By ‘Othello’ Tunnels,
Not that of Shakespeare,
In trance, watch the river,
Water runs and the stones,
Are kind of half-immersed.
I went, took some pictures,
Then packed tools,
Walked around on the earth.
Earth and I were friends,
She felt like my mother!
On some rock, sat silent,
And stared at the waves,
Saw many varied curves,
Around the rocks,
And elsewhere…
I felt I was a bird,
I felt I was a rock,
I felt I was water.
I was all,
I was none.
For the artist, a brush,
For canvas, I was love.
I felt like louvre-Shahyad,
The paintings on the walls,
Of my heart, and my mind.
I recalled my childhood,
Esfahan’s Zayandeh Rud
Then Vineh and Jajrood…
With mountains all around,
With a clean blue sky,
With many autumn leaves,
I observed a painting…
Why? Why? Why?
I saw why turning what?
Then, where, when,
And then how?
How I wish others saw,
I wish it were answered,
Sadly though, it was not!
How I wish never came!
Let’s look at examples,
Let us see the El Che!
He, being communist?
What for? Why?
Why? Why? Why?
Look at his trip on,
A cheap and childish bike,
To get work, went to a mine,
Disrespect…
The island with patients,
Leprosy, abandoned,
He asked why.
UFC and allies,
USA and the wars,
Their puppets…
Now, here, the second,
Do we see the drugs?
Do we ask the question:
Why? Why? Why?
What about the addicts?
The makers to supply?
Study with the Why?
Being one, lone ‘Not us!’
I was there, with them, all,
If not the core and central.
Theirs Green and blue eyes,
And hairs were Red, blonde,
Salt-Pepper, Hazels, mine…
Muslim-born, from far
I have come,
Elderly, no more a child.
I’ve crossed the borders,
Of the lands, souls, cultures,
I see us as sisters and brothers.
They were mine, I was theirs,
They are mine; I am theirs.
That made me the core central.
Brian had arranged,
Birthday to celebrate,
Sugar Mom’s 70-Year.
I mingled, we had fun,
Danced and talked,
I enjoyed Pam’s Cezar!
On one side I had him,
(My distance- relative,
Born in the Nev Sari.)
Other side were addicts,
(Poor victims,
Cantonese and Chinese.)
Selected, there I was:
“You, listen, hear, judge,
Be conscious, have a heart.”
Intervened shared blood,
How could I? How could I?
Long ago, in the old days,
We gathered and prayed:
“Zarathustra, our leader...”
Later, when Arabs came,
To be safe, we parted,
My parents converted,
But not his, they escaped.
Both of us, long after,
Encountered Britain.
He became a Baronet,
But I am against them.
Difficult is judgment!
Difficult is judgment!
He helped ‘East India,’
And followed the royals:
“Regardless of who, how,
Kill and loot, colonize!”
How can I be the judge?
I love Jesus, Gibran’s:
“Conquer but with love.”
Want to write like “Plumbs,”
Of Carlos Williams.
How many?
What went on?
Have plants in my yard,
Cucumber, zucchini, squash,
Mint, jalapeno, and so on…
Plant of tomato,
Turned yellow,
I felt dumb…
Kept asking:
“What went wrong?”
In my hand pruner,
Walked as if executer,
Cut some leaves to trim.
There, I heard a shrub,
Sighed and subbed!
“You, selfish,”
Said fences,
And spooks!
I had set,
A thread
To direct!
Leaves lost life,
When observed,
Noose around!
Said the falling tears:
“You, selfish human,
You killer in action,
You tied it on my neck,
You stopped the water!”
On my way,
Morning time,
Saw workers,
Of Punjab,
Men, women,
Old and young.
Saw plants,
Of berries,
Blueberry,
Raspberry.
Saw plants,
Like soldiers,
All lined up,
Set to march.
On return,
Two machines,
Mexicans,
And baskets.
Machine picked?
Or Handpicked?
Asked sellers,
Some ladies!
I questioned,
That and this,
And did learn,
Researching!
Money goes to dealers,
Not workers, laborers,
Not needy or orphans!
Yes, this is everywhere,
With police, governments,
Synagogues and Churches,
To Mosques and preachers!
Soon, want to wear my shoes,
On my head, and my hat…
You can laugh…
You can laugh…
As my shoes!!!
Soon, want to take my nose,
And put it in my pants…
You can laugh…
You can laugh…
To replace genitalia!!!
Then reverse!
And reverse!
Did you know?
Colonialists,
If ever captured king,
Or any prophet,
Enslaved,
Called: “Pagans?”
Vatican and Spain,
Sweden, Britain,
And Holland,
To France and Norway,
Lost thrones are fallen,
Like Greece and Perse!
We know of the crowns,
And Czars, and Royals,
Collapsing to be ground,
For New, to walk on.
Why not wear trousers,
As a jacket, and a shirt,
As cover for the legs?
Observe the bumble bees,
Fat, chubby, and lazy,
Quiet, slowly, flying,
Penetrate flowers, circling.
They repeat the same thing,
With bushes, more trees,
Feel amazed, keep thinking.
“This is called pollination,
They do what do the pimps,
Matchmakers; matchmaking.”
With more time,
Revisit and revise:
“This is a miracle,
Creator? Or nature?”
You name it whatever!
This is not man, science!
It has been forever…
Forever and ever…
Doubtlessly is great,
Must praise miracles!
We, selfish, humans,
Are the bags of nonsense,
Or are filled with science,
Narcissists do claim!
What are we?
What the heck?
Recorders, internet,
And AI, and others,
Are nothing but infants,
Whenever, if compared,
With galaxies, oceans!
Wonder why some wonder:
“You? Hating the USA?”
Here is my answer:
“Devil is in the detail!”
As soon as came Reagan,
Declared war against us.
Amassed jets, tanks, and guns,
Used some fool named Saddam.
Saudi, USA, and allies,
Added to what Russia,
Had given to Iraq…
Bombs and shells,
Killed! Injured!
Who made them?
Who were the murderers?
Who was the main leader?
Saudi was only a puppet!!
If honest with wisdom
No need to go further,
Let’s step on the brake!
The papers, media,
Talk to youths in Iran,
And find them at a loss.
Many lost some friends,
In haze live men, women,
Have lost hope, interest,
For fighting but can’t rest!
USA meant Reagan,
He came and injected,
In our veins and brains,
The worst of poisons!
Listening to Wagner
Read Wagner.
Germany,
Italy,
And Russia,
And Ukraine,
Pentagon, USA!
Enjoying music
Lose laughter,
Shed tears.
What the hell!
What the hell?
What the hell??
The questions
Hit the wall and return.
Ouch, it hurts!
Ouch, it hurts!!
Ouch, it hurts!!!
They want me to join them:
“Be one of our members.”
I didn’t say a word,
In silence, with motion
Said: “Never, not, ever!”
Die for wealth or power?
Live lavish, and spend?
For inside underwear?
“No, no, no, not ever!”
“No, no, no, not ever!”
“No, no, no, not ever!”
As the child of mountains,
And kidnapped on oceans,
Went through large flames,
From toes to the head…
Saw fire everywhere,
All over, each corner!
“So, never, not ever!”
“So, never, not ever!”
“So, never, not ever!”
No, cannot, will not sell,
The warm heart, a blessed,
For mankind, with kindness.
“No, no, no, not ever!”
“No, no, no, not ever!”
“No, no, no, not ever!”
Can’t join you for power,
And not for wealth’s sake.
“No, no, no, not ever!”
“No, no, no, not ever!”
“No, no, no, not ever!”
Let me be and remain,
Poor rebel, for justice.
Driving to the west
On Zero Avenue
Saw deer confused!
Ran across,
Then stopped,
Faced a fence,
And returned!
In those eyes
Two stars
And whirlpool!
Froze foot on the break,
Calm, silent, I observed,
Thought of me as a deer!
“I found her,
Talked, chatted,
Sang love songs.”
“She confirmed,
On fire to join her,
Hit a wall of metal,
Screened are fences!”
“She remained as did I,
between us was a wall!”
What the hell is this life?
What the hell is mankind?
Those with shops, media,
Full of lies, just show off,
Pretend when they shout:
“Polar bears and the fox,
Elephant, Grizzly, gorilla,
The whales, seal creatures,
Large condors and eagles,
Have decreased in number!”
Homayun,
I heard you,
Like many,
(Unlike fools,)
Reject books
Of the Jews…
Confirm it?
Some call you:
“Imāniš…”
Do agree?
But some say:
“Was a devil!”
Really?
I believe,
You were right,
We need peace:
“Get rid of the evil.”
But sadly, Evil writes,
Erases old, ancient,
Then rewrites!
Evils have piles of lies,
Both old and new ones!
Their murders, genocides,
Are somehow,
Blamed on the poor God!
Shamelessly they claim,
They follow God’s order:
“We saw him in visions,
His orders to Moses,
Abraham, and others,
Was cleaning this filth!”
Here, I sit to write,
To write well, read a lot.
Stories,
Poetries,
You name it!
At times I feel great,
But mostly, feel little.
What is it that I want?
Do I seek a prize?
Or is it for my kids?
For a world, in coming?
Good and bad around me?
For Arabs? Israel?
For deprived?
Orphaned kids?
Buffalo or the fish?
For nature?
Lush green?
Or cement?
Concrete?
Feel like a volcano…
Must spew…
My lava is burning!
I talked with a friend,
Ex-colleague,
A Shiite, Lebanese…
“Peace and health,
Is our need…”
He told me.
Nothing more,
That was it…
Nothing more,
That was it…
Nothing more,
That was it…
He said less,
I got more…
“US Bombed…”
I could read:
"Christians,
Not Muslims,
Murdered
Jews,
As killers,
Betrayers…"
Helplessly,
Complained:
“Injustice,
Injustice,
Injustice!”
“The rulers…”
Guess I heard:
“Did wrong then,
And again,
Do the same!”
He lies as his book does,
Which Moses?
Abraham?
These fictions are all lies,
For one sake, brainwash!!!
These racists always say:
“We are God’s children,
His best and favorites,
As rulers, his chosen.”
I do not believe them,
Their heroes are devils,
They oppress all others!
And if once…
Only once…
Feel burning,
Feel a bite…
They cry like showers:
“We suffer for others,
We brought milk, sugar,
To feed poor children,
Were ambushed,
By darkness…”
But they are spiders,
Their webs are spread,
They are leeches, vultures,
They are foxes, jackals,
Have their show, pretend,
Use shrines like churches!
Which Moses?
Abraham?
It is time for science,
To bury fictitious,
Heroes of these liars!
Ladies and Gentlemen,
I have come from there,
Brought you a message.
To visit Chief Big Bear,
I went to Frog Lake,
He was sharp and fresh.
Talks ended, came silence,
He approached a deathbed,
Yes, he went to deathbed!
I whispered slogans:
“An Eighteen-Eighty-Five,
Is needed, Natives Rise…”
His eyes were fixed on me:
“Use your pens and brain,
Do not kill, don’t murder…”
I recall the old days,
Desires, and Male-gaze,
Seeing knees and ankles,
Pleasing, like good sex!
Now, today, on the way,
When I see the ankles,
Study their footwear,
Plastic, all of them!
Everywhere, articles
Explain the carbon,
As fuel for the cars,
Or a ship sailing on.
Let us see what we wear.
With her head on my arm,
We enjoy lying down,
To observe that outside,
Secretly, in the fog,
The waves dance,
They dance waltz…
The stage on the lake,
Presents a ballet,
With the fish’s nibbles.
The trees on the heights,
Request the skies,
Begging for the sunshine.
She and I toss and roll,
Until we fall asleep,
Dreaming for filming,
These great sceneries.
“Soundtrack?” I ask her,
“Miracle of the waves.”
Felt the chill of morning,
A knight rode the breeze!
I stood consciously,
And observed silently!
Saw a wasp,
Photographed.
Quite weak its motions,
To survive, struggled.
Felt it was all in vain!
Is it gone? Still there?
Smashed it a dog’s paw,
Then the shoe of a child,
And a wheel of walker!
Unaware of later,
Wonder if it is dead!
What is life?
What is fate?
Are we not all the same?
Even if not Cannon,
Proverb, is great:
“When breaks clay pot,
Its yoghurt spreads,
Enjoy it, boot lickers!”
Festival like yoghurt,
Was inside the fences
Those outside, spread,
Were on roads to play,
Their guitars, violins.
Here, in Canada,
Most Chinese are wealthy!
Where from? How made it?
Off Mao and his team?
But being a Chinese,
Is not a guarantee,
For being filthy-rich!
She is fully covered,
She collects cans, bottles!
For herself?
To pay debt?
The debt for, escaping?
From zoo to end in,
The cage of one percent?
For sake of future?
My questions are endless!
The tears,
If ignored,
Activate,
The bullets!
In the heat of the sun,
I honed on, a woman, bike, a dog.
Poor my nose, ears, eyes,
They witnessed what went on.
Nose absorbed the stench,
Ears heard dog’s breaths,
Eyes observed a deranged.
She, her hair and clothes,
Talked without any voice.
She had kissed the world, bye,
Did not care for the laws…
Was free of all bounds,
Thanks to use of drugs.
I felt sad for the dog,
Thin like hair, bones a lot.
But she, stinking master,
Watered the dog by bucket…
Angry I was, yet,
Admired her kindness.
Said to me September:
“I brought you a guest.”
I stood and observed,
On stage, saw ballet.
Looked at leaves,
Fall, fallen…
They carried a message:
“Best color is in death.”
I smiled: “My honor,
Is having such a guest.”
Wrote a song in silence:
“Welcome; Come closer,
You, autumn, or the Fall,
To my house, my Sarai.”
She, once was,
Princess…
Daughter of,
African,
Dictator…
Their land was divided,
Occupied by others,
Colonized to the end…
Libya became a,
Gourmet for,
Ghaddafi…
The rest is history!
Came Arabs’ Spring!
Taliban, Iraq’s wars,
And changes…
Like before,
Empires,
Rose and fell!
Poor people,
Poor nations,
In whirlwinds!
Life got tough,
Those blind,
Were tranced,
Sought the past!
Princes Resurface,
March forward,
Charlatans:
“My devoted father,
Served you,
Was our savior,
So will I if return.”
I met him on the plane,
We chatted as neighbors,
His name and religion,
Were very clear:
“You two are brothers.”
But are we?
He follows Zarathushtra,
By force, I converted.
