Poetry Showcase from Igor Goldkind

Breathless

Take a deep breath and hold it.
Hold it.  Hold it.
Keep holding it.
Continue holding it
Hold it  until you have used everything you have taken in.
Everything you know, everything you’ve seen, everything you hold precious and dear.
Keep holding it all in. 
Until you are exhausted.
Until you are out of breath and desperately need to take another one
But don’t.
Gasp before you pass out.
Now you are Breathless.

If you don’t breath, you die.
If you hold your breath, you will pass out before you die.
If a man presses his knee against your neck, you will die.
Your body makes decisions your mind cannot over rule.
Between your private inner world and the cold, indifferent outer world…
Lies the breath.
You draw the air outside you into your deepest, inner self.
Then you release it, if you’re permitted to, back into the world.

Who’s breath is it now?

Is it your breath, you draw in?
Or the world’s breath, you let out?
Who are you and where are the boundaries of yourself?
That separate yourself from yourself?
In your breath, 
In the breath you share with the world, 
The world that includes you, that is you.
All around you, without you and within you.
The breath traverses the universe and your soul, 
Without borders, without visas, without armed guards checking your identity.

Hold your breath.
In anticipation.
In anticipation of your death.
In anticipation of your arrival in the world.
in anticipation of the catastrophe that awaits you,
You call life.
Hold your breath until you can’t hold it  anymore
Now you are Breathless.

This album, this sequence of sound is a collaboration between my good friends Frederic, Jair and Katarina and my self.  It is a kaleidoscope of images, of sounds, of beats, of words.  Of intakes of breath, of exhalations, declarations, lamentations and celebrations.  
Of sounds, images and words colluding to find meaning.
Between breaths.  
Between beats.
Between  small events and catastrophes.
Between the moments of our life 
Where we can all meet 
Alone and Breathless.

When we cannot make love instead of war, we make art.

Have  fun. 

https://igorgoldkindpoet.com/2022/03/28/sunflower-seeds-inside-your-pockets/

Blank Child

Partly you, partly me, partly every child that's come to be.
The pain and suffering we adults have caused him, 
Reaches far beyond his 
Anonymity. 
Look at his blank stare
Look at his blank stare
Look at his blank stare.
Look at the blood on his matted hair.
His eyes are emptied of his childhood world.
What was stolen from him
The rest of us shared.

Paper Bag

I am a paper bag, I am.
I’m not the smart one,
I’m not the successful one
I’m not the tall one who always won and
Then died.
I am a paper bag.
I’m only as good as what I can carry.

I am a paper bag,
I’m not plastic, not I.
I am paper: rough, brown and thin
I’m not waterproof, you know.
And I can’t hold any liquids or gases within.
I only have energy for the stuff that really matters.
You know,
I’m a paper bag.
I’m only as good as what I can carry.

I am a paper bag.
Wrinkled and used and often abused
Thrown on the floor.
Buried deep inside your drawers.
I am a paper bag.
That sometimes falls apart.
I’m only as good as what I can carry.

Nobody Talks to me Anymore

Today was every other day.
My boss says, 
"Hey Joe, where you going with that staple gun in your hand?"
I draw a blank on my face and turn to face his.
"You don't really know, do you, Joe? 
You don't know where you're going.
You don't really know who you are.
You don't know much of anything anymore,
Do you now, Joe?"

Then he laughs at me 
In front of everybody
He laughs and points at
What everybody but me can see.
And everybody laughs and they laugh and they laugh
But nobody talks to me anymore.
My boss don’t talk to me anymore.
My neighbors don’t talk to me anymore.
My doctor don’t talk to me anymore.
My mother don’t talk to me anymore.
My father don’t talk to me because 
He's long since gone
Flown far away from the words to this song.

I call my girlfriend up on the telephone
She says, "Joe, I'm not your girlfriend anymore"
And hangs up the phone.
Nobody talks to me anymore.

I call my doctor on the telephone
He says, "hello, is there anybody there"?
I say, "it's me, Joe, doctor help me, nobody talks to me anymore!"
My doctor coughs and hangs up the phone.
Nobody talks to me anymore.

I call on my priest in the church down the road
I say "Hello, Father? my Father, is that really you?"
"Please tell me, dear Father, what should I do?"
My priest says "Joe, God don't love you anymore"
And throws me out through God's front door.
Even God don't talk to me anymore.

