If the aging poet (scoundrel) has lost all talent, but still continues to write and disgrace himself, then all the more so "Culture and Literature", which has lost all prestige and criticism, will continue to publish it. And if the supplement that was once a gatekeeper and today no longer interests anyone still continues to be printed, does anyone still care? In the absence of believers and credibility - only the ceremony will remain: thus literature has become a simulation of literature. The entire scene has aged and died - but no one told it. They still write, edit, publish, critique - but there is no literature. And everyone, like parrots, repeats the same songs and ideas they fell in love with in their youth. A sober look of an inflated poet - not clear about what. And if only these were "last poems", because these are poems after the last ones
Sober Poems
Wrap It Up You don't get angry
at such a child
because there's no one
to be angry at
It won't help how
you wrap it up
Parents say
the love is purer
no interests, expectations (as always)
one can see the moment, not the future
because there is no future
It won't help how
you wrap it up
The Reason (In Memory of Uncle Bernard) The cause of death
is not the cause of death
it was the disaster of his life
his children - only his money - burned
him in a respectable urn, even a corpse
wasn't there - a funeral after him
We (the rest of the family)
only suspected
we didn't tolerate
her, the divorcee, even during his marriage
They found him
after a week, dead in bed
never known
was the cause of death
Mami (Tragedy of the Sexes) Girls want boys
because of who they are
and want to be wanted
because of who they are
but
boys want girls
because of what they are
and want to be wanted
because of what they are
The One For you (the forgotten), I have no forgiveness
He who has many loves in his heart
is lonely
He who has one love in his heart
loves. Truth, not grace. And not forgiveness
There is nothing above time
and I am not commanded to bless
The Choice Rage - the teacher of the people
When pain of slumber is lost
What's hunger, what's hunger?
Thunder in the mouth, in the belly - what
Pride pride of the nation
And an epidemic in obesity
The quail flew in the soul
Between its teeth the basket and in its sleep
it was eliminated
In its dream - the hatred
violence
snatched
a blow
A wing strikes truncated
The nose and even where and where [Translator's note: wordplay on Hebrew "eifoh" meaning both "where" and a measuring unit]
And where did it fall to the ground
A nation of great weariness
Fattened
And tired
People fell, behold you have fallen
Even you
There's no discrimination from God
Only illusion without cure
Your illness - not
A surprise
And even your crash
Lacks momentum
You will no longer illuminate the world
Even your sunset
Is not beautiful
The Choice Living abroad - so the children
won't turn out Israeli
Abroad they're not sick
with Jewish chutzpah
They don't save themselves
At least - the offspring
A land whose inhabitants eat
each other, whose lovers
hate, where deceit is good
for the snake of Jacob [Translator's note: Biblical reference]
no uprightness in Israel
Grandpa GPT Artificial intelligence
sharpens differences
between content and form:
between understanding and the artificial,
a wooden puppet flood
is no longer a real child
Layer of my brain joy of my old age
and its lie - my culture
disappointment of my criticism
and with my body my corpse
breath of my nostrils
Internet Prayer My God, save us from AI
for You have pitied us too much
before the foreskin of our minds
in the valley, before our Messiah
Lord calculated
Homerusia War is the victory of quantity
over quality, the mother
of the long form
Poetry that is a novel
Not short - and to the point
The phenomenon of quantity
that turns into quality
Not even one system
expensive, hidden, or wise beyond compare
doesn't decide a battle
Only systematics, not essence, not the line
makes poetry, and not story - literature.
