Ygdrasil: A Journal of the Poetic Arts -- November 2002

YGDRASIL: A Journal of the Poetic Arts

November 2002

Editor: Klaus J. Gerken
Production Editor: Pedro Sena
European Editor: Moshe Benarroch
Contributing Editors: Martin Zurla; Rita Stilli; Michael Collings; Jack R. Wesdorp

ISSN 1480-6401

   The Teachings Of Baraka
   I am Baraka
   I read your heart
   when you read my words
   I am Baraka
   wherever there is light
   there I am
   wherever there is war
   there I am not.
   I am Baraka
   I light your way
   when you trust me
   and lead your way
   when you look for me
   I live in your soul
   since the day 
   your soul was born
   before you were body
   before you were sand.
   I am Baraka
   I am blessing
   and the stopping of blessing
   I am the light that is too much
   to see, when blindness looms in
   I dim, when darkness circles 
   I am light
   I am Baraka
   I don't come from the past
   and I don't seek the future
   I am Baraka
   I am not
   the present
   Baraka is good for you
   you can spread the word
   or spread it on your skin
   Baraka is light on your fears
   I am Baraka
   I am good for you
   I am free for you
   all you have to do
   is touch me with your thoughts
   and I come to you
   wherever you fight
   I am Baraka
   a multinational industry
   I have the rays you need
   the money you will never need
   I have the papers on which
   you will never write
   I have the job of your life
   the partner you have been looking for
   when you open your arms to me
   I am there
   I am there forever

   Where there is war
   Baraka is not
   Where there is greed
   Baraka is not
   Baraka is
   Baraka is not
   is the El Shadday
   the El who said enough
   because the world was too much
   I stop when you can't handle me
   when too much is too much

   When I see the innocent child
   I cry
   from happiness
   When I see the decaying old man
   whose skin has been eaten
   by greediness
   I laugh
   from sadness
   The world was not meant for decay
   That's why I have entered the word
   will create
   lights without shadows
   shadows that warm the sun
   a moon as yellow
   as the deepest ocean
   is silence
   is gold.
   Baraka supports all the minorities in the world,
   Baraka is forever a minority,
   Baraka is for the Jews, the Palestinians, Indians,
   the Amazighs, The Basques, the Galicians,
   the Kurds, the Armenians
   wherever a child cries for his lost home
   you will find Baraka
   wherever someone can't speak his own words
   that's where Baraka prays
   wherever there are lost poets
   Baraka is,
   wherever the homeless lives
   Baraka is,
   Think of me as the foam of the wave
   A wave can caress the newborn
   A wave can bury a city.

   I am Baraka
   I live in your kitchens
   when the food is made with love
   you will not be strangled by food
   I live in your apples
   and in your rice
   When you end your meal
   say Baraka
   and say it again
   and your material food
   will become spiritual guidance.
   Baraka is not in your guns
   and not in your tanks
   and no matter how much you lie
   you can't put Baraka
   in your weapons
   Baraka is too small and too big
   to be there.
   Where there is pain
   there is longing
   and there Baraka is
   But Baraka prefers to be
   where there is joy
   and there is life
   where there is love from light
   and not love from shadows
   is there with you
   at your darkest hour
   when no friend
   wants to see you
   when your love has left you
   Baraka caresses you.