He was raised in Mumbai,
Speaks in the tongues of,
Indians, India, but not I…
He is too close to,
The London’s politics,
But not I, not at all…
Then,
Are we brothers?
He came to my place,
I met him as his guest.
Going deep into time,
We share the same blood,
We are one, heart-to-heart.
The rulers of shrines,
Politicians, political,
Used their tongues,
Swords and guns,
And cut us into parts.
He and I smoked, dined,
We brought past to now,
So, listen to me shout:
“Let’s break all the walls,
Let’s shatter every bar,
Once again let’s unite.”
You call me what you want:
“A racist, Semitist, or anti!”
Whatever, whatever, whatever,
I cannot, I cannot, I cannot…
I cannot sit idle,
To the guns and bullets,
To bombing and murder,
To disease and sickness,
Of the poor children,
All because one corrupt,
A liar hypocrite,
Claims with programs:
“We fight the terrorists!”
He is just fooling us,
He fears honest judge,
Exactly like Trump!
He knows it very well,
During peace, justice,
Will issue a warrant:
“PM must go to jail.”
Therefore, he gives orders:
“Kill and rape, regardless,
Torture those arrested…”
If ever the war ends,
Many of the soldiers,
Innocent boys and girls,
Those drafted victims,
Will end in hospitals.
PTSD comes from,
Seeing the body parts,
Or shedding the blood,
Witnessing a homeless,
Hungry and dispersed,
Thanks to the dictators!
Far ahead,
At distance,
I stare…
But what for?
I was fooled,
By mirage,
By ashes!
Feel the pain,
Walking on the fire,
Shrapnel and needles!
In the pain,
I forget!
What was I,
Looking for?
I dance as do Sufis,
Filled with love,
Psychedelic!
Why?
Finally, I know me,
Feel the fish in the sea.
I broke most cages,
Left behind trenches,
And ignored the castles.
Found myself,
Have crossed the borders,
Around me are nations,
And anthems, and cultures!
Found myself,
Found myself,
Found myself.
Head in the sand, unaware,
Among them, one of them,
I wish I could be there,
Like Rumi’s,
Ant on leaf, on water,
Touching an elephant,
Fight over the grape,
A woman-donkey-death!
I wish I could be there,
I wish I could be there,
I wish I could be there.
I received a message:
“Hi and bye…
Heading for pilgrimage,
Karbala…”
Want to hate but cannot,
They are of my blood.
They are caged,
Brainwashed,
By mullahs.
Damn, mullahs!
Damn, mullahs!
These devils,
Have killed faith!
As well as,
Forgiveness,
And kindness,
And trust,
And Khoda,
And Allah!
I look for,
A Martin,
A Luther,
A hero.
Let us write a letter,
For the gate,
Of the mosque:
“Death to Ayatollah!”
She, on the radio:
“Was virgin,
For many, many years,
Never told my friends,
Was ashamed,
Not had been desired!”
I smile,
On my mind:
“Past novels, stories,
Spoke high of virgins,
They were most desired.”
Then I think:
“Is she hers?
Or others?”
And close,
The chapter!
Many souls,
Men, women,
Children,
And pet dogs,
Saw ‘Pride!’
A few,
were in masks,
Blue Jay,
Dogs and cats…
I wondered:
“What is that?”
Went and asked!
‘Dog Mask’ said:
“As I can explain,
‘It is Escapism!”
Today I,
Went to see,
A Pride-policy.
All ages,
All colors,
All genders.
In me boiled,
One question:
“Who are they?”
A mother of my age,
Drove in her daughter,
Aloof girl with shyness.
Mother was full of care,
For her autist daughter,
What can do a mother?
The T-shirts came in pink,
To reject bullying:
“All, welcome and join in.”
Hey, Trump and JD:
“Shut up and say nothing,
About those with such needs!”
Red is light,
I stop,
Look at her,
Empathize!
She is old,
Hat, she wears,
Has no hair,
Has she shaved?
No breast,
Nothing there,
In my sight,
Her bra…
I question:
“For fashion?”
For many days and nights,
Possibly, many months,
I meant to,
Could not write!
He is sick, has cancer,
Cureless, faces death!
For how long?
No answer!
Therefore, he,
Has become an actor,
He shows off, pretends.
His parents, unaware,
Siblings, unaware,
Plays and hides away:
“Thank you, all is well!”
But is not,
Firmly has decided,
Wrote a play to direct,
On stage of the theatre!
He told me and we met:
“My uncle and friend,
Please be the witness,
My will and my wishes,
Are legal and written,
Everything goes to her,
No tomb and no grave,
No whining, no tears,
Simply cremate!”
Wants to be forgotten,
Like sunrise to sunset!
He deserves an Oscar!
He deserves an Oscar!
He deserves an Oscar!
Were we then two friends?
He fed me and we walked,
He owned me as his dog.
But, no more…
Now we are enemies…
I, as a wolf,
Am homeless, hungry,
And always on the run!
I am marked:
“Is a beast,
Terrorist,
And
Savage…”
And many,
Many more…
Redacted is one word:
“Is free, on his own!”
Today we, once again,
Joined to work together.
His long hair unbundled,
Was curly around the neck,
Sincere, his comment:
“You, Gandhi, reincarnated.”
I have had a rich life,
In action, long in time.
Some hear and suspect,
Some adore and respect.
Helpless, he made a call,
It was long after the job,
I was back in no time…
Yes, this is how we are!
“Can I pay for the fuel?”
I replied: "No! at all…"
I told him of Ernest,
And Chaco’s bike rider:
“They gave me new life,
Selflessly, were too kind,
This is what I pay them,
I follow their trend,
Roll sleeves to give help.”
From now Josh will talk:
"Give a hand and be nice.
Improve the social life."
Some may call it Karma,
Some say, Lord, Yahweh,
And some, God, or Allah,
Some give it other names,
All of these mean the same.
Such loans need settlement.
Lewis, I,
We spoke…
It was hard,
Staring,
In his eyes!
He is heir,
Britain’s…
Quite well-traveled,
Visited museums…
Feels ashamed:
“We, the worst!”
He, before Canada,
Visited Australia,
Africa, to Ethiopia.
“We looted,
And stole,
Broke bonds,
Enslaved…
…filled cases,
Museums,
With their bones…”
Lowered eyes,
Straight at his toe:
“…we claimed,
White is Wise…”
Then Lewis,
Took shovel,
Joined the rest:
“They? Or us,
Is truly Savage?”
No more words!
Tomorrow, choose a time,
Get dressed and go out,
Walk and find a haven,
A creek, some river…
Or maybe, beach, or lake,
Can be sea or ocean…
Or a forest, jungle,
Or a park, or even,
A landfill, anywhere.
Squat, sit idle,
Let your eyes do the rest,
Watch the birds.
Look at the wings, feathers,
Their flights, right and left,
Up and down, maneuvers.
They amuse, are great,
Some flap, some glide,
Or a mix, or somehow,
…, …, …,
Then return, shut your eyes,
Remember what went on.
USAID is in sight,
Of the US murals.
The people dead, injured,
With the holes of bullets,
On the run and homeless
Thanks to bully-bombers.
The sheepskin wearer
Has the wolf’s desire,
To impose its power,
Only to take revenge.
See Sudan, Africa,
Americas, Palestine,
Refugees all around.
Demolished are houses,
On the run are people,
From guns and soldiers,
Also tanks and bombers,
Without food, in hunger,
The news choked, silent!
But many hundreds
Of TVs, and papers,
Reflect a ‘Golden Hair,’
Getting injured, wounded!
Tsunami kills the world:
“He, the Ex-President!!!”
I call such governments:
“The shameless dragons,
Vampires and leeches!”
They live on our taxes,
We, the working people,
Pay with pores in sweat,
They party with friends!
Hope that you remember,
You called them savages,
For painting their faces,
And pierce on the chests.
Now you are a canvas,
Pierce is everywhere,
Eyebrows to noses,
Down to the clitoris.
Now, are you a savage?
Well, friends,
Think again!
Maybe there,
Far, near,
In the light,
Or darkness,
I was born,
A slave!
Parents too,
Were slaves!
They were,
Forced,
Converted,
By axes,
To the faith,
Of masters!
They lived in,
Stables as cages,
Called it “Home,”
Made borders,
And nations!
Maybe I,
Was bundled,
And then sent,
On the beak,
Of a bird!
Was I born,
In a nest,
On the land,
In the water,
In a curvy river,
On a branch,
By mountains?
Opened eyes,
In the cave?
In the light?
In darkness?
Was I born?
Like a bat?
Dragon?
Vampire?
A condor?
A vulture?
Who am I?
Who was then?
Who made me?
What purpose?
Can we find,
An answer,
A reason?
Am I not,
A particle,
In the dust,
In the clouds,
Less than fog,
Feel worthless!
Will ever,
I learn what,
I learn why,
I learn how,
And for what?
On the wing,
Of the wind,
Go around,
One circle!
Nihilism?
Nothingness?
The questions,
Add darkness,
Have always,
They torture,
Consciousness!
I stood and stared,
At Robin’s copper chest,
Pictured its blue eggs,
A few, hatched, chickens.
With great wings and tail,
Observed the right and left,
When it found me harmless,
Jugged and went right ahead.
Then stopped, raised its head,
A message? Received? Sent?
And repeated the same,
Many times, and again!
Finally dipped its beak,
Used it as a sharp pick,
Dug into the grass, and
It repeated until…
Found the prey in hiding,
Sharpshooter smartly,
Held a worm in winding,
Robin left me thinking:
What is life?
You tell me,
To be born?
Then dying?
Next prey?
The robin?
Who eats it?
And its chicks?
No reply came to me,
I whispered in silence:
“I find it beyond me!”
Disagree with science’s logic!
I enjoy getting lost in the myths!
Both groups had feathers,
Can I call them cousins?
At my job, I observed,
Some crows, and eagles.
First, flew, hopped, and sat,
Both alone, and in mass.
On garbage, in the trash,
On the wall, on a branch,
In the yards, plain lands…
The second flew high,
They circled in the sky.
I stood silently,
My jaw fell, kept looking,
Full of joy, was pleased.
The crows, suspicious,
And proud were eagles.
Saw crows picking junk,
But eagles waited long.
At the end, one of them,
Descended like a plane.
In no time, it climbed,
I felt shocked, surprised,
It had a fish in its claws.
The prey, fresh, alive,
Kept fighting for its life,
It struggled with all might.
Felt bubbles in my veins,
My questions unanswered:
“Can one be right, or wrong?
Seeking a life? Wanting pride?”
I was in Staples,
They received,
My papers.
Then asked me:
“Sign here,
‘Staples is free,
Is not responsible,
If anything happens!’”
The poor things,
Need the job,
Work, labor,
Dig graves,
For others,
And themselves,
Just to serve,
Their masters!!!
They remain,
Unaware,
The masters,
Are vultures,
Though smile,
Foxy wait,
And plan,
To milk the,
Customers!
In your life,
Be honest,
Think again.
Do not sell,
Your friends,
Or any client.
The masters,
Are foxes,
Are vultures,
Vampires…
I wish I was a goose,
With feather,
Could fly in the air,
And swim in the water,
And slouch on the earth.
Want to sharpen my pen,
Then use it as a dagger,
Let me be the first victim!
Am tired,
Am ashamed,
Silence is a partner,
To crimes taking place,
No more can sit idle,
I have sharpened my pen,
And will fight to the death!
Joan Baez, Bob Dylan.
Singers of Woodstock,
Students on campuses,
Let us rise, rise again.
Filled my pen with blood,
Poisoned and topped up,
As we won the sixties,
Can repeat that indeed,
With no to the White House,
We helped save Vietnam.
Yes, true, I am old,
On current I am cork,
But still, have my pen,
And the lion roars again.
Yes, enough is enough,
Silence the bullet-bomb,
Let us sing, let us dance,
Repeat the John Lennon’s:
“Imagine there’s no heaven,
People are living for today.”
I do shout and will shout:
“Down with the corruptions,
And those who sell weapons,
To the mean and evil dictators.”
Early in the morning,
Laborers were working,
Arrived a car, the police,
A short sound of a siren,
Made me pay attention,
To some tents erected.
The tenants were homeless,
Must have been well aware,
Of the laws’ enforcement…
Reached out for camera,
Took a few photographs,
Men, women, did, did not,
Care for the police-laws,
Were slow like currents,
Behind a dam or a curve.
Far beyond two hours,
Took them till went away.
The homeless didn’t care,
For the time and place.
In their eyes, their faces:
“Wonder why am here?
Well, there is a reason,
That is, you, you people,
Yes, you who never care,
For me, call us worthless!”
I stood and observed,
Their motion, behavior,
Their lagging reactions.
Boiled blood in my veins,
Like a kettle with bubbles,
Felt my nerves unsettled,
Pains grew in my neck,
So, whispered in silence:
“Can we expect respect?”
No one is worse to Trump than Trump,
He threw his friends under the bus,
Now he must pay the price…
Quite lost, lost, I feel,
When hear Anti-Semitic,
Know anti, so, no need,
Search for the latter piece.
Being sweet or bitter,
Must go on with research.
Semitic people or the Semites,
Have roots in Africa, Ethiopia,
And to some, the Middle East,
Akkadians, and Phoenicians,
Including Arabs, and Jews.
So, what is hate speech?
What is this ownership?
Only by one of these?
I, neither am Arab,
Nor Phoenician,
Or Akkadian!
I, a simple person,
In love with beauty,
Kindness and equality,
Am against insulting,
Injustice, cruelty,
As well as depriving,
The Arab, Phoenician,
Even the Akkadians,
From their ownership,
Of being Semitic.
Therefore, as I can see,
Being Anti-Semitic,
Includes hate-speech,
Against the Palestinians.
Students, youngsters,
All around the universe,
I am with you, let’s speak.
Dan called me with the news:
“Had a deal and pleaded guilty!”
It was all about Jim,
“Has lost right to drive,
Curfewed and confined,
Total of eighteen months!”
“But he is innocent…”
I mentioned, then silenced.
I know what has happened,
Politicians, Governments,
These ugly mean devils,
Pocket good salaries,
And enjoy positions,
But soldiers,
Poor soldiers,
Mostly young,
Some elders,
Are ordered, sent to war,
Kill, injure, or reverse…
If ever they return,
In a body of some shape,
Come without the brain,
Memories perpetuate,
Then, doctors, hospitals,
Check on the trauma:
“War’s effect!”