The erosion
is the essence
Not maneuver, trick, surprise
Not momentum, not attack
but the supply
Infinite quantities, inconceivable
of ammunition, armor, armaments, fools, resources, trucks, masses
Not sophisticated plans, just simple friction, erosion of forces and forces of erosion
One long and hard grinding to dust, artillery is the queen of
battle, logistics is the decisive factor, entrenchment is the form of
battle strongest by far, not a flash of heroism
depth - digging
Therefore wars don't end, not fast
They drag on, persist, in trenches, don't finish
So from ancient times
Even the most worn-out clichés
receive deep true power
When the demonstration is on enormous scales
Even the most obtuse peoples
learn a lot from war
and its terror is the mother of every nation
Therefore -
Follow Ukraine
Read about every move, update on the smallest turn
Learn so much from it, about the limits of power, on a smart and convenient device
From the couch you've become so old and experienced and sober
Yes, one can only know how a struggle begins
doesn't end
And an army that lies to itself - its end is bitter
Thoroughness, not secrecy, not any weapon that is kept
hidden, not the quality gap
but the quantity of cannons and flesh
Special forces won't decide, not technology, only banality
Like the drill of walking in columns
Not some brilliant image, but the things
Most prosaic, they are the poem, not a punchline, not the arrogance of the air force,
but infantry training
There's nothing from Ukraine more interesting and enriching
Learn to live from those who pay the price
The Remnant of Israel Two unblemished year-old lambs
slaughter one another
Holy flock has become bestial
And Your name is no longer in them
A sabbatical year has come to them -
from You
They drop their culture to the ground
An ignorant lamb is not innocent
Look from Your heavens at their gaze
Staring cruel - and stupid
And what remains
Left to flee from Your burning
Like a wind pushed - from a narrow mind
Need to build a fortress
Far from your breached city
Your land of a foreign god
So your son -
To Ashkenaz [Translator's note: refers to Germany/Europe] returned
Post-trauma Pressure - no. Anger
Take out the volcano
Bury them, cover their suffocation
Desperate plaster seeking shelter
Years of life after the quake
The Cable Strangling escaped
Smooth part
Snake in the rope
Everything depends - whispered
On forgetting the mourning
For the child
It's Dead I don't know if there are young people
And if anything happens today
I'm a frog with birds
In the mud of literature an idea sinks
A pioneer takes off her shirt
In the swamp of
Drying up of talent
Those I knew have dimmed from within
Wrote from within, and today - blooming of skills
Direct poems that aren't straight
Did you read the interview?
His Name and Memory in One Utterance / Let Us Hear: You Are Not Special Why - since time immemorial they say
Things deteriorate - and the matter is puzzling?
Because golden ages are fast and short
In a flash - something from nothing
While the declines are long as evening
A great dim, boredom and closed eye -
Tail periods
Ascents soar - don't crash, glide
Hundreds upon hundreds
For if you didn't hatch from the egg on Sabbath
Almost always you found yourself
In a desert generation of weekdays
And there are words to eat
The Sobering of the Soul Overrides - All Prohibitions in the Torah At my age, when they reveal to me about their revelations - - about:
This and that and some love, ah, the disappointment, it's already
not credible I believe in faithful sex not in artists don't understand who in our days
gets excited
from the feeling
itself
intensely
from the reality that it offered
itself
and he found it in the middle
- the act -
(Invention, or what
do you know at your age)
The youth of our days, I miss
the old people of the past
Because the old people of our days
they too miss the young people
of the past, and I testify about our youth -
that they never existed
The Human Condition At my age, I discovered
that human beings
do *not* act
The sheep are passive, people remain in their trouble,
perpetually stuck, anti-active, this is always their bias
busy with their excuse, even against their own knowledge and wisdom -
their stupidity
and that's it. And that's it, that's
the root of their soul - and the true essence
of human nature
Once Imagery Was a Chest - Today It's a Play Their romantic love
purer
dirtier than sex, longing for themselves
pretending - faces
that their tail is a river
Oh their pain their love (narcissistic, like sex - short)
The flattery to the past, disguising as an irrelevant era - superfluous
When computers imitate better than them, their art their craft,
