gershon hepner Poems

Born in barnyards, see how roosters strut,
searching for a hen that is a slut.
Wherever men are born they do not care
about most women till they see them bare.
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The universe is scripture of the Zen,
and while our inner feelings come and go,
its feelings form an archipelago
where on an island prison live most men.
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The universe is scripture of the Zen,
and while our inner feelings come and go,
its feelings form an archipelago
where on an island prison live most men.
...

Somewhere all explanations come
to an end, said Wittgenstein,
which may make you seem rather dumb,
since lack of them may undermine
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He said the great composer had confused
heroism with howlings:
Schubert,1819, thus abused,
like villains of Ms. Rowling’s,
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I’d like to take you to the isle
where I belong,
the region where I like to while
my time in song,
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Those who are apocalipstick,
preaching to the prim and proud,
must resent the heretic
from Gotham City, Maureen Dowd.
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Can’t you hear the screams that people all around
call silence, and ignore?
You could, perhaps, if you were open to their sound,
responding to their roar
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You won’t find in foxholes an atheist, and
in financial crises there are
no ideologues. Where you can’t understand
what happens when you lower the bar
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All the life that isn't mine
depresses me a lot. I wish
that I could like it more than wine
or French fries served without the fish.
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