Jim looks well,
Six feet tall,
And above,
Good looking…
He cannot leave his house,
Just because of the war,
Collapsed the USSR,
And broke Yugoslavia,
Jim was sent to stop genocide!
“Wander? Yes! But not lost…”
Said the tattoo on her arm.
So great, short, concise,
Sounds like the prophets.
Yesterday, Saturday,
The Apr twentieth,
I worked long,
For two-thirds of the day,
Drove for two hours.
Bear in mind my life, age,
Close to four decades,
Among the seniors,
Many say: “Retire,”
My answer is simple:
“Retarded retires!”
I believe a person,
Has body and brain,
As one and separate,
Both must work,
Should be fed,
The result is simple,
Live healthy forever.
Yesterday was a sample.
The soles of my feet hurt,
Are burning with the pain,
Thanks to those long hours.
And I talk with my feet:
“Better to be in pain,
Than lying sick in bed,
Or being in the hands of,
Some sort of caretaker,
Who wishes that you die,
And gets his, or her hand,
On what is left for heirs.
Anyway…
I was told the job is:
“Khalsa,” but were wrong,
Sikhs called it ‘Vaisakhi.’
I, as a graduate in cultures,
Had arrived with questions,
Asked many in their tongue,
(Even if not perfect.)
Most of Sikhs shied away,
Were aloof, unaware,
Some gave me more details.
Had a camera, its lens long,
When I could, went around,
Joked with them and nicely,
Constantly asked questions.
Saw their eyes, their faces,
Talk of me, my accent,
As if they admired:
“Who are you?
You speak in our language?”
Of course, I do confess,
Yes, I have selfishness,
Enjoyed the compliments.
Learned little about both,
The Vaisakhi, and Khalsa,
But neither was enough…
I was born near them,
Therefore, see the cultures,
Of Iran, India,
To Turkey and Iraq,
Central Asia…
I enjoy all of them,
Easily can feel them,
Same parents’ children,
Look-alikes, different!
Parents died and faded,
Their heirs or children,
Pruned the old cultures.
Had gone with my lights on,
And returned with lights on.
On my way listened to,
Billions of Dollars,
For Taiwan, Israel,
And Ukraine!
Who can be the payers?
Whose money?
And what is the purpose?
Kept thinking about it:
“I work hard, pay taxes,
Some people, or devils,
Some dirty politicians
Holding chairs, positions,
Are the vultures, leeches,
In castles, palaces,
On islands far away,
They use my foolishness,
Behave as if generous,
Not for a good purpose,
Not to help an injured,
Not to for un-prosperous,
Not to add to comfort,
Of women, children,
Not roof for displaced,
Eradicating disasters,
But total, in reverse,
They invest in murder,
Genocide, bloodshed,
Expand the armaments,
Support the arms makers,
Cause the wars to access,
Always, in most chances,
To support each other,
Think about the UN,
Without and with Pekin,
Who brought the changes?
Think of Paks, the Afghans,
Then the war in Ukraine!!!”
We live in Canada,
Are perfect in the talks,
And avoid working hard,
We talk and, talk and talk!
Here, in Canada,
A large dish for a bite,
The décor well-designed.
Let’s listen to the talks:
“I worked and he did too,
As did the girl you liked!”
We live in Canada,
Paperwork is too much,
We follow the bureaucrats!
Though we are far advanced,
We seem to go right back,
To when ruled the autocrats.
Then, rulers and owners,
Of the time pretended,
Loyalty and respect.
“Fool the King,
His kingdom,”
Was the rule,
Of the game!
To pay the price of a plot,
You had to learn to bow,
Or marry the daughter of,
A person who had bowed.
“Of course, your Majesty,
You own the oceans, seas,
And the Earth, everything.”
We are heirs, and received,
Blabber, bootlicking…
Life is not only the,
Being air-carrier,
Inhaling to exhale.
Life is far beyond it,
Having heart,
Hands, legs, feet.
Not only to pick,
Walk,
Circulate the blood.
Life can be explained,
In many variants,
Colors; races, genders.
Life is like a painting,
The sky and ocean,
Captured on a canvas.
Life is so vast that I,
Can never cover all,
Like a kind criminal.
What is life?
What is life?
What is life?
This puzzle,
Is unsolved!
Read Rumi and Khayyam,
Read Hitler and Cezar,
To reach Jean Paul Sartre!
Tick marking the crimes,
Makes laser, focused light,
That shows us many names,
All Rabbis, Popes, mullahs,
What can be this living?
Air in-out, breathing?
Have you heard:
“He melted,”
About a human?
Won’t you ask:
“Who? Where? Why?”
And ‘Whom?’ ‘How?’
When? What cause?
He said so,
A soldier,
Peacemaker!
It was in Bosnia,
This is what he has done,
On alert, walked around,
With peer, machineguns!
Exact words of soldier:
“We shot him, he melted!”
Was brave, risked his life,
Became active soldier,
For saving the defenseless.
In front, not too far,
Someone had scrolled.
Peacekeepers got scared,
Thought of him as a rebel,
With a gun to kill them!
Therefore, they acted first,
And this is what happened:
“We shot him, he melted!”
Too rich with compassion,
Matching mines, treasures,
Committed some murders:
“We shot him, he melted!”
Wonder where to start,
Whom from?
The Khakham?
Or mullahs?
Or Abram?
All liars, all Kadhdhbas!
The man sells his sister,
To Egyptian soldiers,
She became pregnant,
At that age?
Believe lies???!!!
And the Jews,
Christians,
And Muslims,
Believe in Yahweh!?
Are they mad, or drunk?!!!
Let’s forgive Abraham,
For his foolish crimes!
If true, which is not,
Bought the land in Canaan,
Did he pay the price?
Or killed by genocide?
Forgive him once again!
What about his two sons?
The Arabs, Israelites!?
And they fight,
Shed blood,
Why should we pay the price!?
Israel’s Minister, Benjamin,
And the mad Ali Khamenei,
Both selfish, murderers,
Why should we pay the price!?
Strange to my ears,
I heard the ‘Shenanigan!’
Now, I know, means Mischief,
She used it against the...
Used the word because she,
Meant to kick Selina!
Who are they?
What is there?
They, both, are selfish girls,
Were spoiled from birth.
One’s mother, officer,
For the jails, prisons!
Read the rest by yourself!
Selina, too, pampered,
Her father was absent.
Read the rest by yourself!
Now, the two, like eagles,
Keep fighting to the death.
Selina, all alone,
No friends, without arms!
Daughter of the jailer,
Has close connections.
Wonder how the mother,
Trained, taught her daughter!
She had learned from jails,
Good and bad, corruptions:
“Succeed with connections,
With no need for knowledge!”
I, unlike most others,
Speak with the fire…
I speak with the wood,
I speak with flames.
I look at the colors,
Smoky, yellow, red.
I watch the sparkles,
And speak with ashes.
I feel and empathize,
With burning branches.
I cry for charcoal,
Taking its last breath.
I extend my hands but,
Not only to warm up.
I start to talk with,
The skies, in anger.
Why the hell?
Why the hell?
Why the hell?
Then I join Mother Earth,
Together shed tears:
“Why the hell?”
“Why the hell?”
“Why the hell?”
Why burn and destroy?
Why so much selfishness?
Why burn and destroy?
Why so much selfishness?
Why the hell?
Why the hell?
At times words,
The words used for others,
Penetrate and settle,
Like the word ‘Displaced!’
If sleep many nights,
Deep in a melting pot,
Some forget, unaware,
But few are conscious,
That they are displaced!
Joe is my best friend,
His blood and Vigen’s,
Are from the same vein.
They crossed the borders,
Both were born Iranians,
Though Vigen was aware,
Unaware is the latter…
Yes, Joe is the latter,
His skin, eye color,
Show from far away.
What about children,
From my children?
Will they know about me?
Or my ex, their mother?
I think of displaced,
When talk of Joe, Vigen!
I think of displaced,
With Natives in Reserves!
I think of displaced,
Africans caught, slaved!
I think of displaced,
When cross the borders!
The day is, Saturday,
I remain in my bed,
Half-open are blades.
Enjoy life’s pleasures,
Sing the birds in chorus,
One perch by the feeder!
Contents of the feeders,
Vary, are different,
In one mix of sunflower.
Focus on that bird’s tail,
Is like a fan, and tainted,
In sunray, golden shades.
The naughty bird, vigilant,
Acts as if is a commander,
Soon, attack their brigades.
I lie down, keep silent,
Full of joy, and observe,
Blood wine, I am a vase.
With each cell must praise,
The patience, tolerance,
When endless like oceans.
“Look at them, look at them,”
Someone seems to whisper:
“Don’t ever complain…”
For minutes and hours,
Watch, adoring nature,
The season’s flowers.
Yes, it is Saturday,
Have no work for today.
I relax in my way,
With my thoughts, images.
I dreamt I was dead,
No blood in my veins,
No flesh, without nerve!
Was graced in a grave,
Around me Great Earth,
Quiet with silence…
Silence was the ruler,
No walker, all absent,
No one there to bother.
Only the bones were left,
With no joint, scattered,
Without a bed, blanket…
Suddenly heard a chirp,
Some spoke, a whisper:
“This grave is ancient!”
The pick hit, came shovel,
Sides broke with hammers,
They removed my cover!
Broke bone to pieces,
A few cleaned them,
Stored them far away,
From my resting place!
The younger to older,
Came and went,
Men, women,
Students, professors,
And the last, an expert,
Explained what happened.
Archeologists, like others,
Were fully mistaken,
Took me back to ages,
Time of life in the cave,
I smiled, puffed laughter!
I am lost,
Lost behind,
Looks of eyes,
Looks of minds,
Looks of thoughts.
Their schools!
Their science!
And the faiths!
Look at them,
Look at eclipse!
Want to write a poem,
Shove it into bottle,
Like the concise letter,
Written by the lover,
And sealed into bottle,
Left to waves of ocean,
Found near Vancouver.
What about the content?
Poverty? Wilderness?
Oppressor? Or oppressed?
Censorship? Religions?
The priests? Prophets?
Efforts for freedom?
I have been, will always,
Questioning, and question:
“Is from? Goes to where?”
Our life is reaction,
Our life is reaction,
Our life is reaction,
Nothing more,
Nothing less,
All, action-reaction!
Want to write a poem,
Insert it in bottle,
Deposit with the waves,
And the tides of oceans:
“Be careful and honest,
Hand it to future…”
In my concise letter I,
Want to write about love,
When is lacked, its excess,
When beloved, by lovers,
And hardship, and suffer,
And hopes and dreams of,
The homeless cart pushers,
Bombmakers, displaced…
Wonder if I steal,
Am I a thief?
Or lover?
Are they not,
All the same?
The lovers,
Wish the best,
But somehow,
For themselves!
“My lady,
Delilah,
Juliet,
Shireen,
Or Leila,”
And others,
Lots of them!
I look for,
Ascension,
In space,
Looking down,
At the Earth,
A nothing,
In darkness…“
Then question:
“Who am I?”
Have value?
Like diamond?
Like a pearl?
What are they?
What are they if we are,
Nothingness in darkness?
Miss Hallaj,
Miss Attar,
Miss Rumi,
And others!
Who am I?
She speaks,
And he too,
Yes, it hurts!
She, Afghan,
He is White!
She sought job,
He, her boss.
Sex? No sex?
What went on?
I listen,
Stay mum!
The shameless powerful,
Use lying, burning books,
And their God as a hook!
Is it not noose for fools?
If ever you go out,
From room to backyard,
Or too far from the house.
If you see some tree(s)
With tiny green leaves,
Buds, petals in falling.
If they are violet,
Or whitish, as if dead,
Tightly joined, spread,
Be humble, stop there,
Politely ask their name.
Stand there like I do,
Lost in love, excited,
Inhaling the moments.
If are shy, heads to chests,
If are sad and silent,
If alone, together,
Be my good messenger,
Say: “Hello,” and observe.
See their buds?
Small? Large?
Flowers?
Dead? Alive?
See the shades of color?
Snow white? Violet?
Some speak with heaven,
Some look at final bed,
On green and lush earth,
Or going with the wind,
To end up under feet…
Yet, still, don’t forget,
Make sure, be messenger,
Yes, tell them, I love them.
I read the article,
Many times, and again,
And it makes me wonder:
“The Mother! Kidnapper?”
Then ponder,
Want answer,
Not from a paper,
Nor from the judges!
Carrying for nine months,
And giving birth to child,
Being called kidnapper?!
Is she not the mother?
Can she be kidnapper?
Looking deep inside me,
Turn my head to the wall,
Feel ashamed of such talk!
Is she not the mother?
Can she be kidnapper?
If she was next to me,
If ever comes to me,
Will not inform police,
Cause she is a mother,
Mothers loves children,
Far beyond the fathers,
Above the laws written.
Is she not the mother?
Can she be kidnapper?
The police officers,
Use hazard of amber,
They act as do puppets,
Stab back with dagger,
And shake a saltshaker,
On wounded, cut fresh!
Urmia, a known Great Lake,
Has lived with many names.
To me, she is a picture,
Reminds me of Roohi,
Also talks of others,
At the top sits Luther.
Once it was for tourists,
Water was medicine,
Many went swimming,
For fun and curing.
Now it is dead,
The wind howls,
No green, no deer,
‘No beauty’ is there!
The Salton Sea, I've heard,
Has been almost the same!
Wonder if by nature!
Or by the humans?
For years I tried to,
Defend and respect you,
I stood against the,
Insults that crushed you.
Today my head is down,
I accept every word,
That was said and I heard,
Bad comments, about you.
Genocide in Gaza,
Indicates who you are!
That is what I had heard:
“Good? Only if powerless!”
I took you as friends,
When you had no power,
You ain't my brothers,
No more we are friends,
Our friendship is dead!
Leave me and go away,
Aim to make a fire,
With your books,
I must burn all of them,
Together with your faith!
Your heaven is the hell,
Wise follows the wisdom,
I leave you and your kind,
Whatever you have done!
My talk is not of hate,
It highlights my anger,
Gave you seeds, branches,
From bags and gardens,
Also, farms and orchards,
You poisoned the harvest,
Distance me from them…
Too early,
Is morning.
In the rain,
The road wet,
Sport shoes,
Tights, she wears.
Visible
Her calf, thighs,
Right butt size.
Rain jacket,
Covers head,
With hoody…
Dog, doll-like,
Sibling to a fox,
A kind of brownish,
A shade of light to dark.