   Baraka is simple
   as truth should be simple
   where people tell you
   that their truth is so complex 
   that you cannot understand it
   Baraka is not present
   Because Baraka is clear water
   no mud will show you the deepness of the ocean
   and no cloud can make you see the sun
   Baraka is simplicity
   when you hear something
   and you know
   deep inside you
   that what you hear is true
   then that is Baraka.
   I am Baraka
   when you eat I clean your table
   when your table is empty
   I bring you food.
   I am Baraka
   I teach you
   what you already know
   that death is impossible
   our deeds create it
   that life is infinite
   our deeds stop it
   that there is a flow of life
   we cannot stop.
   I am Baraka
   I break
   all that stops my way
   to freedom
   I despise
   those who sell
   their freedom
   for lentils
   I am Baraka
   my country
   I am Baraka
   I play the piano
   like a drunk
   but it sounds like Mozart
   When you believe in keys
   all the doors open.
   When Baraka dies
   Baraka resurrects
   Baraka lives in death
   Baraka dies in Life
   Nothing can be greener
   than the decay
   and the dying
   of the light.
   Remember the neighbor who helped you
   when most needed
   there I was
   Baraka lives when people talk
   Baraka laughs when people love
   Baraka disappears when there is a fight
   He waits in a cave
   until the clouds 
   start to rain.
   When Baraka is a painter
   he paints 
   only clouds
   clouds change all the time
   they have faces and are unknown
   they have fingerprints
   and the white
   changes every second
   Baraka changes like a cloud.
   Baraka is Jimi Hendrix
   Janis Joplin, Van Gogh, John Coltrane,
   Gram Parsons, Jim Morrison,
   Townes Van Zandt, Lounes Matoub
   Baraka lives in them
   and their art
   Say Baraka
   repeat again Baraka
   again and again
   sing Baraka
   pray Baraka
   dance Baraka
   again and again
   a thousand times
   write Baraka
   Until you see the bottom of the ocean
   the top of the sky
   Baraka Baraka
   Always forgive
   Never forget
   All that is buried
   comes back
   new words
   for old atrocities
   Old words
   for the new oppression.
   If you are afraid of death
   it is because you are alive
   The dead are not afraid of death.
   Baraka is not god nor human
   Baraka is not substance
   Baraka is not nothing
   Baraka says:
   The woman 
   in me 
   one day be
   the man who can
   with her.
   I can clean the ocean
   from its salt
   I can stop the rain
   and the tears
   I can destroy the waves
   I am one
   in my oneness
   one in my
   one in my
   There is no end
   to my end.
   99 steps lead to the door
   the key is 66 times
   than the 
   in which
   an old man still alive
   open this door
   but no one hears him
   the cemetery is deserted
   No one hears him
   except the black ant
   on the black stone
   in the black night.
   You've lost me
   said my friend
   I don't know
   what you are talking about
   It is
   I says
   because I am lost
   but it is also
   and more so
   because you
   are lost.

   The lost man seeks solace
   in the hand of the master
   who is also lost
   in the mind of his master
   but the lost man
   believes in what he finds
   he needs a teacher
   he believes the teacher exists
   Baraka says
   there are no teachers
   the only teacher is Baraka
   and Baraka is you
   inside you
   outside you
   and the life
   you have never leaved.
   Many lives we live in one life
   but none the right one
   many lives we imagine
   should be ours 
   but none of them
   is the real one
   I have heard the eagle in the sky
   he says the same he said
   to our ancestors
   he says
   I am Baraka
   as you are Baraka
   I suck blood
   from dead bodies.
   Baraka does not write in languages
   he does not live in tongues
   not many and not one
   his poetry is the poetry of sound
   of words, not of language
   his poetry is the poetry of your words
   if you can read it
   you are Baraka 
   If you can't Baraka
   is not for you
   and Baraka urges you
   to seek
   another teacher
   for Baraka is not a teacher
   he is only Baraka.

   Baraka says:
   Don't ask me a question
   if you seek the answer within me
   ask the question
   only if you know the answer
   within you.

   Baraka is the great deceiver
   whenever you think 
   you are seeing him
   you are in front of the mirror
   when you think
   you've heard his voice
   he is in another planet
   whenever you think
   you understand what he said
   you are already mad enough
   to speak with horses
   ask questions
   from birds
   receive answers from trees
   everything on this planet
   is talking to you
   except Baraka
   Baraka is silence.
   When despair is everything in your life
   there is no more despair
   you can laugh at it all
   as if you were never born
   when everything is lost
   everything is won
   when you have nothing to lose
   you have won
   The sky and the sea, the air and the water
   is yours
   your naked body belongs to the wind
   it comes and goes
   and goes 
   and never
   comes back.
   Baraka is the teacher who cannot teach
   Baraka is the teacher
   who does not want to teach
   Baraka is blind
   Baraka is deaf
   Baraka is mute
   Don't follow Baraka
   he doesn't know where to go
   Baraka is the fences
   not the way
   Baraka is the wheel
   not the car
   If you follow Baraka
   you'll find yourself
   Don't trust yourself
   and trust the others
   even less
   Baraka is trust.