their love - erases the human, screen screen that is the wall
Who is original in all the city
Manic Nymph She understands sex, and what is her understanding
ability
to enjoy much more than her gender
and boys of course, you're with her, the "persistent" always, her love
your compatibility, many (very) times pulsing in her bed
no arguments she dies
for your repression
because you
are delayed
ejaculation
The Slave Love is restraint
in argument, on her part
and on your part in satisfaction
To lie forever with the friend
the best
A wise queen, single and beautiful
Oh, love
The Closure After I envy her peaceful sleep
after love
I have demons and she has breasts
I have names - she has skies
Even in dreams she wouldn't guess
What I have in thoughts
Hidden Righteous Cursed be your vanities to God
I hated the breath of your nostrils
The insolent outside the mask, choke please
I am the last keeper of the corona
The only one who didn't get sick, didn't change
The recovered don't dream that they are no longer
human beings. Others - all of them
And only I witness -
The change is subtle, invisible
But deep and forever exists
It - the hidden secret in the world
The Eternal Crown The revelation of the crown instead of inventing the wheel
The coronation on every hill and under
every Asherah [Translator's note: pagan worship site] like the revolution of
a fresh generation
Corona even when asymptomatic
destroys the heads forever
tramples future poet cubs
A spiritual sleep fell
on the world - got sick - brain damage, simultaneous
worldwide, turned by itself into a cultural fall
everyone everyone
and not that before it was perfect
Precisely when the damage is a few percent
It's the high ability that was hit, unlike the rhymes
An incurable blow, in a generation that anyway suits
the silence of the archives, that doesn't know how to stop
exaggerating, an era that is nothing but a comma
at the end of the twentieth century.
The Epitome of Perfection Since I foresee in the stars
An era when everyone will be kings
A small addition in self-love moved
Society has undergone a phase transition
And its culture - sheared
The impermeability of the atoms created
In the material of the spirit a state of matter
Everything is stupid and bad taste - everything is under control
self rare
In others, outside of half a violent twitch
And in rooms - screens of lust
Themselves with themselves - they will pleasure
And in their circular love they will forever err
In the eternal fire that withers
In their hearts: the admiration
self-attached
In their lives and in their deaths
There is no separation
The Calf 2.0 Even the closed eyelid is made up
In the gray dim area
Between trust in a dream
To the fraud that it is
The cause of causes
And the reason for the rise of
The high-tech industry in our small country
Living in suspension between faith
And deception
Led is the open-capital ecclesia
By the closed-eye synagogue
The tech staff strikes the silent investor - like Mammon [Translator's note: god of wealth]
In the idolatry of Judaism of desolation
And water - there is none
It Was Simply a Mistake This occupation is kitsch
It's too easy, trite like feeling
It's not accurate to blame (the violence on the road!)
The heat of the browns or the Arab culture
The polite to wear down
By saying Kaddish [Translator's note: Jewish prayer for the dead]
On the fresh grave
Of Hebrew culture
Which grows and sanctifies
The anti - name
From all the chatter
Because a web creates a spider
The lack of culture from the connection of all culture
We saw it on the internet, and in the country - in the mistake
Of uniting the Jewish diaspora
When the lowest common denominator of the fragments of
Judah is the lion
Who loved strawberry
How Goodly Are Your Tents, O Jacob The Israeli disaster must not
Root a historian dedicated
To the past of the people of Hebrew
Beyond the passage
From the West to Hebrew
The Jews have always been similar
Crazy dead - or crazy alive
To devour a fellow
If they're not eaten they swallow
One another, man hates his neighbor
And not from the Second Temple or First, but from Genesis
If they're not abhorred - just! -
They abhor them
Hate and don't shut up
Think there's none but them
A people not stupid
And their blessing - Balaam [Translator's note: Biblical figure who tried to curse Israel]
A Lesson in Faith When aging one understands
How everything is trust
And death of trust is death from within
From sex and art to economies and nations
(Including our people) - its death is our death
There is - no trust
Speech of the One-Eyed Woman
The One The one and only (indeed. well then)
How is it possible that it's you of all people?