So, I go down to a bar to have a little swim.
There's a bar stool there where the Xmas tree should have been.
The bartender looks at me,
But he doesn't say a word.
I hold up two fingers and point at the sky
So he pours me a double, ten-year-old rye.

Which I toss down and motion for another 
While calling him "my brother".
The bartender stares at my face.
As silent as the stone in his wall.
Nobody talks to me anymore.

On the street, the headlights blind my blinking eyes.
Strangers push past me, some I know, most I despise.
A cop car pulls up and flashes his bright light on me
The cop points his flashlight in my eyes so that I can't see.
There's nothing he or I need to say.
He won't arrest me.
It just ain't worth his time to talk to me anymore.

A ghost walks up and stares into my face.
He doesn't say a word; just hangs there in space
Instead, he spins ribbons of colored lights 
Inside my head.
There's no knowing with ghosts no more 
The dead don't even talk to me anymore.

Suddenly I see an explosion of lights
There's trumpets and harps and angels in sight
A liquor store, neon vision of light 
Promises me spirits of salvation and delight
If I just step inside.
While next door, a gun store slowly cracks open its door . . .

I am my father and my mother's son and 
I’ve never before bought me a gun.
But nobody, nobody talks to me anymore.

Insomniac Awareness

We who are hiding in our second bedrooms,
Licking the silver from the backs of our screens,
Are living in a different time zone
Of Insomniac Awareness

Sometimes two, sometimes three, sometimes four or more
Lives are lived and lost each night.
In our rooms, by ourselves
Sitting precariously at the edge of our beds.

This is our legacy 
The lasting perpetuity of our sensory species:
The glow that contests the light that once shone from our eyes,
Right up to the surface of our understanding.

What is not yet known.
Or what was known and long since forgotten.
Dances across the screen you stare into.
Tripping over your coded memories; in Real Time.

Who are you reading this?
Do you know
What perturbs your sleep-walk into the night?
Or are you merely waiting for the screen to pull you through.

Into your own quiet world,
Where things that count never change.
And no one is dreaming you, but your mother
Who has left you now for another child.

The Numbers Game

In the end, it was the numbers that did us in.
They lined us up into military rows
And assigned us all numbers
One after one after one after one after one….
How many, nobody knows.
You see, it’s a numbers game
It’s all the same
You’re not to blame,
You’re not your name
You’re your numbers.
Let me explain how it’s done,
And how this game can never be won.

See, there are good numbers and bad numbers
High numbers and sad numbers.
Sometimes high numbers are good and low numbers are bad.
And sometimes low numbers are good and high numbers are sad.
It all depends on who is doing the counting.
It’s not you or me
Nor the numbers either.
They don’t know that they’re just numbers after all; although,
The numbers do count on each other.
Just not you or me

Because we are never free
Of Big Numbers and small numbers,
Negative numbers and imaginary numbers,
You see, it’s a numbers game.
It’s all the same
You’re not to blame,
You’re not your name
You’re your numbers.
Let me explain
How it’s done.
And how this game can never be won

Prisoner number…
Credit Score number
GPA number
SAT Number
Zip code number
Blood pressure number
Heart rate number
DOB & TOD numbers
House number
Gas number
Phone number
Electricity number
Room number
Water number
Dog tags number
Social Security number
Bank account number
Table number
Sibling number
Temperature number
Flight number
Apartment number
License number
Vehicle registration number
Alcohol level number
Height, weight and age get numbers

I hear you scream:
“I’m not a number, I’m a human being!!”
Sure you are,
Now take a number.
It’s for your own protection
There’s safety in numbers.

Numbers can answer all of your questions:
How far, how long, how deep, how high, how many,
How often?
Just not ‘how come’?
Anyone can count,
But you can’t count on anyone.
See, it’s a numbers game
That can’t be won
It’s a numbers game
It’s just how it’s done.
It’s all the same.
You’re not to blame
You’re not insane!
You’re not your name
You’re your numbers.
Now count to ten
And start all over again.

Wolfpack Contributor: Igor Goldkind  

A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Igor Goldkind

By davidlonan1

David writes poetry, short stories, and writings that'll make you think or laugh, provoking you to examine images in your mind. To submit poetry, photography, art, please send to feversofthemind@gmail.com. Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof Facebook: DavidLONan1

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