Venus in beauty,
Beige-cream,
Of mohair, or woolly,
Though in leash,
It walks with dignity.
“Who walks who?”
I whisper…
Gordon, too, like Allan,
Is Native, First Nation.
They are named after the,
Mean killer invaders,
And greedy looters,
Oppressing Settlers,
And enforced by churches.
These two are not alone,
Plenty are around.
Those who once felt ashamed,
Left their homes and wandered.
For many, many years,
They have been insulted,
Lips, fingers, targeted:
“…Indians, savages!”
Now they have, finally,
Learned to speak aloud,
Confident and proud:
“I belong to…tribe...”
I was born, also raised,
Far from croissants.
But here where I live,
I find it good-looking,
And enjoy eating it.
The question is:
“How to eat?”
The answer is funny!
Check it on YouTube,
None of the videos,
Even one,
Comes from the makers,
Or makers’ locations,
Where was found, started.
Worms crawl,
Robins hunt,
Life goes on.
Mankind came,
Pesticide, sprayed,
Killed the worms,
Robin-kinds migrated.
Ouch and ouch!
Yes, nothing has remained,
But grass and golf carts!
Ouch and ouch!
I avoid the doctors,
Doctors talk of cancer,
And other disorders,
Then pills and injections.
Want to be unaware,
Of diseases, sickness,
Prefer mindlessness,
Prefer blindness,
And dumbness,
And deafness,
To the talks of doctors!
I rather lay in bed,
Like a child,
Breastfed,
Hugged and kissed,
And pampered,
Cradled under care,
Sleeping in silence.
Then, one day,
A friend calls to say,
To others, another:
“Have you heard?
He is dead…”
Full stop,
That is the end!
A crow cawed and cawed,
Came crowds of crows,
Flapped wings,
Flew, jumped,
Cawed and cawed,
Declared war:
“Who dared to steal eggs?
Take our eggs?”
With its big reddish eyes,
An owl was in its nest,
Sheltered in a very old tree.
It listened to the caws,
Checked its chest,
Saw its eggs,
Hatched, unhatched, still there.
Owl smiled,
Then whispered:
“Look at them,
These bandits,
Ugly thieves,
The robbers,
Stealing everything,
These truly bandits.”
Then smiled,
In its thoughts:
“They eat eggs,
Eat chickens,
Fish, seashells,
Without shame,
Yet claim…”
It rolled eggs:
“Innocent?
You? Victim?”
But crows wore black,
Cawed, nodding to a wall!
She has killed her husband,
Using a knife in the kitchen,
Cut the part of his throat,
Shelter for the main veins.
She is one more victim,
Not a killer, a murderer!
Following my research,
Saddled firm, prepared,
Chose a path, direction,
Hit the road, went away.
“Closed,” was what I faced,
So, drove looked to search,
Encountered an angel,
She relaxed on some bench.
Siblings-like we spoke,
Broken her heart, bones,
Patient, kind, she crouched.
Did not mention Koran,
Abraham, nor Torah,
No word on the Troika!
She follows their Tayee,
The Great Sagalie Tayee,
Yahuwah? Or Holy Spirit?
I told her of my needs,
About the Chief, Pauline,
Of neither knew a thing,
Moon, tiger on the cliffs!
Instead, she told me,
Of her work, her writing,
Among them a poem…
“Sang to me the spirits,
Right before a court meeting,
Felt in pain, was scared of the jail.”
Katie has written this,
Must call it acrostic,
Soft, Frail, and Sweet!
Self-esteem is first to dream,
Underestimate it is such a drain,
Readily aware of the chance to come,
Victims we are no longer one,
If we choose, we must follow through,
Ventures we roam to places unknown,
Opening we are for all to see,
Rights we seek more knowledge we need,
Surprisingly yes, is truly me.
I have a small rug,
From Afghanistan,
I love this great art,
It speaks in silence,
Like ash in a furnace,
Speaks with the flame:
“Go and burn injustice!”
In downtown Toronto,
The Police on horses,
Wear yellowish jackets.
“Generously he wastes,
Our hardship and sweat,
That we pay with taxes!”
I shiver and question:
“Who trained Bin Laden?”
“And who made the Hamas?”
“Did you not? Yes, you did,
Therefore, why complain?”
You were booed by people,
You who live in the palace,
You help those like Hitler,
You order the soldiers,
And those in government:
“Send more aid to Gaza,
Not for old, children,
Hospitals, sick, injured,
But to help the killers!”
I heard the Westerners,
Talk of Houthis, Yemen,
And the Gazans, Arabs:
“If they kill it is wrong,
Our killing is correct!”
You copy your parents,
Auctioning the slaves,
In markets to be raped!
Those who know history,
Learn about politics,
And about empires,
Also, falls that they faced.
No doubt that all of them,
Died thanks to corruption.
Look at Rome, Persia,
And Japan and China,
As well as Britain,
And Tsars in Russia!
Which comes next?
When and where?
Here is the answer:
“The United States!
Her fall is on its way,
You witness if patient!”
Carry a bag filled with books,
Books, essays, and notebooks,
I walk to find a place and settle.
Read the books that I have,
Exclude the ‘Wasteland’…
‘Wasteland’ is a cannon,
Somehow like the Bible,
I dislike all the cannons,
The cannons are venom.
T. S. Eliot is a cannon,
His book is a cannon,
And both are poisons,
I see depth in neither!
I feel that they are dust,
Profs say they are rocks!
Why do the professors,
Universities and colleges,
Insist on praising them?
Why does the Media,
Follow every step,
As if a blind behind dog?
Did not Rudyard Kipling,
And Zhivago’s Pasternak,
Win their Nobel prize?
I see them as big toys,
That is, it, nothing more,
For Kaiser and John Bull,
Or maybe the new version,
‘Uncle Sam’s Washington!’
Why read them in textbooks?
Why Madonna in the church?
Why raise to the stratosphere?
Wasteland-likes, as is ‘If’,
Are brainwash acids…
And he came,
And stood,
Had some tools!
She stood very firm,
All her hands,
Horizontal, straight!
Raised his hand,
To reach her,
But he failed!
She, silent
And harmless.
He went, came,
With a ladder,
Cut one hand,
Tree's branch!
And I saw her tears!
And I saw her tears!
And I saw her tears!
She cried,
The tree!
I wondered,
I questioned!
No reply!
No answer!
Screen in my mind,
I watched a film,
A bare Earth!
Mankind is crazy!
Brainless,
Destroys everything,
Why are we so selfish
Her hair was like cotton,
Wet her pillow with tears.
Her whispers were dying:
“No returning husband,
We have a single child,
A daughter, that is all,
She does not have a child,
And has her menopause.”
Talked and whined,
On a sick or death bed:
“I will go as the second,
And can see the end of us!
”Repeating, she went on:
“He went and I will die,
She will leave after us,
No one left behind us,
This is the end of us…”
Inside went her breath,
And never came again!
What we felt was silence:
“This is the end of us!”
Being a filmmaker,
People look and wonder,
I leave my film half-way,
And put them on the shelf.
Listen my good friends,
Was watching Barabbas,
With the actor I love,
And observed lots of false!
The woman wears a bra,
Looked at her eyebrows,
And dress, and makeup,
And décors, background,
Mise-en-scene, all in all.
Then I looked at acting,
And the way of talking,
Cameras, their angles…
Found lights and animals,
Very bad, could be wrong.
Caravans, Caravanserais,
The shanties, floors, walls,
Pots and pans, lifestyle,
Of people in those times,
Are guesses, are not right!
I know that they tried,
Yet can say wasted time!
Having not seen such life,
With camels and caravans
Could be and is the cause.
That is why my pieces,
With, or without an actor,
Are sitting on the shelves,
And never will come out.
I may be able to,
Fool others, not myself!
Pauline Johnson, myself,
Are Half-breed children,
Indigenous, our fathers,
Mothers’ blood, invaders,
Such a life is grievance!
Our pain is complex,
Is a hell, yet simple,
And burns us all over.
Our fathers accepted,
The faiths of invaders,
Brought by our mothers,
Like the Esther-Relations.
Poor she, from Christians,
To the world I was Muslim.
My father, all his life,
Asked me to see Kaaba,
The house of Abraham.
He believed as was told:
Praised God’s prophets,
Abraham and Moses,
Then Jesus, Mohammad!
“My lovely, kind father,”
I did not dare mention:
“These lies are invented!”
Pauline and I act as twins,
Do not buy these fictions,
With a hero called Moses.
Abraham’s story,
And Sara, sister-wife,
Their school, Yeshiva,
Columns of Noah’s Ark,
Are foolish, are made up,
With their serpent and lies!
In one lovely night,
The couple were bright.
-I wish to have our child!
-I also, and why not?
Woman asked:
-And gender?
He replied:
-Like yourself, an angle.
She smiled, satisfied.
Staring at her eyes,
His soul left to fly,
Wander in galaxies,
Satellites he crossed,
And grabbed the stars.
Cherry-picked,
Plucked some…
Selina was born,
She is a grown-up.
Once a lad said to her:
-I know of your father,
He is a thief, a robber!
She, in shock, surprised:
-Explain when, how, why!
-He stole the stars,
Planted in your eyes!
After too many years,
She, still, remembers.
-I enjoyed the comment,
It is great, I love it…
I killed you, and felt sad,
I cut you, yet felt calm,
Burning you was all fun.
Your flames were great,
Liked your scent, fragrance,
Of you that filled the air.
After you killed again,
Then again, and again,
Your sisters, brothers…
Delicious is smell,
Of the ones I murder,
I want to kill again…
And again, and again!
Want to ignite fires,
From wood and tinder,
Therefore, cut to pieces,
Some trees, branches,
Collect leaves, make fire.
I like their fragrance,
Not from the gasses!
Yes, I am a murderer,
A serial killer…
List in hand went shopping,
Bread, yogurt, broccoli,
Olives, orange, and banana,
With cabbage and asparagus.
Suddenly soared my thoughts,
Lingered in Pacha-Mamma.
And we walked to Nazca,
(Home to the mystic lines,)
Entered farms of Co-ops.
The Blacks, imported by Spain,
Were forced to work, no rest,
Like the lizards in the sun,
The rulers saw slaves as horses.
My trip took place after years,
Long after the first slaves,
And kids of those slaves,
Even their children,
Parents of the descendants,
They lived like their ancestors!
Came to me, a hybrid, Latino,
Spanish speak the Mestizos:
“Tienen grand manos y pies!”
The Blacks plow as do oxen:
“En Las Vegas, Cuidarte!”
Here, we remain unaware,
Latino is our man, a hired,
To select, pack, and send,
The shipment by airplanes!
Tore apart asparagus’s paper,
Read the codes, I deciphered,
Came from the same place,
Felt the green in had faded,
Tasted bitterness of a venom!
For many, many years,
I went around, traveled,
Saw and checked places!
Read books, went visited,
Walked to find engraved,
Met bullies, encountered,
Abandoned were churches.
Entered the forts, castles,
And tens of the palaces,
They took me to a poem:
‘Mada’in,’ was a mirror.'
Lived a year in La Paz,
Place of peace, and calm,
Is not and hardly was!
There, a man, the Tupak,
Rebelled to seek his rights,
Stood firm, declared war!
He lost, was arrested,
And tied to four horses!
Each rider on the horse,
Rode to some direction,
To the North, to the South,
Others to East and West!
Imagine what happened,
For Tupak, shed tears…
Murderers, the riders,
Were soldiers of Spain,
Spain lost to the States!
These days the USA,
Has become old Spain,
She bullies and dictates,
Soon arrives our savior!
In our lives, you, and I
Differ by two letters,
You are T and I am W.
We are the examples,
Of comments of Davood,
My Jewish companion,
We climbed a mountain.
Between us a chasm,
You and I look the same,
But vary, are very different.
You have chairs,
In some U, colleges,
I live poor as a tenant.
For my food, clothing,
I need and am working,
Every day, every night.
I mingle with the people,
Travel here and there,
Touch their lives,
And observe…
You may read, if ever,
Only talk and converse,
Transfer what you guess,
Mostly the junk you hear,
Baseless, from an outsider!
To enter I risk the fire,
By land, sea, also air,
Meeting varied people,
Stay and dine with them,
In their shanties, trenches.
You, at home, rest, speak,
The chasm between us,
Is your ‘Talk!’ to my ‘Walk.’
I recall my eighteen,
In shock, kept crying:
“What if I, tomorrow,
Do something illegal?”
When ended seventeen,
I entered my eighteenth,
Nightmare, not a dream!
I sat with head on knees,
Afraid, sad, anxiously,
Had to answer questions!
But later, in the York,
Friend and classmate,
Said a lot about her,
Seventeen to eighteen,
I listened thoughtfully.
“Now, free and an adult,
Joined my boy in a bar,
We had shot after shots,
Drank till got drunk…”
“Spent time in the bed,
Rolled over and played,
Till no more was virgin!”
Happy was at the start,
Soon after pain arrived:
“Faulted me, my parents,
Barred me, no freedom,
Curfewed, not reasons,
So, I aimed for revenge,
Sold me and in that way,
Very cheap and never,
Could become a woman.”
I always keep thinking:
“Seventeen to eighteen,
Can a night be a magic?”
I forgive bees and wasps,
I forgive snakes, ants,
I forgive the wolves, cats,
But not the humans!
We walk tall, forward chest:
“We have the best of brains,
We know and own science,”
Our claims make oceans!!!
But,
Are we what we say?
My best gift and lesson
From the Westerners,
Has been, is:
“I don’t know,”
Even when didn’t know. When don’t know!
While in the Middle East,
My friends, the Persians,
And Arabs, and Turkic,
Male, female, old and young,
Gave answers to questions,
Covering everything.
Absent was one sentence:
“I don’t know,”
Even when didn’t know.
I stood, all amazed,
Kept looking straight,
At brush when moving,
Side to side, right to left.
Must have been crazy,
Or, maybe kind, caring,
To stand, keep watching,
Those workers brushing!
Saw the pegs and spikes,
Red, hugging, very tight.
When ended asphalting,
Some kept on cleaning,
By sweeping the streets.
I was on the sidewalk,
And stared at the brush.
Each motion, left to right,
Meant some pieces falling.
Either some bristles,
Or a few filaments,
Each was of plastic!
By mixing with the dust,
They dilute the farm life.
Silently I whispered:
“As I see now, here,
Mother Earth is a prey,
What will be after years?