Of all the exes
The only one I blocked
You because I was the only one
Who truly loved you
And you - (behind the screen) - knew
Therefore you tried to keep in touch - to
Such an extent (and if not through the door - the window)
To confirm to yourself that you haven't
Lost
Lost
Profile Picture That same day (Sunday) was the day
The last
In which I followed you
I saw and your face did not
Go with me into battle
An entire abandoned intelligence building, not destroyed
The Shin Bet [Translator's note: Israel's internal security service] gave up its life due to this not to you
And in all its years since then - not
Even once did I dare
To enter
Your Facebook
Because (with that) I knew
I wouldn't cope
Curse The others
Could have been your friends
While I cursed you and cursed you
Everywhere
N O
There was
Separation as a friend
Boycott as a declaration
Of intense hot love
And naked
A declaration of war
Again and Again (Years) You loved them like you loved me
But I loved
You like they will never love
You again
Parallelism of the Future
And I Will Bring Upon You a Curse and Not a Blessing The rage tastes of the foolish
And the mouth of a fool stirs up anger
Like foam it will foam and swallow the wise
And a fool will spray a flying splash
From tooth to eye
Not even a dog extends patience - there is none
Kicking in the air barking into the iPhone
Taking out frustrations on service providers on the phone
The impurity of his illness prepares the mouth and the phone
And they will bite him in his behind a thousandfold
Like a caravan of sons of dogs
And he will be as one of the people of Israel
And he will curse his neighbor as God will not curse
Venting And it came to pass on the day of their calamity
That all the people brought out
The curser
And they cried
These are your gods, O Israel
The Wretched One He finished their five years
With a WhatsApp message
Like surrendering fingers in a handshake
Thus he did to all his haters - the exes
In one cut like a butcher a chest from bras
When he ate schnitzel from their breasts with their milk
The plundered one was not saved, her heart with their hearts
Virtuoso with his hands - musician of his past
How they all fell at his feet - and micro his member
To their innards he rushed immediately, second date loves them
Heatedly he argued stormy on the table - when under the small
Excited and not excited
Like a finger
He played son at the G-spot thrilled
Their pleasure according to law, with guitarist fingers
And the judgment of women was given - he did not diminish their season
And he did not take his eyes from their sighs - watching their pleasures from outside
After a month he strived for their wedding
For him sex is porn - he remains Har Nevo [Translator's note: Biblical mountain where Moses viewed the Promised Land]
To the Promised Land he will not come - even when he comes
Just a small advantage in the ass his pain is not felt
Please anal - and where is his tail - he answered that he left
Is not every man's heart like a dog?
Is it not a tragedy
That is a comedy
It is a comedy - that is a tragedy
A cruel fate that between his legs disappointed - he knew
In pain that unlike other males nature deceived him
In lust and love he too, like them, as the strong sex
But the joke in his underwear an evil dwarf laughed
He fell in love like lightning - (and they like a fountain in the sky
Sprayed in rainbow and arrow in chest) - and like thunder threw
Desired beauties who wanted him he abandoned - to their sighs
In anger at them he shouted - over every little
Thing
Humiliating and defeating them in their game - themselves
From the cloud to him he raised them - lowering them
As he masturbated and went down to them -
As no one else ever
Again and again (and again) he made them finish
After taking them he left to their utter
Surprise from within him
A controlling child and a screaming man
When they don't care about his member - for a long time already
But about the size of his heart - but like a spoiled and vengeful baby
Loses control in a second when they are not
Under his control like the eunuch he is like a sultan
Just as in sex he's skilled -
Ruling in their bed, object of their worship, he, the "amazing one", to their astonishment
Hurt by them, wounding their souls
In a serial script (written long ago) trained
Accusing them, of destroying their happiness, in loss, their great love - all of them
Desperate, feeling himself as a victim of the world
Many queens he killed with little feet, and a line of victims behind him
He left like a tail
L
O
N
G than all
How only
In the end
She thought to write to them
To understand from the beginning, to speak from request
Connecting with the former women
Connecting dots
Those she hated, about whom her beloved
Endlessly and ceaselessly defiled
And her past was revealed to her that night -
As prey
Indeed she is one of the wise ones
She was one of the previous ones
Among endless amazing crazy loves
Dead in sequence
Remembering how he would play for her at evening time
Until When Shall We Dwell in a State of One Support The parallelism future of Hebrew poetry
The form of the ancient prime
And rhymes inferior
Falling sounds
Many waters have eroded
And lines -
Foundations of heaven and earth
- Lines will not meet, they will restrain -
Until horizons are renewed
They shall not be moved forever
Opposite it stands
On two
It shall arise
A universe
Acceptance for the Future From cheap, musical sounds
Great parallelisms
And dances - welcoming Sabbaths.
