Wailing Sky and Incoming

We love the silent skies, reverberate with bikini island and shimmer,

With bombs bursting in air, as if a bomb could purify the air,

Could ask of the night to cleanse the day,

To get out a crowd, to say all are okay.

A jew, stooped and beaten down,

An arab, almost a scarab, bettle browed,

A young woman wearing a beautiful stallion, serving as a medallion,

A jew, willing to sit on the sidelines, willing to be a waterboy,

Willing to ask what’s to be done,

To broadcast over Moscow, the wheat of Ukraine, the story of glory,

Chernobyl is in Ukraine.

A jew at a wailing wall, I could write or scribble a cartoon, if I was you, I would wail, regardless of tune.

The tune would be scherlotic, neurotic, as if the wall were the moon. Ghislaine, Marie, even Napoleon, and his gimlet, a strategic hamlet, a bed and breakfast, for harpoon or lampoon,

Jewab Israe-gypt Suda-food.