The Seven Roads that Breaks a Man

I. THE POEM

🔥 “THE SEVEN ROADS THAT BREAK A MAN”

(A brutal  biker-Kabbalah poem )

Bet hits first like a curse on a long damn road,

blessing hides in the ditch where the busted dreams explode.

One minute I thank the Creator for the ride I’m on,

next minute I’m screaming, “Why’d You leave me alone?”

Gimel cuts deep like chrome on a cold steel night,

giving feels holy till the ego says, “Fight.”

I try to bestow but the beast grabs hold,

and I’m stealing back love like a thief in the cold.

Dalet opens empty like a fuel tank dry,

rich in the spirit or poor enough to die.

One mile I’m flying with abundance in my chest,

next mile I’m broke, burned out, and distressed.

Kaf swings life or death like a curve in the rain,

life when I give, death when I’m chained.

My Harley roars truth that the sages all teach:

you live when you love, and you die when you reach.

Pe shakes me inside with peace or war,

peace when I rise, war when I want more.

Every breath is a battlefield, every thought a landmine,

and the heart is the place where the bullets realign.

Resh hits wisdom or folly like a barroom fight,

wisdom when I bow, folly when I’m right.

I know damn well that truth ain’t in my view—

it’s hidden in the friends and the roads I ride through.

Tav shows grace or harshness like the sky splits in two,

mercy in the dawn, cruelty in the blue.

But the sages whisper softly, “Boy, don’t you see?

The One who breaks your bones is the One who sets you free.”

Seven double paths carved the scars on my skin,

each one a highway to lose or to win.

But the only real victory, the secret they hid above,

is to ride every mile in the service of Love.

🔥 “Steel & Spirit on Highway One”

(A biker-prayer poem for Mike and every rider who ever chased truth across the asphalt)

The engine growls like a wounded prayer,

begging the road to strip us bare,

we ride through storms the heart won’t show,

chasing the fire only riders know.

The paint is chipped, the chrome is scarred,

life burns its lessons long and hard,

we lost some friends along the line,

their names still roar inside the spine.

Wind cuts deep like a lover’s lie,

but the throttle lifts us toward the sky,

every tear that hits the wind

gets turned to steel and rides again.

We’ve bled on gravel, kissed the rain,

patched our jackets with our pain,

yet every mile, the truth gets clear—

the Force of Love is always near.

You think it’s torque that keeps us free,

but it’s the One Light riding endlessly,

guiding the lost, the brave, the worn,

through nights so cold the soul feels torn.

Yeah, we cursed the heavens, broke our trust,

buried dreams in roadside dust,

but Love keeps haunting every turn,

a fire too wild to ever burn.

So Mike, my brother, hit that ride,

let the Spirit pull up by your side,

for every rider, young or old,

is shaped in Love’s unbreaking mold.

And when the final sunset hits your eyes,

and the long road ends beneath the skies,

you’ll see the truth we chased so long—

the One Force rode with us all along.

Steel and Spirit, road and rain,

they break the flesh but free the chain,

and every mile we thought was pain

was Unconditional Love calling our name.

When She Finally Walks In

🔥 “When She Finally Walks In” — A Brutal Love Prayer Poem

I’ve walked through three lifetimes with rings on my hand,

learning how love falls apart like footprints in sand.

But the next one, Creator, let her be carved from Your flame,

a woman whose heart beats the same holy Name.

Let her beauty be radiant—both spirit and skin,

a woman who glows from the light found within.

No laziness dragging her steps through the day,

no dimness or dullness to get in the way.

Let her be strong, let her rise, let her walk by my side,

sharing this path, this ascent, this impossible ride.

Let her body be shaped like a blessing You send,

and her soul be the force that can finish my end.

May she match me in fire, intention, and pace,

her eyes burning truth when she looks at my face.

May her will be unbroken, her passion ablaze,

two sparks fused together in all of our days.

Let her hunger for unity, storms and all,

to rise when I rise and not let me fall.

Let her answer my heart when it trembles in night,

and join in the war to reveal Your great Light.

I don’t ask for perfection, but for a true pair—

a woman who fights for the love we will share.

This time let it last, let it root, let it mend,

a partner, a lover, a soul-woven friend.

If I am to serve You through love once again,

send the woman who mirrors the man I’ve become.

I ask without shame, without hiding, without fear—

Creator, bring her close…

and let her finally appear.

🔥 The Missing Conversation of Hearts 🔥

We sit in the lesson pretending we’re one,

but the moment it ends, every heart comes undone.

We mute the Zoom and forget what we felt,

like the warmth of the fire just suddenly melts.

We talk of connection, of rising above,

yet we carry no friend in our pockets of love.

No whispered prayer for Carl when the storm hits his day,

no heartbeat for Terry when his strength slips away.

Joe Bash fights his demons alone in the night,

Joe Donnelly bleeds quietly out of our sight.

Derick breaks open but no one can tell,

Oscar stands waving from inside his own hell.

Jean’s got a sorrow we never can feel,

Ilya prays softly but we’re nowhere near real.

Aron holds burdens he never unloads,

’Cause none of us walk with him down those dark roads.

We cry for the Creator but forget where He starts—

He’s built in the space between trembling hearts.