Will any of our children,
Have the chance to enjoy,
The happy and natural life?”
The answer is, maybe,
With he, who is shouting:
“Drill baby, go and drill!”
Wonder if the cats, dogs,
Or any of the animals,
Domestic and the wild,
Ask about their genesis!
Mankind does,
Which blood?
Where from?
World of the Old Testament,
Talks of Noah and Abraham,
Israel’s ‘Ten Lost Tribes!”
Highlights the backgrounds!
Is this not a sickness,
On the Earth, all over,
Mestizos, Half-breeds,
And Mirza, and Métis?
I am one before the last!
We were born far away,
Both in time and place,
Our parents never met,
Not fathers nor mothers,
Yet, siblings we remain,
We were born to be hurt!
In our veins run blood,
Is a mix, is victimized,
Colonizers, colonized!
Some call us mix-blood,
Some call us, half-bloods,
Some call us the hybrids,
Some Mirza, some Metis.
It feels like being a dog,
Poodle with greyhound,
Middle-sized, cute, rich,
But neither that nor this!
As age soars, years add up,
We get old, sick, and numb.
In such years of old age,
Maybe, and possibly,
One part is best managed.
That is some sly and, sleazy,
The wet, red, ugly tongue.
Most of us, in old age,
Keep sending the brain,
To the longest vacations.
With muscles, numb, absent,
And heart, hands, powerless,
Each tongue is Scheherazade,
Speaking around the clock,
For a thousand and one night.
Heroes and the heroines,
Are made, set by its wish!
Limitless, talks and talk,
It dictates, fabricates,
Mostly, lies, exaggerates!
Puts a prince on a horse,
Sends it to a rugged road,
To find love with success.
I live in soaring years,
Studying my peers,
We are, all, but useless,
We enjoy and love to say:
“I was so, when younger,
Opposed the corruption,
By coated the badasses…”
We are sick, unaware,
We bluff bottomless!
I, as a bird watcher,
Silently, motionless,
Stand in the corner,
Just stare to observe.
Look at the legs, feathers,
Study their actions,
Through their behaviors…
Some go to birdfeeders,
Some plow, are pickers,
Some love sunflowers,
Masterly break shells.
And I watch,
And I watch.
Like those using drugs,
Ignoring life, close eyes,
On what may go around,
Just enjoy and keep calm.
Think about the spring,
The mating and nesting,
Sharing when parenting.
Said no to the shoppers,
Medicines, ambulance,
Specialists and doctors.
Only soft music,
Symphony of their wings,
And reading, researching,
With, without the public…
So, I am nothing else,
Beyond a bird watcher.
I listen to Sylvia Plath,
She recites her poems.
With her voice,
With her words,
I travel too far,
To unknown…
On my way I see,
My professor,
She, who set alight,
In me a light…
She who made me:
“Write, write!”
And I listened,
And I have done.
Over seven thousand!
O’ You, Uppal,
The abandoned,
The selfish,
The proud…
Unlike the musicians,
The band that sings:
“Like to be a millionaire,
To be another Rockefeller!”
“But Rockefeller?”
I want to shout:
“Caused many deaths,
The Paraguayans,
And the Bolivians,
In Chaco…
I feel reciting the “Daddy,”
In the way I did for her,
Priscilla Uppal, Professor!
All my life I have been,
Must remain till the end,
Till the Big Bang reverses,
On the road as a traveler.
When I die, forget if,
Death does not accept if.
Throw me in the ocean,
Or in a sea, or the rivers,
I must join the currents.
All my life I have been,
Must remain a traveler.
If by chance can’t do that,
Burn me and take my ash,
Allow wind or breeze,
Fly me to the mountains,
And deserts and the plains.
I told them of my wish.
All my life I have been,
Must remain a traveler.
All my life I have been,
Must remain a traveler.
First, Gina hated me,
She felt I would steal,
Clever, knew thieves.
Honestly, she was right,
I was there for ‘Gala.’
The two were old friends,
My girl was her master,
Gina was the house pet.
Oh, Gina, the wise cat,
The jealous, smart cat!
After years, at a time,
I heard that Gina died.
For me, she still lives,
In my mind, memory,
Somehow, is lingering.
Few days, at the start,
She tore my pajamas.
Every hole in my pants,
Drives me to the past,
To the days that the cat,
No more was an enemy,
But a friend and buddy.
Memories and stories
Make mankind history,
To amuse and to teach,
The cultures we are in,
Possibly, we lived with,
Or the days that will be.
One of such is of girls,
Feared of being raped,
To escape life in shame,
Uniquely fell to death.
Driving at the edge,
Canada, the USA,
Saw Natives,
Snow, ice, and deer,
Flew birds, blizzards.
Asked about the border,
“Do you mean barrier?”
One of them asked,
Questioned…
So, we sat as friends,
Opened hearts and conversed,
About today, old ages…
The Brits and Yankees,
Relations and fighting,
Agree to disagree…
Then agree to agree,
On a line dividing!
Raised his hand a Native:
“Over there, do you see?”
He said and looked at me:
“Lives a big part of me…”
Then, he said, explained:
“Divisions? On what base?”
Did they have permission?
Then, he left the rest to me…
“They tell me to obey the law,
To respect the courts, judge,
Tell me why, why should I?”
Said native and others,
To confirm, said “Hooray,”
I wonder: “Whose laws are!”
Mother Earth is in bed,
Under a white blanket,
Made of ice and snow...
Randomly saw people,
Those outside,
Walked a dog or nibbled.
But I was crazy,
Carried lens and camera.
It snows, blizzard,
I stare at my birds,
To forget, I’m tired,
Of wars of humans!
My mother is nature,
When it lacks humans,
These greedy demons,
These mean and brutal,
Bloodsucking vampires!
Look at her on stage,
(The singer O'Connor,)
Is ripping a picture…
That is long before the,
Fact-finding-First Nations,
Of the Scooped children…
War and war and murder,
Genocides, Bloodsheds,
Led by faith, religion!
I look deep and remain,
The searcher for reason,
For the birds' arrival,
To her, tearing a picture.
First is need, and escape,
For the food, of hunger.
And second is to care,
For the harmed children,
By Pope and his leaders!
Cure and medicine,
To avoid this sickness,
Easily can be found,
In passion, in kindness,
Give little food, shelter,
Live, let live with justice.
He who works in Hydro,
Used to be a hobo.
He told me in person,
Wants it all said, written,
I offered him good help.
“I lend you a recorder,
Supply a transcriber,
You tell the story,
Just speak, orally,
Leaving the rest to me,”
I said since I could see,
A young child growing.
Born into a big family,
Fourteen were siblings,
Found himself drinking,
Till became some Hobo,
Vagabond and homeless.
Now? Not a single shot,
Of any alcohol…
His two teeth in the front,
From the lower jaw,
Have fallen and are gone,
Giving way to define???
“I slept for three days,
Rolled inside a carpet,
Because of heavy rain,
And once was frozen,
In the icy snow, away,
All alone with myself,
Waiting for my friends.”
Now, he rants, complains,
Against the government,
And the lazy people…
Then we were a million,
Maybe less,
Animals, billions,
Prosperity and freedom.
Now, we are billions,
So-called beasts,
Are far less,
Miserable, all are caged.
Years ago, when people,
Inside the USA,
Made guns and jet planes,
As weapons, armaments,
For killing the cultures,
That differed the Yankees’,
And broke barriers,
In the name of science,
Sent soldiers as experts,
My father,
Used his hands,
In the farms to plant,
Trees, crops, vegetables…
“My children,” he lectured:
“Share your love with people,
Give them food and water.”
He was the first person,
Who brought the tree,
Of a fruit, strange,
And showed to people,
People of our village.
It was a persimmon,
The tree grew tall,
It carries memories,
Of a man, kind, sweet,
Generous, and giving,
Always first in helping.
Persimmon’s leaf, skin,
Its shape and coloring,
Its flesh, and its meat,
Keep telling stories…
And I think of Ukraine,
Of Gaza, and elsewhere,
And Yemen, and Suez,
And the Houthi pirates,
Seek a branch of Olive.
Tired of shopping malls,
Went to buy spinach,
Straight from the farm.
“Go and pick what you want,”
Said the seller, he was kind.
Looked at the green lanes,
They were like prayers,
Of the Muslims and church.
Suddenly heard a sound,
Was scared, looked around,
Saw clouds and sky,
No one else, just no one!
Talked to me spinach:
“Don’t be fooled by my look!”
It revealed: “My contents,
Are no more like parents’,
The chemicals of farmers
Brought change to our faith,
We are modern, converted!”
Some wonder why I say what I say,
To me, they are people tied to chairs,
Who observe the shadows as the real,
The mannequins, duplicate, brainless,
Residing in the cave, Plato’s!!!!
I, as a bird watcher,
Silently, motionless,
Stand in the corner,
Just stare to observe.
Look at the legs, feathers,
Study their actions,
Through their behaviors…
Some go to birdfeeders,
Some plow, are pickers,
Some love sunflowers,
Masterly break shells.
And I watch,
And I watch.
Like those using drugs,
Ignore and close eyes,
On what may go around,
Just enjoy and keep calm.
Think about the spring,
The mating and nesting,
Sharing when parenting.
Said no to the shoppers,
Medicines, ambulance,
Specialists and doctors.
Only soft music,
Symphony of their wings,
And reading, researching,
With, without the public…
So, I am nothing else,
Beyond a bird watcher.
On the October seventh,
I was filled with anger,
On my cheeks two rivers.
Hating the massacrers,
The rapists, torturers,
Raised a fist in the air!
I shouted, and shouted,
Against the attackers,
Supported the victims.
As the days departed,
Each after the other,
I followed and listened,
Every word that I heard.
Said the Jewish minister:
"We fight to eliminate!"
That took me to the Bible,
Esther, the Old Testament.
The queen of Persians,
Sounds very complex!
Who was the Mordecai?
Her cousin or uncle?
Was he not Ex-husband?
How did he help Esther?
How did they foil a plot?
The Bible says it wrong,
When defining Haman!
General is not a Vizier,
Officers must defend,
The kingdom and people,
So, we see used/abused,
"Eliminate, Exterminate!"
Can I be the righteous heir,
To that lovely poet?
By blood, an Armenian,
Karo was an Iranian.
Recited his poem, as a child,
Then, a young schoolboy won a prize.
Indebted to him I,
Doubtlessly must remain good, loyal.
In tunnels of darkness,
He, to me, has been a torch to shed light.
Like the sun in the sky,
Gave light to satellites, halo to North Star.
To him, I was a jar,
And filled me to the brim, without a top.
But in his final years,
Sad, wrote to the presidents,
Of Yankees, the U of S:
“Please stop the bloodshed!”
As his loyal, righteous heir,
Traveled to Ukraine,
Saw buildings broken,
And thousands of pictures,
Of people, old, infants.
They are killed by bombshells,
For the sins not committed.
Like Karo,
Looked at East and Putin,
Looked at West to Biden,
With red eyes, shed tears,
Kept sobbing and shouted:
“Please stop the bloodshed!”
For many, many years,
A thousand, or thousands,
Lived while loathed, insulted.
Now are jewels in the crown,
In the world, all around…
I can be a long gone,
But for sure, there is a time,
For those of Palestine…
After lies, the woman,
Took the child, set blame,
On her poor partner.
He,
Cries night and day,
Begging her to return,
Unite and celebrate.
She took her, ran away,
After had complained:
“My man is dangerous!”
The baby, parents say:
“Suffers from autism.”
“She is a beast, a cheater,”
A colleague said, declared:
“Ignore her and leave her!”
The woman, possibly,
As says a shared friend:
“Holds Satan in herself.”
As does a secret agent,
Had written, delivered,
Yet, slept in his arms…
Not a word, to let time,
Take the file to a judge,
Complaints to be read:
“My man is dangerous,
Can kill me or our child!”
“Was bullied as a child,
No one cared, I, alone,
Suffered, hid, and cried,”
Says father with red eyes.
What about the little girl?
It is a mess or a paradox!
I recall the old days,
Was a guest, invited.
The food was delicious,
Almost licked the plate.
With the same I was fed,
Day after day, for days.
Made me sick, mentally,
And puked, physically!
Feel the same with news,
Academia and the books.
They insist and want us,
To believe: “The truth!”
“You never disbelieve,
It happened to the poor…”
At the start, it sounds right,
But the pot boils the doubt!
Their brand is “Anti…”
Pressure mothers lie!
Most dress for the party,
But head for the robbery!
History explains,
Shows many dictators,
Bowed to and respected,
While they were in power!
Thanks to enforced censor,
Political enforcement,
The serf hides, pretends,
Yet, wears a sharp dagger,
Underneath his garments,
Until comes the darkness!
Coffee mug in my hand
I stand…
Stare at the feeders,
Keep looking at the birds,
Music fills the air…
I enjoy what have heard,
Of ‘Mullah Mammad Jan,’
With a great love affair.
I think and thoughts fly,
To distance, too, too far,
To a time when Incas,
Ruled as if they were God,
I recall the city of ‘Ollantay.’
Think of that general,
And Cusi Coyllur,
Story of their love.
Come many stories,
Like Shirin and Farhad,
Like Majnoon, and Leyla,
Romeo, Juliet…
To this time when return
Feel dislike, sort of hate!
Everyone talks of sex,
Boyfriend, girlfriend,
Sleeping together…
Where went love,
Those lovers?
Sacrifice, lion’s heart?
Feel lonely, abandoned,
In the world of ego and greed,
Love, romance, are my needs,
Amuse me with birds and music.
Was I four? Seven’s half?
I had goats, baby lams,
To me they
All, dear, toys, and games.
I fed them until fall,
They grew to be large.
They played our old game,
And hit me, I was hurt,
I escaped to stop,
Was weak and unable…
But still,
In my heart,
I love them,
Loved them all.
I went out and returned,
Saw my dad with a knife,
And hated my father,
It was red with blood.
From then and after,
I hate the murderers.
I hate the murderers,
Who? And what?
Regardless!
I hate the murderers,
If killing the mankind,
Or the beasts, any bird.
I hate to nurture hate,
But in me, grow hate,
I hate the murders,
When victims,
Are little children,
Or pregnant women,
Refugees displaced!!!
Now and then,
Here, there,
I stop a little,
Concentrate,
Bend and lift,
Pieces of plastic.
I hear Mother Earth:
“Son, help me!”
Soon, will go to Auschwitz,
Yearn to converse, engage,
With their bones and skins!