Secular people will know religion
And people of plains mountains
Poets will go towards
A bride: how
All their world is built of male and female
Right and left, understanding = double-sided
Even their special, lustful mind
Enters the ark
Two by two
Love: breasts
Not one organ
Alone.
Middle of Our Right Path In the middle of life
My faith in art waned*
*But clung especially to sexuality
Experience banished from experiments
And from choices of youth
In investments and women it's more important what not to do
Than what to do
The experienced one knows: do very little -
And beware of nonsense
Bad love - worse than hatreds
A woman's temperament is more important than her soul
And her natural inclination - than all she'll say in emotion
When it's not good - she's hard in your house like a bear
So always love madly
The completely sane one - and see a future of days with her
And don't believe that if she's quiet
She's quiet also in sex
The Odyssey of the Market Man Investments teach from mothers
And the stock market's morality is wiser than elders
Decisions are not seeing the future
They are risk management
Blessed is he who withstood the trials of markets
Bubbles and crashes his flesh has experienced
He knew green surges - and savings erased
He will yet stand in sweet temptations
And deep losses
He knows what's important from the pilot's seat - the navigator's seat
And from male pride endurance of staying - in not knowing, and even in no knowledge
He will not be paralyzed from action, for even a decision -
It too is a decision
And there is no worse investment than no investment
He was a youth and saw, also his days increased
For his life deepened, the hour has come
His time has come to be a father
Opinionated Bride The female emotion - a mental lie
Many enthusiastic declarations
Empty
But delicate-sweet
Dizzying heads to hearts
Under pulsing lumps
In the heat of their fat
Their fat -
The breasts
Under you the skies
Develops the false oath of sentimentality
Lacking content but not material
Served trembling craving for no saying (oh, shy girl)
And who will withstand the demand of the gaze
Female?
Nature knew to blind a man with expressions of their hearts
The excited
Their opinion has no judge - enough his eyes and secret peeks
And the extroverted - personal
A neckline will not reveal heart but will cover handbreadths
Like reddening nipples the cheeks
And their demand eyes
Therefore a woman's soul developed
Emotional to almost
Foolishness
As an advantage in evolution - the shirt
Whose secret of success is its removal
And fabric -
Tight to skin
As an advantage of darkness over light
For her desire will silence like madness
Every viewer will be flooded when her finger reaches discreetly until
Under the underwear
And they see the voices - to exhaustion
The wedding of their underwear they are the brides
Therefore the inverse relationship
Between the fervor of their mouths
To their fervor under the duvet
After the fickleness of the honeymoon period
In their bed they will praise - amazing and stunning
They will say like nothing
And in rising they will forget - their heat is their anger
And you are imprisoned
Second Job Choose her level-headed
In her efficiency thinking and not in her fervor
And set with her regular times - in her opinion
Serve her like a sex slave, night shift for her pleasure
And you will be happy and she will be happy
In bed
When the period of romance is dead
In silence
And as evening falls
When the relationship works
Industrial quiet
Is serial sex
Love is a movie
A wholesale secret
Here you are
In the era of the science of her pleasure touch
In the period of her season like fashion
Her commandment her opinion
Know her
Here you are
At the time of sex picture
Her gift a conveyor belt
And the pleasure - wisdom
And the pleasure -
Is also the love
Healthy and good
Like the duty of teeth
The two
Before sleep
Two a Day Always When the arrow of the fickle one in my chest
Then I went in haste
And said a law
Like Ben Pazi
Your bed always rises as its judgment
For spontaneity is from Satan
And the work of the woman
Brings the two closer
The first sex you will do in the morning
And the second sex
You will do between the evenings
