Category Archives: writing

It’s been many a year

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it’s been a while since I posted anything.
mostly, I’ve been getting involved with university and writing and i’ve become wary of publishing things online.
i don’t know what i’m doing right now.
i know i want to be a poet, and a musician
and i want to make music,
and i have.
i guess i just really wish i could find love too.
and also maybe do a lot of gigs.
i know that if i perform more i’ll feel a heck of a lot better
and socializing!!!! i really love people. and kissing too.
that’s fun.
part of me wants to drop everything and turn gutter punk!!! but i don’t have the courage to do that…
i’ve befriended many gutter punks though. and i’ve grown to really like the punk stuff, and also metal stuff…but i’m still me.
I feel like I should let people know what i’m doing, even though i’m sure you haven’t really cared since I dropped off the map.

if you want to listen to some of my new music, go to http://www.zahavaliormusic.bandcamp.com it’s just me and my electric.
i fell for a dirty punk kid and its about that, and leaving LA, and all the wierd stuff that happened to me after April in 2018.
i’m still writing in that journal of mine a lot.
i became an Anais Nin fan. And a System of a Down fan too.
those are different.
I started listening to all types of cool new music.
and i left music conservatory to study creative writing.
i feel like this is pretty personal, but it’s wierd.
i’ve had this blog since i was in middle school!!!!
how insane is that??
now i’m almost twenty. TWENTY. WHAT THE HELL???
don’t feel twenty though. people think i’m OLDAH!
anyhow, if you want to listen to my shit and maybe buy some stuff, that’d be cool.

sayonara!! for now. probably.

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Last Breath

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my hands are frozen
on a pitch tar birch tree
the angled snow glass
is taking a look at me.

from up there
the sun nestles down.
from down here
the landscape daubs in shades of green,
the air rings like glockenspiel feathers,
i hear whispers of my aunt saying grace
and melodies that fade from me;
but all i see is the road.

my hands wanted to die lonely
though they needed to be held
rubbed together,
till the pink shown through like
burning coals.

i stretched out my hand
to the perimeter
close enough to see the warning sign
that said
dead end,
and even though my hands never knew
i sure did, and i walked through.

Copyright 2015 Golden Star Poetry

Abecedarian Love Poem to Myself

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After all I’m not deluding myself anymore, I’m no longer young.
But still, there you are,
Corner of my eye,
Dread of my senses
Evil image or imaginary
Fiendish sprite of mystery,
Girl who vanishes.

Haven’t you seen me, stretching out my hand to touch you?
I’m right here, you
Just can’t see me. I’d
Kiss the doubts away,
Let every worry fade into the shade of oblivion.
My only motive renders me relentless.
Nothing can stop me,
Only your recognition, a
Pearly smile from your mouth. I may

Question your existence,
Rebut every sound argument,
Stop myself from believing I could love you. But I can’t,
Try as I might, It’s
Useless to say you won’t get older and bolder, that you won’t need my
Vest to keep you
Warm in the winter, cool in the
Xanthous sunlight, in your hair,
You who cannot see me, my dear
Zahava

(and i still stay up at night don’t you?)

Copyright 2015 Golden Star Poetry

Phantom Limb

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in bed, i was

sick
sick
sick
sick
helath
sick

I thought I was immersed in health-that’s wrong-i was immersed in

sick
sick
sick
sick
sick

and I CRIED OUT! I WAS IMMERSED IN

five different blankets of sick, each the different stages of
obsessive illness:
attention,
classification,
concentration,
delirium,
insanity.

“you know what?”i smile,
“it’s not so bad.”
im licking my lips
and i notice the obvious
pounding chest, a bit accelerating
that lasts for minutes and comes back several times for several hours
and i think about the way i always end up seeing the world
through your eyes,¬†pretending you’re observing me
like a comforting  spy.
and anyhow-
sick, getting better, it’s all the same
it’s vital and i need it.
it’s like a pulse:
it’s running high
they say
get her to a doctor they say
there is no doctor for this disease they say,
you go to psychiatrists for that.
no for that they go out into the world
and they see that no one is really like the
people they make up in their minds
and then they get sick again
trying to forget the fact.

Copyright 2015 Golden Star Poetry

Pinching Words, Orders

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of course we tracked him down;
money was tight and there was no use in keeping him.
there were some hush hush stories but we
smoked them out,
we wanted him to be history.

some people lag behind us
we’re punctual, we don’t stop for them.
that’s saying a lot,
some people are pretty important;
sometimes i think we should make exceptions

bears remind me of us
we like to keep our guard down
when we find something suspect;
a bit sizable at first glance but nonetheless
effective

i personally
liked the way you dug him out
so easefully in the time assigned. lunch?
he said, and tipped his head.
she said no and smiled.

we like to keep things brief here
say hello, kiss, goodbye
off again to see your brothers in europe
your mother can watch from the television
(she’s safe in her livingroom now)

Copyright 2015 Golden Star Poetry

First Time Out with the Wolf

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baring your incisors
(animal)
makes sense to smile them at me
after devouring the spoils;
after it’s all over.

there was a pressure to be bad
overwhelming the senses,
invading me like
pariahs of taking
lords of waste,

and those flaring incisors
like a white traffic signal:
not like any human communicator.

then we sat on the edge of a
fallen tree trunk heaving
cold breaths
like endangered
truth;
hard to find.

summary:
things went along dreamily, absentmindedly
and then you flashed by before me and
left,
not intending to be remembered,
and in doing so became
unforgettable.

(running, she clenches her fist around him
but too late, he had already done it it is too late)

Copyright 2015 Golden Star Poetry

A Letter I Wrote to Sam Last Fall

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doe eye
wanted to find her way back to her camp on the hillside
she said yes, I’ll take your dollar
she said yes, I’ll make a holler

doe eye
made her way back to the hillside
she was worn out from being upset
with the neighbors, but she was blessed
she tiptoed on my wooden floorboards
and as they creaked,
she sauntered over to me

doe eye
was sleeping on the hillside
she was living by a ramshackle ten feet wide
but she rarely ever stepped inside
even if she needed to hide

doe eye-

make a prayer for the sweet no-county girl
make sure she’s heard
for she’s sweeter than me,

she has to be somewhere for others to see,
but that’s beside the point:

I wanna see her huddled up to you, sam
I wanna see her feeling like the pearl inside a clam
I wanna see her leave the cities inside her head
I want her to know it’s better to be alive than dead

(please, please sam
please please, please
sam please I’m tellin’ ya please sam
I’m pleadin’ please please sam)

Copyright 2015 Golden Star Poetry