Tag Archives: Politics

Birthday

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By Dana Janine Diamond

 

Echo, play Joni Mitchell

and I’m singing along

back in my college dorm

she cheered my love

nursed my heartbreak

I’m on my green circles couch

in my family room

with my cat and dog

waiting for

the slight scratch of the needle

as it kisses the album

listening to the music

every day after school

I barely remember what I learned

back then

but I know every song I listened to

the lyrics, oh the lyrics

they have filled my mind

for a lifetime

I ran outside in the morning

danced in the afternoon

in my living room

where my family gathered

to host book clubs

and discuss liberal politics,

my french piano in the corner

my brother played guitar

with his friends

I pontificated

about passing the ERA

knocked on doors

won debates

still, still…

gossiped on the phone

for hours with girlfriends

twisting the cord round

and round

and poetry, always poetry

I read Catcher in the Rye

in elementary school

and asked my teacher

in all innocence

what a boner was

he turned bright red

(he’s a bestselling author now

so he turned out okay)

my life is a series

of connections

the night I lost

my virginity in college

I took a long, late night walk

under the stars

in the moonlight

and the first person I saw,

told, was JD Salinger’s daughter

she congratulated me

it all makes sense

in retrospect

of course the feckless

curly, red-haired boy

broke my heart

he wanted to be a chiropractor

to this day I don’t really trust chiropractors

I loved my twenties

married the love of my life

in secret

in a pinky-peach, soft Betsy Johnson dress

he’s back running Greece now

but we talked and kissed

for hours and hours

in Village cafes

for years

I owned the streets of NY

if you ever lived there

you know what I mean

riding in limousines

to deliver champagne

gifts from Steve and Ian

thanks for keeping

them out of jail

we danced and decorated

and celebrated

and I loved Hilly

how not to,

edited stories at MS.

Gloria was luminous

God, my twenties were fun

but then the poetry called

I needed to understand

the mysteries

of this world,

walked that path

with my loyalty

to a fault

escaped, but not before

bruises on my face

on my soul

I look back and wonder

how did I endure that life?

And yet leaving religion

took all of my courage

and then some

I’ve been molested, raped, punched

spat on (fuck you Rabbi ;))

but my glowing spirit

outshines all you

could ever do

because I’m wild and precious

I’m a colorful garden

still growing

my magnificent rose

she is everything

I leave my words as rose petals

my loving gift to you

 

COPYRIGHT 2019 Dana Janine Diamond ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. See Copyright Notice pertaining tothejewishpoetess.wordpress.com

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Thanksgiving Daze

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By Dana Janine Diamond

We tripped the light
fantastic
pain pooling at our feet
we felt the force
of a waterfall
dancing wildly
to its own beat
a rhythm we thought
was gone
is bulging out
of an angry hat
nothing sits below it
an emptiness
of the most
profound sort
we watch images reflected
in gold towers
and hyped-up billboards
captured by
rear view mirrors
as we drive through
our towns
we’ve lost our minds
and hearts,
our souls
dived off a ledge
into shallow waters ambivalent
to hold our refuse,
what has become
of our great endeavor
we are battling
an ugly history
passing for glory
this year some
of us are wide awake
others clinging tightly
to a long forgotten dream
we fight to the bitter end
or learn to begin again
I’ve spent too many
holidays in hospitals
today I’m free
yet not
as we celebrate
our gratitude
partake in a harvest repast
at last
love limps to the table
battle worn and a bit broken
from the hate spewing about
as outside a cranked up
fire hydrant
ruins adult shoes in its path
delighting kids and dogs
emitting a raucous laughter
we can’t get the same water
back in
we’ll need a wider vision
it’s so hard to sink
this low
as a people, as a nation
we left paradise long ago
and this burden feels
too heavy
but rise we must
of that I am hopefully
certain
faith takes over
when reason has left
us alone
we keel and mourn
and cry out a silent
howl
we embrace
fix our gaze on
the prophets and seers
the poets and the singers
the leaves that turn our skies aglow
even as their roots
are ever deep
it is up to us
to offer out our hands
as the homeless in the streets
a sign, a day to remember
we need each other
we need each other

