Selected Poems

By Israel Loeb

Truth be Told

Truth be told
I’ve cried
I’ve cried for love
I’ve cried for hate
I’ve cried out for passion
I’ve cried out for the pure bliss of ignorance
I’ve cried out for the pure weight of knowledge
But I’ve never cried for all of them at once

Until today….

Truth be told
I’ve dreamed
I’ve dreamed for love
I’ve dreamed for hate
I’ve dreamed for passion
I’ve dreamed for the pure bliss of ignorance
I’ve dreamed for the pure weight of knowledge
But I’ve never dreamed for all of them at once

Until today….

Truth be told
I’ve prayed
I’ve prayed for love
I’ve prayed for hate
I’ve prayed for passion
I’ve prayed for the pure bliss of ignorance
I’ve prayed for the pure weight of knowledge
But I’ve never prayed for all of them at once

Until today….

Truth be told
Silence has never been my gift,
Words are all that I have,
Words are all that I can give.
Words, letters, sentences,
Stories
That form with their shape
The existence
Of happiness,
Of tenderness,
Of trust,
Of forgiveness

Of love…

This,
This labyrinth of emotions
I feel for you today
And wish for you forever.

The Plaintiff

My pen scratches the paper
In a furtive struggle,
My heart beats faster
As my puckered lips
Leave no time for my emotions
To form words.

Senseless sorrow
And sensible destruction,
Mindless cruelty
And calculated madness.

When will the world ask why?
When will the world sit up and cry?
When will the world stand up and not lie/lye?

I wish to cry
And tattoo my tears
In a wordless protest
For all the naked,
Pleading Eye
That look back at us
From the periphery
Of our conscious decisions

Are we not held responsible,
To answer,
To validate
The tears
Of youth
Imprisoned and sold
By the hollow promises of their elders?

Is not our every decision
Or lack there of
A conscious choice
To ignore,
To deny,
Our humanity
To let it die a little each day

Drop
By drop
By drop….
Until all that is left
Is the liquid nature of our hypocrisy?

Is not our silence guilt itself?

Is not our silence both judge and jury,
Directing,
Deciding,
And meting out justice
All without letting our feet touch the ground?

My frustrated voice
Is but a youthful cry,
A cry born in the depths of my soul
That wishes not to die a little each day.

My frustrated voice
Is but a croak of fury
Born in a silent gasp
That wishes to be heard.

Blissful ignorance
Is the defense of all of us
Who have never tried.

The belligerent satisfaction
Of us the wealthy
Is the very nail
That will seal our coffin.

Guilt?
Haaaa
Guilt, Innocence
Innocence, Guilt
Are not the domain of the plaintiff
But isn’t our shocking indifference evidence enough?

***

I am currently a student in the Masters program in Psychology at the NSSR. My goal is to get a Ph.D in Clinical Psychology. Humanity and the study of the human journey has always been my passion. My writing is an extension of that passion.