And you will always keep to please your wife
Her relaxed man to your mistress
For approach regularly her appointed time
And wall of your temple - know
Your wife
The Covenant of Circumcision and Its Advantage in Bed One more and one more
No more a girl - but that same one
Sighing, calmly, not in a storm, in routine
The secret of poetry - another line
Long
Like an orderly and proven orgasm
Forget then what they sold cunningly
Addiction to emotion is the source of erosion
Addiction to routine - its reward is her happiness
In the cursed romantic movement
Youth is sweet and sex is terrible
America killed us with its sugar
Its pleasure mooing - swollen like a cow
Its pioneering is its shirt
Its phrase - its sucking
And its cliché -
Poetry
There's no worse lover
Than a known enthusiast
A schmuck poet
Pouring out sweetness
Not holding back
From premature ejaculation
Kiss of the Toilet Lips Cursed be those who curse on weddings
And those who reveal pleasure in the babble of English slang words
Those who love in sewer dialect and tits and confused balls
There's nothing uglier than past culture to describe
Charm as sex and cunt to boast
My beloved fucks and passes
Etc.
Shame on he who uses in his use the language of the bathroom
When the tongues of holiness and darkness will kiss
There are no words in Hebrew for the secret purpose
That you will create for yourselves from Genesis
Personal song language -
Private language
Poem Lacking Inspiration Make your love fixed
And its rhythm - know
For not its fervor and speed is its secret
But perseverance
In bed
Man and woman are not fire, they are earth
Not desire is important, or the oscillation
Or the amplitude to happiness
But the frequency
At the beginning of the relationship, when everything is charming, agree between the sheets -
On order
And give me thanks
At the end of the road
Revelation of Heart - Revelation of Incest And purify our hearts from romanticism in truth
And purify our poetry from the work of the heart
And give us a song of learning head
And no more a song of pain
That cries over dead feeling
No more a hesitating fool
Who tries to stand out
And his words dance ballet
And seduce naive girls to give
And purify our bed from the impurity of false poetry -
It is the sin
There's No One To
Song of the Past Do you remember
How on one of the islands
The softness of the waves written and read:
There are no problems in life
Only good and bad habits
Days we loved innocently
We drew water
We were stone
Dead
Twice
Always
Living once sometimes
Pulsing
Times
And time after
Time:
Lack of taste
Imprisoned in Nothing Years, years of attempts
Lives of rabbits
Literary
Hiding in hats lying and pregnancies
Ending
Come sons who brought me down
In closets, who disappointed me - that's how it is ears
Long, our father, do you recognize
The stripes and the searches, a shirt of a window
Or phylacteries of a wall?
See where they are
Ending
Foolish chapters Closed
Years upon years - sleeping buried: ask please
Are
There still pits?
Are there
Still generations?!
More descents... Can you ask
To the underworld?
Does time exist? Are they not? Are they not
Ending
Will another thousand pass here
Or in the sands a traveler
Or even
In prison
Will dig between the lines, rivers
(And dead boxes, deserts of stupid loves)
And will discover these - that just began
Ending
Oh walls, walls
Where did the dreams go
Epitaph (Late Celebration) Oh, the typed! The coded! Cursed!
(The veil rose. And they - in circles):
Everything is personal with people
Everything is emotional with women
Everything comes out of it
(Stupid)
My guilt I failed I hardened my soul
I too took personally
No one
(Not my business)
And if I wrote everything again
Could I change the plan?
Will it suffice, the possible,
A single poem, from my grave
Moon setting between her soft breasts
Of the programmer of my death
Who is my wife
Not my ex-wife
And the green fields
That burn in my jealousy
Sun rising between my legs
And my daughters dancing
On me
Last night erased my sins
The veil descended -
And they rise
All my loves, my mistakes
The typed coded cursed
Daughters daughters without errors
Coming coming all now -
All you -
Written on screens of nights - all weddings -
In darkness