears and laughter. When their old they have this prickly bush in the garage they have no fucking idea what to do with. Really, they harvest a life well spent.

ღ ღ ღ

South Africa's Revolution
The Boers knew the ire that the fire felt
as it moved svelte like a snake through the veldt.
Nothing concerned had been left unturned
as the baas grasslands burned and burned
and burned.

Piss-Off Poets [10w]
Poets must tamper with their language to piss-off and provoke.

Red Cross: The greatest tragedy is indifference...
...including indifference to our CEO's $600K salary
which would make Clara Barton turn in her grave.

Seasons Haiku
Summer sleeps cozy
spooning Spring. Winter needs
a blanket of snow.

Poems Should Speak [10w]
Poems should speak to you, for you,
not around you.

The Romance of Dance [10w]
It takes a dozen to fandango,
just two to tango.

The Dead Should Not Go Uncuddled
"Should you die and I persist,
I insist I be buried in an empty coffin
next to yours,
so you can keep it warm for me.

Jesus Christ, Is That A Puppet? [10w]
The Bible performed entirely by puppets would produce more converts.

Premature Praise [10w]
It's too early to give praise
if they still breathe.

Recycling [10w]
Recycling's good for the planet and turning shit into lawyers.

Forgotten [10w]
There's no greater slur of memory than to be forgotten.

Please Don't Follow Me [10w]
Fellow Poets ~
please don't follow me because I follow you!

Rewrite☷Rewrite [10w]
Happiness writes new memories;
New losses rewrite over old ones.

Molten Hearts
I'll chase you
into the sun,
where our
waxen wings
shall melt,
and we two
become one.

Tibet's Sky Burial
In Tibet cold makes it hard to pierce the earth
and wood, like air, is rare,
Death is no occasion for woe, but mirth -
So you're cut up into tiny tidbits bare.
They leave you chopped up upon a mountaintop,
your corpse ambrosial alms for the circling birds.
You ate crow all your life, now the crow eats you.

In Tibet, everything comes full circle,
our lives, our deaths, our words.

Muse [10w]
Poetry's a collaboration with your muse.
Silence!
Let her speak.

Sexperts [10w]
Lovers should become world experts on what pleases their partner.

Hey Diddle Diddle
You can diddle with mystery or jerk off in the unknown,
but when you're screwing with hard facts,
one of you are going to get fucked.

Population Explosion [10w]
The world will soon have more live people than dead.

The Messiness of Suicide [10w]
After you shoot yourself,
you are going to shit yourself.

New [10w] + {Couplet}
Poetry is fashion, its new arrivals
are simply just revivals.

Non-Conformity
The path of non-conformity
never takes the shortest distance between two points.
It's convoluted like our prefrontal cortex.

Poets
A poet is like a plant.
He can get by with
a little water
and a bit of light to grow ~
but a true poet needs
to be submerged in shit
for half his life
and surrounded by darkness
the other half
for his poetry
to truly flower.

Grandma's Advice on Picnics
Not every day is going to be a picnic,
because there are ants everywhere you go ~
and a few of them are even insects.

American Jihad
I've heard the lullabies of celestial spheres,
the songs of clouds which falls like tears,
sang paeans of praise to anthem skies,
in soulful strains of knee-jerk lies.

I've shot children clutching Kalashnikovs,
gunned down women tossing molotovs;
'Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: "In God is our trust."'

Now the dead have camped out in my dreams,
each night I listen to their screams,
I count the lullaby stars, one-by-one,
while under my pillow I keep a gun.

Horticulture ]10w]
I am an advocate of horticulture and higher-education for sluts.

The Karmic Philharmonic of Chesapeake Bay [10w]
The Philharmonic's evil second violin
reincarnated as a fiddler crab.

The Lucky Ones
I wonder how much
of every 'I love you' ever spoken
is a sincere'I love you',
or more honestly,
"I desperately don't want to be alone.