But how can He rise when we’re worlds torn apart

and we never have that missing conversation of heart?

The truth hits like thunder, it tears us in two:

We don’t think of the friends like the friends think of you.

And that’s why we’re stuck in this dry, aching place—

no memory of love when we’re back in our base.

But tonight something broke, something holy and sharp—

a scream from the center, a shattering spark.

It said, “Speak to your brothers all day, not in part—

only then will you feel their true beating heart.”

So Creator, awaken the bond we forgot,

tie friend into friend till we’re painfully caught.

Let our prayers intertwine till no one stands apart—

and You’ll rise from The Missing Conversation of Hearts.

Where The Creator Hides Between Us

Where The Creator Hides Between Us

When ten men bend their pride to give,

they taste the reason they were born to live.

Each tries to bestow though his ego screams “No!”

and from this shattered effort, the first lights start to glow.

We push through bills, through fears, through endless crap,

through mornings where we’d rather stay curled in a trap,

but the moment one heart tries to rise and give,

the others remember why together we live.

You try to love a friend and your strength disappears—

the Creator shows the truth by exposing your fears.

But when all of us fail and still reach out again,

the Creator signs His name on the hearts of ten men.

We build Him from nothing, from broken desires,

from daily annoyances, from anger and fires.

Each tiny bestowal, each gesture we try,

forms the vessel where the Creator will lie.

For revelation is not in “me,” not in “you,”

but in the place where our shattered intentions push through.

In that trembling space where two hearts meet,

the Creator’s footsteps begin to beat.

So we keep bestowing, though we stumble and fall,

and the more we admit we can’t do it at all,

the more His light gathers in the space we make—

ten men giving back what the ego would take.

🔥 “Inside the One Desire”

(A brutal everyday climb toward the Creator )

I crawl inside the want to be One with Him,

while the bills keep screaming and the lights go dim.

My phone won’t stop buzzing with the world’s demands,

yet my heart’s in a war zone with empty hands.

I dive into that chamber where the longing burns,

but the damn car won’t start and the whole day turns.

Traffic jams choke me while ego pulls tight,

still I search for His softness inside the fight.

The boss barks orders, my patience cracks,

the weight of the rent sitting on my back.

Friends ghost out, loneliness stalks the room,

yet I whisper His name in the inner gloom.

Coffee spills down my shirt as I try to ascend,

the mind mocks every dream I intend.

Pain in my chest from wanting His face,

but my dog pukes on the floor — so much for grace.

The desire pulls harder while the world goes mad,

I feel Him in the ache of the good and bad.

Every interruption is a messenger sent,

showing me the lack where my vessel is bent.

The heart breaks open because I want to give,

not for myself but for the way souls live.

In that place of longing I finally see—

He waits in the cracks life punches through me.

I press my forehead to the truth I feel,

though nothing outside of me seems to heal.

I pray from the wound where His Light is due,

and He fills that desire because it’s wholly true.

So I walk through the chaos with a trembling grin,

knowing every blow is a doorway in.

And the more the world smashes what I thought I knew,

the closer my broken heart clings to You.

The Left, the Right, and the Beast Inside

🔥 “The Left, the Right, and the Beast Inside”🔥

I stand before the King with shaking hands,

Pretending I’m whole while drowning in shifting sands.

Above reason I praise Him like a man who can’t breathe,

But when reason kicks in, it shows what’s underneath.

The left line hits me like a boot to the skull,

Revealing the truth—my heart’s empty, dull.

Importance of holiness? Only when I fake it,

Inside I’m bare, bankrupt, too damned weak to take it.

I see I’ve got nothing—no faith that’s real,

Just a mouth that talks tough while my knees always kneel.

This lack is the knife that cuts me awake,

It hurts so bad it teaches what wholeness can’t make.

Emptiness carves me till I’m hollow and thin,

Like the Creator ripped open my chest just to crawl in.

This beast in me screams, “Take for yourself!”

While the soul whispers softly, “Ask for nothing but help.”

I taste the left line—cold, sharp, and vile,

It shows what I hide with every forced smile.

But only those who seek to bestow can feel this ache,

The emptiness that threatens every breath they take.

So I beg for exaltedness, not wisdom or sight,

Just the strength to rise broken and walk above night.

Not to receive greatness, not to feel any glow,

But to bend like a servant whose master says, “Go.”

Then the right line appears—Hesed dressed like a king,

Telling me there’s good in every terrible thing.

“I made your evil,” He says, “but I gave you a spice—

The Torah to break it, if you pay the price.”

It’s brutal to see how the Torah cuts deep,

It wakes the parts of me I’d rather keep asleep.

It drags me from filth to a thin ray of light,

Not by wisdom or miracles—just choosing what’s right.

Right is wholeness, faith above knowing,

A quiet flame in a storm that keeps blowing.

And only when I cling to the Good Who Does Good,

Can the left line reveal what’s misunderstood.

Then wisdom hits—Hochma sharp as a blade,

The Torah that shines once the right has been made.

You earn the Giver only after you trust,

And walk above reason through fire and dust.

This is the work—between beast and man,

Between left and right that rip me in two as they can.

I rise from the ashes, brutalized, torn apart,

But every blow carves the Creator into my heart.