   Listen to the sound of the bird in the garden
   of the noisy big city
   he's trying to say something he knows
   his singing is not for beauty
   his singing is a message
   from ancient planets
   a message
   from forgotten gods
   a message
   from people
   who were and hadn't
   who weren't and won
   who lost and came back
   The sound of the bird is Baraka
   but Baraka is also the sound of the machines
   that dissipate the beauty of the bird.

   You have sinned my lord
   and we are all clean
   You have sinned my lord
   and no one can forgive you
   we are too busy
   asking for 
   your forgiveness
   We are man my lord
   human kind
   dusty dust, windy wind
   we are leaves in autumn
   we are the rays of the sun
   my lord my lord
   Baraka is forgiveness
   for sins never sinned
   Baraka is the flame and the ray
   the water that bleeds 
   the sound of the wind
   in a tornado
   the mud when the child walks
   the rain when the old man dies
   Baraka cries sometimes
   but not with tears
   he cries the history of the centuries
   Baraka cries the past
   Baraka cries years.

   My son my son
   who's your mother?
   your father's lost
   in crazy centuries
   looking for peace
   where there is only blood
   he looks at the skies
   and the skies
   are below the ground
   he looks at the sea
   but the fish
   are in the skies
   My son, my son
   why did you kill your father?
   why did your mother run away from you?
   My son, my son, you are now alone
   the loneliness of god
   has become your fate
   run from sea to sea
   from land to land
   running is your country and your family.

   Men eat cows/
   men raise cows
   and they always need more.
   Now imagine this/
   some other civilization
   lives from the soul of men
   a substance emitted
   by the death of people
   and they start raising up more people.
   Baraka says
   a man must be crazy
   to think this.
   Baraka is crazy.

   Baraka speaks with God
   when God sleeps
   he is afraid of God
   when God speaks
   He has asked God many questions
   the answers
   came back to him
   through the birds
   That's why
   won't speak
   with birds.
   Baraka says:
   Beware of words
   don't use the words
   love or truth
   you have seen 
   what others should 
   Don't say there is no love in this world
   for it might
   hit you
   when less 
   Baraka says:
   I write poetry
   because it is
   the closest thing
   doing nothing
   I am a poet
   because it
   is the closest thing
   to being no  one
   I am a poet
   I don't exist
   someone who must die
   cannot exist.

   Baraka says:
   I am not a wise man
   for wise men
   in the end of times
   don't write poems
   and don't even say a word
   their only wisdom left
   is silence
   Baraka knows the world
   is ill from too many words
   but he cant's help
   but add his own
   He is weak and ill
   when it comes to words.
   Baraka loves the sea
   but does not 
   trust the sea
   he knows that behind every wave
   lies a storm
   below every fish the memory
   of a shark
   Baraka knows
   a giant wave 
   bigger than the twin towers
   will one day erase his city
   but Baraka needs the sea
   as much as he needs the sun
   and air
   and poetry.

   The Jews were chosen by God
   to carry the stone
   of the father and the son
   from birth to grave
   from dusk to dawn
   and light the day
   with a match
   Jews were chosen
   because God is free
   to chose
   the last to be the first
   Baraka says:
   So are we,
   we can choose the chair
   in which we sit
   even if it has three legs.

   Baraka is the child
   beaten by his father
   Baraka is God
   when his people
   look the other way
   Baraka is not the child
   beating his sister
   nor God
   Baraka says:
   You cannot burn ashes twice
   that's why I don't see evil
   where there is light
   and that's why 
   I have closed the doors
   on Mephisto and his gang
   Once you know you are mortal
   you cannot be killed twice
   Be free and 
   the bottom of your heart.
   Baraka says:
   truth should be simple
   and clear
   clear as the blue
   in the skies
   in a day without clouds
   simple as the whiteness
   of the cloud
   in a day without skies
   When you hear it
   you will feel it is
   the truth
   when you see it
   your eyes
   should shine.
   Copyright (c) 2002 Moshe Benarroch



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  these poems, without the express written permission of the authors, is

  YGDRASIL: A Journal of the Poetic Arts - Copyright (c) 1993 - 2002 by 
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