In my company, I carry,
Images of innocent babies,
Enveloped in green shrouds.
I long to summon the departed,
The wounded, the tormented,
Pose to them my inquiries.
"Be merciful, reveal to me,
The tales of those harrowing days,
Were you, too, corralled and
Crushed, left to perish...?"
Then, I might inquire:
"Do the echoes of your spirits,
Perceive the unfolding events,
Propelled by the Israelites?"
I anticipate their responses:
"Those people are not our kin,
They align with the confidants of
SS and that infamous mustache..."
I acknowledge the lingering souls,
Pure, radiant as saints with halos,
Innocents are woven with a glow.
They may sense chagrin:
"They replicate what Hitler once did,
We stand apart from their ilk!"
In unison, they and I will concur:
"Regardless of the perpetrators,
Be they brigands or butchers,
Perpetrators of genocide, holocaust,
In gardens or on farmlands,
Sprout hatred, with the passage of time!"
Tired of shopping malls,
Went to buy spinach,
Straight from the farm.
“Go and pick what you want,”
Said the seller, he was kind.
Looked at the green lanes,
They were like prayers,
Of the Muslims and church.
Suddenly heard a sound,
Was scared, looked around,
Saw clouds and sky,
No one else, just no one!
Talked to me spinach:
“Don’t be fooled by my look!”
It revealed: “My contents,
Are no more like parents’,
The chemicals of farmers
Brought change to our faith,
We are modern, converted!”
Some wonder why I say what I say,
To me, they are people tied to chairs,
Who observe the shadows as the real,
The mannequins, duplicate, brainless,
Residing in the cave, Plato’s!!!!
With love and interest
I headed for Ukraine.
“Is war zone, dangerous,”
Warned and said, my friends.
“I lived there, I know them,
Am obliged, I love them,”
I replied and was firm.
Long flights, and bus rides,
With hardship, I arrived.
When sitting at the table,
For tea in their kitchen,
Studied war's effects,
Suddenly, I felt heard,
Someone sobs or cries,
And tears falling hard.
Knew not, if was birth,
Or more deaths, new shell,
As Moscow’s messenger!
Said nothing, just listened,
To that sound and friends.
Another friend in my head,
A friend for decades,
His passport is Russian.
Felt a knife in my heart,
A dagger in my mind:
Razor sharp, set to cut.
Loved the ones around me,
As well as the absentees,
Ukrainians and Russians,
Russians and Ukrainians.
Love them both.
Love them both.
I had proved, taken risks,
Went to act as a bridge,
A bridge for the peace.
Lost I was in my thought,
And hosts' eyes, voice, talk,
And the secret lost sound!
What a mess, it was hard,
My lone tool was: “Smile!”
In my head a movie,
Large silver screen,
New York? UNESCO?
Kremlin? Washington?
Each of them was a word,
Used by the outside world.
My friends, all of them,
Were born as the Soviets,
Those around, those absent.
Most of them were privileged,
As chiefs’ kids, or the Russians.
One’s father ruled secrets,
His mother was widowed,
Was widowed by Germans,
Ukrainian found an Uzbek,
As a child knew not,
About the facts and lies!
He only recognized,
His mother had a child,
That he called: “Brother!”
Sergey, tall, black-haired,
And Yuri blue-eyed, and blond
Though he lived with Germans,
He never learned German…!
“Better are the Russians, Soviets,”
They were taught and trained!
At-top-kids never learned,
The core of political racism,
Injected into their blood cells.
Racism brought hate,
Against Russians, soviets,
As came time for harvest,
They owned their heritage!
Misguided Americans,
Brainwashed by Reagan:
“Yes, we have delivered,
To them hope, freedom!!!”
Sadly, in the melting pot,
(The U. S. of America,)
Narrow are kept the sights.
Media is the cave of Plato,
To the chairs legs are tied,
Nobody knows outside,
Out of sight is kept the Sun!
Thanks to the America,
I saw the fallen bombs,
I met a sick, shattered life,
Even the Matryoshkas…!
In Ukraine, Matryoshkas,
Are seen as the agents,
Representing Russia,
If not burned, are hidden,
Are removed, imprisoned!
And the sound I had heard,
Was from their prisons!
Their codes, I deciphered:
“Both Russia and Ukraine,
Must plant love, unite...”
On the October seventh,
I was filled with anger,
On my cheeks two rivers.
Hating the massacrers,
The rapists, torturers,
Raised a fist in the air!
I shouted, and shouted,
Against the attackers,
Supported the victims.
As the days departed,
Each after the other,
I followed and listened,
Every word that I heard.
Said the Jewish minister:
"We fight to eliminate!"
That took me to the Bible,
Esther, the Old Testament.
The queen of Persians,
Sounds very complex!
Who was the Mordecai?
Her cousin or uncle?
Was he not Ex-husband?
How did he help Esther?
How did they foil a plot?
The Bible says it wrong,
When defining Haman!
General is not a Vizier,
Officers must defend,
The kingdom and people,
So, we see used/abused,
"Eliminate, Exterminate!"
Can I be the righteous heir,
To that lovely poet?
By blood, an Armenian,
Karo was an Iranian.
Recited his poem, as a child,
Then, a young schoolboy won a prize.
Indebted to him I,
Doubtlessly must remain good, loyal.
In tunnels of darkness,
He, to me, has been a torch to shed light.
Like the sun in the sky,
Gave light to satellites, halo to North Star.
To him, I was a jar,
And filled me to the brim, without a top.
But in his final years,
Sad, wrote to the presidents,
Of Yankees, the U of S:
“Please stop the bloodshed!”
As his loyal, righteous heir,
Traveled to Ukraine,
Saw buildings broken,
And thousands of pictures,
Of people, old, infants.
They are killed by bombshells,
For the sins not committed.
Like Karo,
Looked at East and Putin,
Looked at West to Biden,
With red eyes, shed tears,
Kept sobbing and shouted:
“Please stop the bloodshed!”
For many, many years,
A thousand, or thousands,
Lived while loathed, insulted.
Now are jewels in the crown,
In the world, all around…
I can be a long gone,
But for sure, there is a time,
For those of Palestine…
After lies, the woman,
Took the child, set blame,
On her poor partner.
He,
Cries night and day,
Begging her to return,
Unite and celebrate.
She took her, ran away,
After had complained:
“My man is dangerous!”
The baby, parents say:
“Suffers from autism.”
“She is a beast, a cheater,”
A colleague said, declared:
“Ignore her and leave her!”
The woman, possibly,
As says a shared friend:
“Holds Satan in herself.”
As does a secret agent,
Had written, delivered,
Yet, slept in his arms…
Not a word, to let time,
Take the file to a judge,
Complaints to be read:
“My man is dangerous,
Can kill me or our child!”
“Was bullied as a child,
No one cared, I, alone,
Suffered, hid, and cried,”
Says father with red eyes.
What about the little girl?
It is a mess or a paradox!
I recall the old days,
Was a guest, invited.
The food was delicious,
Almost licked the plate.
With the same I was fed,
Day after day, for days.
Made me sick, mentally,
And puked, physically!
Feel the same with news,
Academia and the books.
They insist and want us,
To believe: “The truth!”
“You never disbelieve,
It happened to the poor…”
At the start, it sounds right,
But the pot boils the doubt!
Their brand is “Anti…”
Pressure mothers lie!
Most dress for the party,
But head for the robbery!
History explains,
Shows many dictators,
Bowed to and respected,
While they were in power!
Thanks to enforced censor,
Political enforcement,
The serf hides, pretends,
Yet, wears a sharp dagger,
Underneath his garments,
Until comes the darkness!
Coffee mug in my hand
I stand…
Stare at the feeders,
Keep looking at the birds,
Music fills the air…
I enjoy what have heard,
Of ‘Mullah Mammad Jan,’
With a great love affair.
I think and thoughts fly,
To distance, too, too far,
To a time when Incas,
Ruled as if they were God,
I recall the city of ‘Ollantay.’
Think of that general,
And Cusi Coyllur,
Story of their love.
Come many stories,
Like Shirin and Farhad,
Like Majnoon, and Leyla,
Romeo, Juliet…
To this time when return
Feel dislike, sort of hate!
Everyone talks of sex,
Boyfriend, girlfriend,
Sleeping together…
Where went love,
Those lovers?
Sacrifice, lion’s heart?
Feel lonely, abandoned,
In the world of ego and greed,
Love, romance, are my needs,
Amuse me with birds and music.
Was I four? Seven’s half?
I had goats, baby lams,
To me they
All, dear, toys, and games.
I fed them until fall,
They grew to be large.
They played our old game,
And hit me, I was hurt,
I escaped to stop,
Was weak and unable…
But still,
In my heart,
I love them,
Loved them all.
I went out and returned,
Saw my dad with a knife,
And hated my father,
It was red with blood.
From then and after,
I hate the murderers.
I hate the murderers,
Who? And what?
Regardless!
I hate the murderers,
If killing the mankind,
Or the beasts, any bird.
I hate to nurture hate,
But in me, grow hate,
I hate the murders,
When victims,
Are little children,
Or pregnant women,
Refugees displaced!!!
Now and then,
Here, there,
I stop a little,
Concentrate,
Bend and lift,
Pieces of plastic.
I hear Mother Earth:
“Son, help me!”
Soon, will go to Auschwitz,
Yearn to converse, engage,
With their bones and skins!
In my company, I carry,
Images of innocent babies,
Enveloped in green shrouds.
I long to summon the departed,
The wounded, the tormented,
Pose to them my inquiries.
"Be merciful, reveal to me,
The tales of those harrowing days,
Were you, too, corralled and
Crushed, left to perish...?"
Then, I might inquire:
"Do the echoes of your spirits,
Perceive the unfolding events,
Propelled by the Israelites?"
I anticipate their responses:
"Those people are not our kin,
They align with the confidants of
SS and that infamous mustache..."
I acknowledge the lingering souls,
Pure, radiant as saints with halos,
Innocents are woven with a glow.
They may sense chagrin:
"They replicate what Hitler once did,
We stand apart from their ilk!"
In unison, they and I will concur:
"Regardless of the perpetrators,
Be they brigands or butchers,
Perpetrators of genocide, holocaust,
In gardens or on farmlands,
Sprout hatred, with the passage of time!"
Last night I,
Had a dream.
A current, stream,
On it ran many leaves,
With apples, red and green.
I stood silently,
And observed consciously.
Did they talk?
I wondered!
But I heard,
Heard them well!
Do the eyes have ears?
Or can they translate?
Recalled our film prof,
Explained and told us:
“Show, don’t tell!”
On the run, stream,
Small waves kept moving,
On and off increased,
If got wide, they decreased.
I remember one proverb,
Faced the sky and smiled,
“This one too, is to, pass!”
As the past is long gone,
Now, will be long gone!
Water’s path, apples, leaves,
River’s curves, streams,
The young and fetus, dead,
Palestine, Israel,
I saw Uighurs, China,
Odessa, and Afghan-Pakistan!
I,
Never,
Liked, like,
Kings…
No matter what the names,
In the varied languages,
Shahs, sultans, ayatollahs,
“The shadow of the God?”
No matter,
Male, female,
A loser or winner,
Forcefully, or an heir,
If throned or crowned!
I never liked the kings,
Why should I ever sing:
“God save the king?”
To me they duplicate,
The leeches, vampires,
Do nothing to live well!
Down with Shah and Sultan,
Down with kings all around!
Be kind and keep me out,
Of their sadness and fun!
The kings and their harems,
Are furnished, well designed,
With the people’s bent spines,
Bristled, burned with the sun,
Brainwashed to sing hymns:
“The king is god on Earth…!”
The kings and most rulers,
Are worm-like consumers,
Who live in palaces…
This, somehow has to end!
Saturday,
Eleventh day,
November.
It is the day of:
“Remembrance!”
Wonder who?
Wonder why?
Wonder what?
I look back,
Nothing is there,
Only the silhouette!
Veterans!
Veterans!
Veterans!
In the wars, I have been,
I have seen displaced,
Saw blood, and injuries,
Body parts, amputees,
And the caskets to carry!
Hate to see veterans,
Hate being a veteran!
I sat to analyze veterans,
Started with the words,
Head-to-toe is worthless!
It defines the murder,
It honors murderers,
Or murdered,
Or injured,
As well as the soldiers,
Fooled to be drafted,
Pressured, encouraged:
“Go and kill the others,
The others are devils!”
Did you watch the debate?
Did you see five people?
Four men and one woman?
Didn’t they look alike?
Five fingers of a palm?
The thumb, I, preferred,
Overall, they were the same,
Fingers have no brain!
Each of them, regardless,
Supported murderers,
With money, tanks, planes,
To kill the displaced!
Bloodshed!
Bloodshed!
Bloodshed!
Have a book, am reading,
Its author, a dervish,
He forecasts and foresees.
He says and I can see,
The United Nations,
Has growing numbers,
Independent members.
The United Fifty,
Soon will be broken,
Each will be a member,
To The United Nations…
That, of course, is after,
Moving headquarter,
To new places.
Maybe to Africa,
Somewhere in Asia,
Far from Long Island!
During many wars,
Vietnam, to Iraq,
We opposed…
We opposed the gases,
Genocide, mass murder!
We repeat what we did,
Condemn wars…
No to hate, no to lies,
No to those who cheat us!
Today too we are the same,
Say the same, do the same.
The chair holds the gavel,
Has police and power,
Enforces opposers:
“Either out or silent!"
No, the man with a gavel,
And Trump, your master!
Warmongers had power,
Controlled the houses,
Lied to the microphones,
Brainwashed the people.
Warmongers do the same,
They, the no-one’s friends,
Do not serve the people,
Are nothing but leeches!
No to those, no to them,
Not to wrongs, forever.
We have been, still are,
In love and will remain.
By checking the numbers,
All the dead and injured…
During my research,
For causes of murders...
Among books of the faiths,
Synagogues, mosques, churches...
When counting the graves,
History of tortures…
See traces of the faiths,
The faiths of Abraham...
At such times, with anger,
Face the wall and murmur:
“If I was alive then,
If had seen Abraham,
If knew his plans,
Collected some snakes,
As well as scorpion,
Poisoned Abraham…!”
Abraham who fathered,
Sarah’s son and Hagar’s,
Divided the people…
Abraham who claimed,
To have heard Yahweh,
Divided the people…
Had I been alive then,
I would have trained him,
To share love with people,
To be a bridge, not a river,
To build roofs over heads.
