With apologies to the Israeli poet, Zelda (Shneurson Mishkowsky)
Everyone has a name for it.
They imbibe it from their mum,
who absorbed it from her mum,
dad and the great-great dodo,
too.
Everyone has a name for it.
They utter it in praise to their
favourite household god.
The one with ears that sling
a deaf ‘un; a nose that can’t
smell a rat and eyes so dim
they deny the very stumbling
block that trips him up.
Everyone has a name.
Too many to recite here.
They hurt like hell -
those wordy sticks, stones
chucked by thugs in streets;
yobs on soccer stands,
snobs at posh dinners;
tramps in parks, fellow-
travellers on trams; preachers
on pulpits; delegates at
talk-shops where a little
lingering fug clouds judgment,
distorts reason, snaps minds
most superior quite severely shut.
But for Jews, the first to
grasp there’s an unknowable,
ineffable Name, the ancient
profanities are forever
the blindingly obvious,
name-shaming same.
© Natalie Wood (08 May 2016)
1 comment:
" ... the ancient
profanities are forever
the blindingly obvious,
name-shaming same."
Post a Comment