Life Is A Construction Site

LIFE IS A CONSTRUCTION SITE

Creative output is dry.

My mind feels like it

unravels

a little more each day.

I feel my body is falling apart

Never healthy, never strong.

My teeth rot in my mouth –

no matter what I do.

This feeling of stuck,

of gloom,

of clouds blocking the sun,

of moving / but not going forward,

can never disappear for too long.

So I waste another day

doing nothing,

breath in more smog

from the LA air,

turn up the happiest

music I can find,

and feel my chest

squeeze a little tighter.

Copyright 2010 Oren Peleg

Keep The Left Centered

KEEP THE LEFT CENTERED

Ordered pizza for late-night delivery –

Arrived at 12:15am.

I paused the movie.

The man at the door must have been at least 70.

His skin was heavy. He looked tired.

I wondered what sort of society would allow this.

I couldn’t stand to give a large tip and humiliate him more.

I finished the pizza and ate an orange.

The movie ended.

Copyright Oren Peleg 2010

Reflections of an Atheist

REFLECTIONS OF AN ATHEIST

An

Old Chevy

Turned the corner

before the light

Turned green

It was

THEN

that

I realized

there are two (2) kinds of

Atheists:

I. those who believe that some questions do not have answers

II. and those who do not worry themselves with the questions at all

I watched a movie that

played out

in Black-And-White

fra g me nt s

and wondered…

if I

D

R

E

A

M

enough

in the same room

will it leave a dust

?

Throughout the day

I get in the habit of

thinking

and

acting

too fast

to no real benefit –

all the while, thinking

I’m going crazy

and losing a certain

demeanor

in the process

Some days never change – no matter how hard we try

we are bound to waste them.

And if we count up all those days, how much shorter have we lived?

Copyright Oren Peleg 2010

While I Wait For The Messiah

WHILE I WAIT FOR THE MESSIAH

I wait for the Messiah and spend an hour in front of the TV.

My posture slack and hair greasy.

I watch the PBS Newshour and Charlie Rose from the night before.

The phone rings. A quick chat with a friend. We attempt to meet later, but I already know it will fall through.

The cat walks by, sniffs at my feet, and lays in the square of warm light by the glass door.

Talk of Haitian orphans adopted in Denver. I fast forward to a conversation about the banks.

Too big to fail. Too big to jail.

A tiny spider runs down the side wall.

Salinger is dead. The Messiah has already come for him.

I listen to jazz.

The ink in my pen runs out.

I am thirsty and have nothing to do.

Copyright 2010 Oren Peleg