Had I been alive then,
I would have poisoned,
The cause of divisions!
Tonight, I go to bed,
In my mind a woman.
She is of Israel,
Intend to forgive her.
She, one of the soldiers,
Cheated, forced, drafted,
Was sent to the frontiers,
Has confessed to mistakes,
And deserves forgiveness.
I rewrote this poem,
Kept only the title.
Every word was a sword,
Now use them to comfort.
People are different,
Both civil and soldiers.
The good and bad are there,
Sinners are commanders,
Ministers, presidents.
Look at wars, everywhere,
Murderers and murdered,
They are the poor soldiers,
Unknown to each other!
But Putin and Biden,
And others of the same,
The characters on stage,
Run the shows as actors!
I observe the bare feet,
Teenagers with pebbles,
High-rises and the trees,
And plants, and waters,
Yankees are paymasters,
They cause the bloodshed!
My last night’s nightmare was,
Too close to death but,
In courts that lacked justice!
The bandits' mean leader,
Had plans in his head,
Against me, most nations!
Did not know the reasons,
Confused, suspected,
Felt alarmed and cautious!
Jumped from the sleep,
Surprised of the dream,
Decided to write these.
Re-slept me again,
Politics, I dreamt,
Scripts with Bible.
I dived deep into them,
Abraham with Moses,
Tribes of the Israelites.
A vision: “They are lies,
Look at the genocides,
That they call miracles,
Of God and Abraham’s!”
I felt that some power,
Within me? Outsider?
Spoke and demanded:
“Go, enjoy the bonfire,
With Scripts that claim
God has sent prophets,
If approves Abraham!”
Taken by the nightmare,
The Haman and Esther,
Halloween’s Massacres,
Walked away from bed!
Ignored and abandoned,
My table hosts corpses,
An autopsy is required…
In their way and manner,
The dead are wanderers.
But my main interest,
Is becoming a master,
Taxidermy, an expert.
Want to keep the skin,
Not the bone, nor the meat,
Then behave like artists,
Giving them form or shape.
The three leaves I have,
Are maples with fingers.
Saw them fall in the air,
Fresh, had lovely colors.
Now they are delicate,
Soft, very intricate…
And I am too afraid,
To pick or to touch them,
They can turn to powder.
Keep looking, am amazed,
About their life and death,
Feel goosebumps, I stare,
Bite my lips and wonder:
“What were they?”
“What are they?”
Easily can answer:
“Were alive; now are dead!”
But am not satisfied,
Want to think, go further!!!
Let me be clear,
Today, and forever:
“Am against bloodshed,
Whoever’s, anywhere.”
So, this is an attack,
Don’t read as a defense.
I oppose the start,
October, the seventh,
Approve a punishment,
In the Court of Justice,
Peacefully, not with hate.
“Why did you?”
“Because the…”
Like to face Blinken,
And his boss, Joe Biden,
And corrupt Ministers
Of the Jewish State.
Let’s start with the latter:
“Did you not upset the
Freedom, and justice,
To escape court matters,
Against you, your action?”
Everyone is aware,
Of the angered people,
On the roads, everywhere!
Now you have confined them,
You call them: “Our soldiers!”
You are an abuser,
Abuse the condition,
To relax, be content!
You speak everywhere,
Advertising nonsense!
You cheat, fool the people,
And the world, unaware,
That you are the main evil.
Now, formers, Blinken,
Joe Biden, Westerners,
The scared that rattles,
The Arabs, and Russia,
Pakistan, Iran, and India,
And Turkey and Iraq,
Egyptians, at the top:
“Are fooled? Or enslaved?
By the mammoth Minister,
Who is a leech, Vampire?”
Look behind lavas, waves,
And clouds, and rubbles,
When removed, or settled,
Arises this same devil,
Thinking of a bloodshed,
Here, or somewhere else!
Blinken, Joe Biden,
The Western Ministers,
Members of the UN,
Save the world from the,
Worst-ever Vampire!
Be clean, wash your hands,
From this disaster…
Remember, remember,
History is written…
Someday our children,
Will open and read the:
“All leaders were monsters,
They claimed but never,
Believed in what they said,
Billions were slaves,
Without rights, freedom,
Or faith, or consciousness!”
No matter who you are,
Do not call it a war,
It is a genocide!
You kept them in the cage,
Then, with guns and bullets,
And with tanks and planes,
Shoot and, kill the children,
Then, proud, say: "Is a war?"
No, no, no,
Sure, it is a genocide,
As was the Holocaust!
Regardless of who does,
No matter where is done,
Mass murder has a name,
In the city, farm, and town,
“Holocaust!” or “Genocide”
Austrian or German,
The People of Poland,
If murdered in masses,
As were the Armenians,
And the Jews and Arabs,
World around, and Gazan,
Must be called: “Holocaust!”
Don’t tell me that is war:
“Started by the Hamas!”
The oppressed are always,
Seeking fights to the death,
Hamas too, did the same!
Oppressed loses brain,
What about innocents?
Who said that you are right?
How can you murder them?
Why point at the Hamas?
Indigenous and the Black?
They, too, are grenades!
In the whispering stillness of time,
I stood, a witness with open eyes.
Majestic is nature's artistry,
Beauty was born from life's last breath.
Abandoned my car for a fleeting moment,
To explore the secrets of the Earth.
Astonishment gripped my soul,
As I returned to my mechanical steed.
Nature, the masterful painter,
Magically had adorned her.
With the canvas of leaves,
Splashed hues, harmonious.
Greens, browns, fiery reds,
The dead leaves had embraced.
They whispered many tales,
In unique forms, and in detail.
What I left, suspended,
With the leaves was dressed.
I have read the Bible,
New, old Testaments.
Our prof was Jewish,
He smiled and preached.
“Read this, it is great,
But reject the content!”
And I read, read to learn,
Richer than Shakespeare’s.
Examined the Esther,
A married Jewish girl.
Married to Mordecai,
Yet, single for the Shah.
Turns spy penetrates,
Inside the King’s palace.
Gifts body in the bed,
Keeps lying to master!
Her people came as guests,
Hid their swords and daggers.
Well made-up, poisoned,
Revealed their pretense!
When time roped, the devil,
Showed Haman their evil!
Bible facts the fiction,
For fooling the reader!
Wife? Lover? Murderer?
Which of these was Esther?
How can it be righteous,
If guest kills host, hostess?
In varied lands, cultures, proverbs,
Take shapes and echo back, in a web.
"Camel baking bread," Yemen's lore,
Has very deep truths, it fills the stores.
A devil one day met a bastard,
Far away, in a shadowed alley.
"Who can cause more damage?"
Slyly, the devil asked, questioned.
They whispered, made a deal,
Shook hands and went to see.
"Used a sling, I've shattered a glass,
Broke peace of an old man, woman.”
“I went and made other, just like you,”
Indeed, said the devil and grinned!
I see the innocents and their fate,
Being Jews, Yemenis, or Gazans.
Deaf, blind, Moscow and Washington,
Only talk fire, and arms, to send more!
Seems the same with Paris and Berlin,
And mullahs, and leaders of Peking!
To victims, everything is nameless,
Empathize, all of them are in pain.
The guilty are not the mother, child,
The devils are leaders, all involved!
I heard of Sainte-Marie,
My beloved Buffey.
Is easy to break,
Be a man, capable,
Get yourself together.
Do not talk much longer,
Join, unite, the pieces,
Make from the shattered!
Like her, I know many,
Among them Reynaga,
The heir to Catari…
When a chief was murdered,
As happened to Big Bear,
The tribe scattered!
Why not look at Gaza?
And the Jews before that?
Since I am displaced,
I know and am aware,
Stepson-and-daughter,
Being raised, adopted!
I have books in my shelves,
Many names have differed,
Thanks to the conditions…
Having been world around,
I have seen many kinds…
Read in books of Dickens,
Brit’s Home Children,
Philippines descendant,
In Russia and Ukraine,
Latinos in the war
To get their Green Cards,
Many names became else!
I have done some of what,
Routinely, birdwatchers,
Do, enjoy, and observe.
Find, select a corner,
Stand there,
Be silent and solemn.
Stop, count the moments,
Look above, right to left,
They arrive, you wonder.
Their scouts, clever,
Spy, mainly single,
To inform the others.
They test the food at first,
Soft? Sweet? Pleasant?
Or false? Or poison?
Full of joy, celebrate,
Pick a seed and again,
Spread wings and tails.
I stood and questioned:
“Who made them?
Why? Where? When?”
Found me lost in myself,
Felt like dust particles,
Totally forgot them…
Thought of calm and nature,
From lakes to mountains,
Saw clouds come, gather,
Some looked like elephants,
And giraffes, wolves, jackals,
Then a cat and dog fight.
Poured on me raindrops,
I escaped, my best run!
Too busy to research
I watch the monitor…
See a Jewish channel,
Esther and Daniel!
The face of the young girl,
Is perfect, watchable…
Speaks like a bulbul,
And twits her fiction!
She nails the audience!
The core of stories,
Untrue, mind-washing!
Her heroes and demons,
Are of the Old Testament.
They survived all dangers,
Yahuwah has helped them.
She said of Daniel and lions:
“They conversed in the cage!”
Anchor hides the truth!
Does she know? Unaware?
Of the facts? Ancestors?
The world was different,
Genocides, bloodsheds!
All the books she has read,
Are the works of cheaters!
Why is she so shameless?
How can she demonize,
The heroes of others?
Learn from proverbs,
Including Persians…
They are the greatest,
Show a lot, say little!
“God knew the donkey,”
It starts…no details…!!!
“So, did not give it horn,”
You think of relations!!!
You picture the donkey,
On its head antelopes!!!
The beast is strong,
Master of kick-n-box.
“And what if it had horns?”
You think as were sparked.
I think of Assyrians,
They captured Samaria.
And think of the Romans,
They vanished the Judaea.
And picture the Gaza,
The same is going on.
I think of the injured,
Children, old, women!
What is there to be done,
But to pull your hair and,
Face a mirror on the wall?
In my mind the proverb,
Assyrians and Romans,
Donkey with antelopes,
And the rollercoaster!!!
Revenge, he cries, in a bitter plea,
His world imparts, a lesson too deep,
Injustice's heirs, now bow the knee,
Embracing hearts, to faults admitting.
What rises high, must find the ground,
In nature's course, or shades of shame,
The wheel spins, his time has come,
It is the day to pay for the wrong claim.
The once bully is crushed to dust,
Its particles in his slaves’ palms,
Descendants rose, no longer trussed,
He harvests what is sewn in the ground.
Trump's leaves have fallen, colors bright,
Upon the benches, where justice grew,
The tale of power, its fearless flight,
Autumn, after rain, arrived anew.
In Georgia's courts, where echoes dance,
With eyes aglow, I seek the truth,
I take my chance, in freedom's dance,
To witness tales of age and youth.
The sky and clouds,
Sun showed up,
A moment,
It was the greatest.
You who whine night and day:
“They hate us, why do they?”
Dive within, let honesty shine,
Recall your words, every line.
Remember what you said,
Recall all, whatever,
That you wrote or claimed:
“Only we are righteous,
To others are masters!”
Yet in the marketplace,
You bartered the people,
When colors were diverse.
With this, as I can see,
One cannot buy friends!
Rest assured, be doubtless,
You bought hate for yourself!
Do not bemoan, save tears,
You waste or make useless,
Varied books of the faiths,
When abused as the trench.
Graves you dug instead,
Of the forts and towers.
See how you converted,
The seas and the oceans,
Of caring, love, calmness,
Into deserts, barren bowers.
Have no cries, and no wails,
Live in this hate-filled trail.
You smeared spit of racism,
In this world, your people,
Yes, you forged for yourself.
Do not care whose finger,
Works with the trigger.
I think of the targets,
Do not care if civil,
A hunter? Or soldier?
Do not care which victim,
Young or old, man, woman.
Do not care whichever,
Coyotes, bears, jackals,
Or a lamb, bird, cattle!
I hate the warmonger,
I hate the arms maker,
I hate the arms dealer.
Do not like governments,
Being Arabs’, Israel’s,
Or the Brits and Spain’s,
To Russia-USA in Ukraine!
Sympathize with victims,
Being Jews or Muslims,
Or Hindus, Christians,
Or a worm, fish, or deer,
Subjugated in the cage,
Blinded, shackled legs!
Must take me to the seaside,
To observe waves, rise-fall,
Where seashells are selfless,
Love corals, and there, die.
Enjoy the farms, gardens,
In the mountains’ skirts
With the trees, flowers,
Large, small, all sizes,
Breeze too, has essence,
Petals make horizons…
She, one of Fox anchors,
Though says is a lawyer,
Talks as do warmongers.
Knows nothing about Ur,
Harvesting homelessness,
With blood, and hunger…
Our sad, mad stories,
Duplicate ancient myth:
“A Jew is wandering!”
I feel goosebumps, shiver,
Inside my veins and nerves,
And in you? And others?
Ur is not just a name,
As is seen in the Bible,
It is an antique word,
Related to the water.
Go and read Gilgamesh,
Walk in the caves, tunnels,
You will find warmongers,
With the thirst for power!
You will see the rivers,
And the seas and oceans,
Also, chains of mountains,
Particles, there linger,
On the paths and passes,
From hills to the plains,
Over countless injured,
And corpses of victims,
Of the kings, emperors’
Slings or sword-dagger’s
Genocides, bloodsheds,
Aided by God’s agents,
With flags and anthems,
Or orders, commandments,
For choosing Heaven-Hell!
In a cage, perched a bird,
Close by, lurked a jackal,
Walked and ran, sniffed air,
A hunter searched for prey.
The wise bird knew well,
Watched ‘The Sly’s Affair,’
Approaching camouflaged,
Peaceful guise, telling lies.
"Friendship's not our fate,
You showed your intentions,
Leave, go far, don’t pretend,
What is your game here?”
"Let us be two friends,
Freedom, you can gain,
Fly high," said the jackal:
“Open wings in the sky."
"Help or harm, can't be sure,
Your motives, I've endured,
Preyed on, we have been,
Yet, know of your deceit."
"Past is past…" sighed Jackal:
“Unity is the path to success,
Let’s unite and follow Manifest,
Walk with Che, Marx, Engels."
"No," replied, the proud bird:
"You go and join foxes,
Dine and wine off corpses,
I avoid your kind of freedom!”
I’ve known her,
For many, many days,
For weeks, months,
Years, decades.