COPYRIGHT 2016 Dana Janine Diamond ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. See Copyright Notice pertaining to thejewishpoetess.wordpress.com

Remembrance days

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By Dana Janine Diamond

We are in a daze
rhetoric swirling
to a crescendo
storm tossing all
we would rather forget
in my path
like a lingering scent
in the air that reminds
me, of something beautiful
and precious, perhaps an orange tree,
only irreconcilable,
in many languages
oranges are referred to as apples
with a different color
pommes like poems
in the palm of my hands
and this brings 
a smile to my lips
but there is no time
to dally in harvest
season, we must gather in
our memories
prepare for the spiritual
feast, if there is refuse
in heaps
like malodorous haystacks
we will be forced
to confront them
search for the proverbial
needle, and at last
sew a sweater for protection
against the impending cold winds
or a quixiotic quilt
vestiges of luminous
days
when we didn’t ask
what you reaped
or why you hovered
silently by
betraying my trust
losing all traces
of luster and grace
you seemed to descend
like a sunset leaving
merely a faint glimmer
of light
on the edge of awe
the world
is different now
with you gone


COPYRIGHT 2016 Dana Janine Diamond ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. See Copyright Notice pertaining to thejewishpoetess.wordpress.com

Backfired

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911-Memorial-WTC-Footprint

by Dana Janine Diamond

 

 

Oh, no, you have not been a blessing

to man or woman kind,

to my kind

the Jew

you want to annihilate

with your policies, deeds,

words that wish

to exterminate

the truth

of the everlasting, eternal Lord-driven people.

 

It’s been twelve years, four months, and one day

I remember

the smoke and screams

coming out of my television,

over and over and over

again.

 

My ex-husband’s ex-wife called

when I was still married

to tell me urgently

turn it on, to see

the death and destruction

of such shocking proportions

it had to be…

the abyss, the void

 

I hear their hearts beating in fear

I hear the beating flame of their hearts,

I hear the flames beating against their hearts,

I hear their hearts exploding into flames.

 

Living next-door to

the Simon Wiesenthal Museum

we thought we could be,

we thought we were next.

 

And though, here we are

some twelve years, four months, and one day

later,

the world forgets.

 

I was admitted to Cedars-Sinai

a day later

for dehydration

(who could get enough water

when too many stars

rained down from the sky?)

The hospital halls

were stretched with stretchers

filled with vast wells of

pregnant women in Los Angeles

too thirsty to give birth,

mourning, mourning for New York.

 

Oh, how I long for Marjorie

and her, my innocence.

 

And so I see you build

your lies, carefully placed,

penned, stroked,

as bearded commentary

in certain circles

or blatantly shouted

from the noxious, mad

lines in your mind

and they all fall in line

to snap their fingers

as in days of old

before I was born, anyway.

 

Take your Jew hating, Israel hating, lying lines

Take your art, your poems, your songs, your dance

Take your mayoral aspirations and misappropriation

of both busboys

and poets

Take your pseudo-liberal, new, cool, fake

Take your readings cum auto-de-fe’s

Take your self-proclaimed, self-named blessing,

Take your age-old misogyny and hate

(Oh, are we not supposed to talk about that when you’re the man?)

and, well,

shove it into the ground.

 

You abandoned your children.

You abandoned your soul

and all those who read you

should ask themselves

how much hatred of self

are they willing to put up with?

 

I am a Jewish woman,

I love Israel,

I love my people,

we are the definition

of good people

we are the

people of the book,

we are the writers of poems alive throughout time,

read today across the world,

as we pray for peace,

we are the hope.

 

And today, my daughter lives, writes, sings.

 

 

Written upon the demise of a poet…

COPYRIGHT 2014 Dana Janine Diamond  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. See Copyright Notice pertaining to thejewishpoetess.wordpress.com