It makes me physically ill to hear you’re sleeping with someone else.
Literally; physically ill.
I’ve spent the last few months quite alone in this new city,
Down and out, at the very moment when I needed you most.
Yes, I understand that I was the one who left you – but only physically.
To hear that you’ve moved on,
To hear that you’ve fallen for someone new,
To hear that he makes you happy,
That he makes you feel passion,
That he makes you feel anything keeps me up at night,
Tearing at my heart, eating at my mind,
Destroying me
like a hungry lion
Ravaging its lifeless prey.
I know that I should move on too,
I know that the image of you in my head,
The memories I keep,
The fantasy I’ve developed,
Is just that.
And inn a way, you’ve come to symbolize every comfort I left,
Everything I love,
And the idea of Home.
I should move forward,
Focus on the present,
Plan for the future,
But not dwell in the Past.
It hurts me to admit,
But save your youthful voice and giggling laugh on the phone,
All that is you, all that is us, is in the Past.
So we can stay friends,
If that’s what you want,
If that’s what I want,
If that’s what is best,
But I must find something new.
I must live my life here – in this new city,
In this new life,
That you are not a part of.
You will always hold a place in my heart,
A piece of my soul
Forever owned by, and aligned with, you.
All the things you taught me,
All the things I felt,
All the things we were together,
There is no question that the flame will never die out,
Because you were my first love,
The first time I felt passion,
The first time I was
As comfortable together
As I was alone,
The first time I touched Happiness, Maturity, Love, Understanding.
And if the circumstances are right again,
If the opportunity ever arises once more,
We may be together yet;
The Future Is Unwritten.
Like an amputee
A part of me has been unwillingly removed
Severed from my aching body.
And just like an amputee
The phantom pains keep me up at night.
And the realization of the lose more
Painful
Than the loss itself.
The memory of the limb
More useful
More holy
Than the limb itself.
The inability for reconciliation.
Time that marches ahead with
Two Solid Feet.
And the Limb
Who has found a new body
To attach to
Without remorse for the old.
Copyright Oren Peleg 2010
We forget that Independence is an unflattering trait
But an essential one nonetheless
Those truly Independent
Are those who don’t listen
Who realize that we are all
Nervous
Anxious
Frightened by failures and shame
Those truly Independent
Are those who don’t waiver
Who realize that life is full of
Failure
and Shame
Full of those steering you astray
Whether they mean to or not
We are truly Independent
When the words of others
Flow off us like mist
When the sharpened arrows of
Loved Ones
and Enemies alike
bounce off our skin
without drawing blood
or change
or reaction
We are all the Idiot
filled with
Sound and Fury
Signifying Nothing
Saying
Nothing
and those truly Independent
are those who don’t listen
Oren Peleg 2010
What is meant by changing the World
What is required of those who do
Is it conscious
Is it solitary
Is it active
Where lays the Passion
of Beauty and Art
Where hides the Quest
for glory and eternity
Does Immortality Stick
In words that evaporate
In sculptures that crumble
In knowledge that spreads
What is meant by
Each Plays His Part
I am depressed without you --
I want to get up and scream.
Who do I call?
Who do I touch?
How can I avoid wasting time?
You are the First answer
the Premier solution
to challenges of meaning
and of purpose.
I explode whimsically in your presence.
The COLOR of your SKIN
your HAIR
your EYES (eje)
are a miracle to
AWE
for eternity.
No one talks fish better.
No One
curls ideas into fanciful discoveries
or sarcastic yet heart-warming jokes
like you.
You are my support that never buckles.
You are my body that always embraces.
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
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
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
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.