She has been,
My mother,
My sister,
My lover!
No, she is not Sarah,
I am not Abraham.
Neither are we ancient,
The time of siblings,
Marrying each other!
Have known her for too long,
Blossoms in time of the equinox,
A grown-up woman, not some child.
In summer shows her face,
Modest and pregnant.
At autumns,
She is a magician,
A bright scarlet,
Wears a mix of colors,
Displays her nipples,
Milkshake of chocolate,
Reveals chest, and breasts.
Stands, waits for shower,
Strips, undressed…
Have seen her in gardens,
Have seen her in forests,
Have seen her by the rivers,
Mesmerized, I watch her,
The heaven's miracles,
Are the trees; I love them.
Dear Sir, or Madam,
I look for Ezra Pond.
He was a matchmaker,
In Paris of his days.
Matched writers, publishers,
The artists with buyers.
I need him, search for him,
Let me know if find him.
I fear Washington,
May arrest and kill him.
Keep busy writing books,
Around fifteen volumes.
At times write like James Joyce,
Select scenes, juxtapose,
A bandit,
Medicine,
Classroom,
Critics,
And logic.
An old man, a magician
Keeps busy with a rooster,
He plays his flute,
And dances the rooster.
Suddenly, stop, halt,
I return and smile:
“Will be banned?
Or censored?
Or becomes a star?
Platinum? A diamond?”
Soon after, divert thoughts:
“Live today, leave the rest,
For the days after death!”
Today, I, after days,
Maybe weeks, or further,
Cured my consciousness…
On the roadside, a sign said:
“Fresh fruits, jams, and eggs.”
I entered, selected,
Bought one Jar,
A few eggs.
Prices were written,
No person as a cashier,
No witness, just conscious.
My shopping was dozens,
Of small, and larger,
Then dropped the dollars.
When at home, saw boxes,
And noticed, had paid less,
Consciousness was injured.
Felt guilty and cheater,
But today I returned,
Paid balance, recovered.
Which one is the voting,
Is it funny? Or stupid?
Long ago a few ships,
With the crews hungry,
Unaware and in need,
Disembarked British!
The locals, both genders,
Came around, extended,
Kindness with reception.
The local custom said:
“Be nice and generous,
To the incoming guests.”
They did as the law said,
Fed snakes’ descendants,
The poisonous scorpions!
Saving the leech, vampire,
Has been seen as a mistake,
They should be left to face,
Hunger, sickness, or death!
Children of those first
Devoted indigenous,
Suffered, are insulted,
Even now, right today!
But after many years,
The snake, the python,
With ownership claim,
Lies out loud, pretends:
“Want to give freedom,
To the dark indigenous!”
Colonizers, the shameless
Blue-eyed, blonde hair,
Have been, are carriers,
Of the genes of the devil!
Once again is morning,
And I search with yearning!
You don’t know what is like,
To be born in Iran,
Traveled the world around!
Is lovely but is hard!
I recall two sisters,
From the same parents,
Marrying father, son.
What are they?
The in-laws?
Two sisters?
As it was?
Now read of two steps,
Brother and sister,
Proudly making love!
Confused, I feel lost,
In finding the right one,
What is the standard?
Here, in Canada,
Some defend animals,
Mostly, kill, do not want!
Confused, I feel lost,
In finding the right one,
What is the standard?
Politics with borders?
Governments with anthem?
Parents? The children?
Students? Or teachers?
Religions? Or customs?
Which one is the right one?
I told her that she was amazing,
She mistook, thought of her beauty,
Sexiness, angelic, convincing!
I was right in my way,
Meant to say is a puzzle,
Bipolar, two, diverse!
At times is punctual,
And at times is careless,
Playful, like a wave!
Now, I laugh,
At her and at myself!
Am I right?
Is Amazing, correct?
Long ago,
Wrote to the Clintons,
First to Bill, then his wife.
In my words, I told them:
“You are wrong!”
I opposed giving funds,
The funds for drug fight.
Unaware they were of
The people, area…
And mules and horses,
Domestics animals!
The money, if given,
Millions, of dollars,
Went to the smugglers!
The White House
Is wrong, dumb,
Study Coup d'états
Of Chile, and Iran,
World around,
Among them Libya!
And result?
Escapees on the run
Dingy boats,
They capsize,
Break dams,
Thousands die!
The White House
Has been, is,
Always wrong,
Study Coup d'états,
World around,
And results?!?!?!
I enjoy reading books,
On, about the brooks,
Residents, admirers,
Relatives, partners!
I speak with the fish,
With bushes and trees,
With searchers of haven,
The Indigenous, Indians!
Read reports of the times,
On Savage, by the White!
See the wars, massacres,
Frog Lake and Big Bear,
Cut Knife to Pound-maker,
Almighty’s voice, Bluff,
To rape of white women,
To kidnapped, kidnappers!
All of them in papers
Exaggerate, are larger:
“Be the first to blame,
Fugitive, dangerous!”
In this way has happened,
From past to these days!
Repeated Kissinger:
“Enemy must be made,
Divide, fool, conquer!”
McCarthy and others
Climbed the same ladders!
Read reports of their days,
On Big Bear, Poundmaker,
Then listen to the women,
None ever said was raped!
What about Cavalcante?
Oh, my lord, my goodness,
I think and remember,
Our good days and wonder,
If, you, too, remember!
Remember lovely days,
That we had together,
Danced, flew the plane?
I was part of the crew,
You were our majesty,
Majestic in the cockpit.
We arrived at Kish and,
You were well-respected.
We took a motorbike,
Then, jointly went to ride.
My hands were on the handle,
Your hands locked to my chest.
My back felt your breasts,
And your heart under them.
What a day! What a day!
Did you tell the children,
That we had lovely days?
Sadly, as I have heard,
You never said a word,
Beyond the bitterness!
A landlord commented,
About his poor tenants:
“Squeeze the students,
Juice them like oranges!”
He too is one of them,
One from one percent,
But in the “Sheepskin!”
Somehow, he converted,
His old house to a stable,
Piece by piece he rented!
Two floors and a garage,
With many cameras,
To make sure that is safe.
Soon after we got there,
Appeared like a devil,
Was shaken and afraid.
In us, he could see the,
CRA, or Police officers!
He does not want the law,
Learn about the poor kids,
Living there like sardines!
I foresee the days when,
They’ll employ or work for,
Government, large, small,
Corporates, of some kind!
What can we, should expect?
Will they, too, be cheaters?
I hate this one percent,
They who live like leeches,
Or some bats, vampires,
They kill and slaughter,
Consciousness, the brain!
To see the same item
There can be many ways,
I look at samosa,
To remember Bushehr!
In the south of Iran
People eat samosa,
This food of Indians!
It can be spicy,
Indians say: “Merchi!”
I frown, shed tears,
For the corpses left there!
Indians were soldiers,
They fought for Britain!
Doubt that was optional,
They had been occupied,
Enslaved in a way,
Like Blacks, Africans,
Gladiators for Romans!
Britain came and lost,
Many died in the war!
British demanded:
“Raise the guns and murder,
Men, women, if kid, child!”
Indians killed, were killed,
Abandoned, went Brits,
Escaped to board the ships!
Though they won the second,
Deep in shame, lost the third!
Locals moved the wounded,
And buried all the dead,
Learned to make samosas!
I remember that day,
Remember very well.
Saw the people cry…
I did not…
I knew thousands died,
Felt the pain in my heart.
Was searching for killers,
They lived in palaces!
People called them leaders,
Ministers, presidents!
They sold arms, sent soldiers,
With tankers, and bombers!
Why to bomb the homeless?
Is that “Love?” “Freedom?”
I was there on that day,
Saw plumes and observed!
Felt a knife in my heart,
Ran blood to my eyes!
Searched for the criminals,
They were in the White House!
Many dogs in dogs’ world,
Eat the dogs and no more!
I remember that day,
Remember very well.
Saw the people cry…
I did not…
Many dogs in dogs’ world,
Eat the dogs and no more!
Don’t tell me “West made it!”
West damaged, then faked it.
West stole from the past,
Very wise, and smart!
Registered as its own,
With patent and number!
Bravo to the West!
Bravo to the West!
Great are smart thieves,
They deserve to own it!
Machu Picchu to Egypt,
And Persia to Greece,
China, to Prairies,
Existed before West,
West claimed ownership!
Bravo to the West!
Bravo to the West!
Great are smart thieves,
They deserve to own it!
West made steam engines,
Slaves rowed commerce ships,
West claimed ownership!
Bravo to the West!
Bravo to the West!
Great are smart thieves,
They deserve to own it!
Hunted the men, women,
And sold them as slaves,
Parted kids and parents
Claiming: “I own them!”
Bravo to the West!
Bravo to the West!
Smart thief is smart,
They deserve to own it!
Yes, West forced the slaves,
Kill, murder, cultivate…
Then West took the harvest,
Ate, and sold in the market.
Many Western pirates
The sailors, Captains
Were the expert looters,
Of unknown: “Discovered?”
Raise my hat to the West,
The great smart thieves,
They deserve to own it!
London sold and rented,
Sent cargo, gunpowder,
To the royal soldiers,
Divide it between them,
Both winners and losers:
“Replace them if erased.”
Don’t tell me “West made it!”
West damaged, then faked it.
West stole from the past,
Very wise, smart ass!
Registered as its own,
With patent and number!
Bravo to the West!
Bravo to the West!
Great are smart thieves,
They deserve to own it!
Now, listen smart ass,
I stood and clapped,
But will not bow to you,
Did not and will not do…
I would rather be vapored,
In the sun in the desert,
And eaten by the jackals,
Or thrown in the oceans,
Floating on the waves,
Until fully rotten,
Out for good and ever,
Unlived in minds, brains,
To be your admirer!
Don’t tell me “West made it!”
West damaged, then faked it.
West stole from the past,
You a wise smart ass!
You wrote it as your own,
With a patented number!
Bravo to the West!
Bravo to the West!
Great are smart thieves,
They deserve to own it!
I stand to you like,
The lost seed under a rock,
The fish eggs in the heart of,
The mountains of La Paz,
And the old history,
Beneath the Titicaca…
You murder, are killing,
Nature with the industry,
Chemicals, polyethylene,
Pesticides, and concrete,
You are blind, cannot see,
Even your kids’ destiny!
Must be a proverb,
African? Caribbean?
Lincoln, a colleague said,
In his words and his way.
“A man will destroy,
The life with his action,
The woman does the same,
With a word, wrong, chosen!”
Had I not heard them caw,
I would have never thought,
That ravens and the crows
Competed, or had a fight!
I did and looked around,
Saw a raven, three crows,
The latter were afraid,
Prior was large, firm!
Looked at them mesmerized,
Not of shouting crows,
But from the shuttlecock
That raven held by mouth!
Kept thinking about it,
And reasons behind it,
Recalled the memories,
Of Tehran University,
Badminton, Sattari…
Was that a game? Playful?
Wondered how could be used!
As a pillar to build a nest?
Was that theft a mistake?
Feel glued in that moment,
Puzzle and question same:
“Do the Ravens play?
Or was it a wrong theft?”
Why birdie, shuttlecock?
Why did the crows caw?
Want to join a party,
Party of Anarchists,
Possibly in Richmond,
The Richmond in BC,
BC of Canada…
In East-Van and downtown,
Around the HWY one,
Abbotsford to Vernon,
Toronto, New York,
And elsewhere, to Iran!
Homeless are millions,
The rents are very high,
But many houses are,
Empty and belong,
To leeches among us,
“One Percent,” as is called,
The useless, the nonsense!
I drive, go around,
In BC’s most cities,
Chilliwack to Surrey,
Coquitlam to Langley,
New West, and others,
See many of houses,
Empty, abandoned,
Owners are greedy!
Like to be an anarchist,
Not leftist, not rightist,
Just to help the justice,
For the mass and needy.
Wish to make duplicates,
Keys for locks and lockers,
Hand to the poor workers,
Not the panhandlers,
Not the lazy beggars,
Not bishops, ministers,
Not those in government!
Here,
Comes, she again,
The shameless scarlet,
She does so every year!
Strips in public,
Chest forward and proud
Stands there,
Coquettish!
Repeats it in autumn,
One by one, in single,
When arrives the shower,
All at once goes naked!
“Be polite, respectful,”
I told her, insisted,
She behaves like a rock,
Earless, deaf, and dumb!
Enjoys observation,
When fully dress-less,
She exposes herself,
All over, neck to legs!
Never falls, stands there,
All along and always,
Dangerous, fearless,
Is perfect in flirts!
The farms and the gardens
In the fall and autumn,
Have a range of colors,
To welcome the winter.
Autumn
Paints the trees,
Ignores all boundaries,
Soft and calm and sweet
Adds to the spirits,
Scarlet!
The tourists of Death Road,
Speak of Bolivia, of Yagnas,
Reading every detail, I smile!
Check Google,
Read questions,
And Replies…
Nobody looks at depth:
“What is cost?”
“Is it too dangerous?
“And hours? Only bikes?”
“Can I go, I am solo, a woman?”
Why deaf, dumb?
Learn about who built it!
The reason behind it?
The workers, laborers?
Knowledge was a secret,
Was hidden in Churches!
Learning is dangerous,
It deciphers secrets,
It did and does always!
Death Road is art, craft,
Standard’s, Shell’s plan,
For getting oil and gas!
Rockefeller and allies
Helped settle Mennonites,
Guarani was brown,
Some escaped a genocide!
The Green Hell, Chaco,
Was in peace and between,
Bolivia-Paraguay…
Murderers, the Oilmen
Made soldiers road builders!
I was born in a village,
Lived there for a few years,
With our goats and chickens,
Also kept my pigeons…
Around us wilderness,
Nature and Mother Earth,
Gave wealth of freedom…
Mostly, males came to give,
Their semen, depart, leave,
Pigeons were not the same,
Male-female were parents,
Goats and sheep breastfed.
I was a child, too curious,
Looked around and observed,
Kept thinking, and compared:
“Which is the correct way?”
Now, grown, many years,
Among the most traveled,
Find myself in oceans,
Confused, like the waves.
Read news of kidnaps,
By one of the parents!
My brain in its cave:
“Who gets right?
Which justice?
Government?
Or mother?
Or father?”
Keep asking this question:
“Who defines the family?
What can be its meaning?
Parents and children?
By birth or adoption?
Poultry? Cattle? Pets?”
I cannot recall how,
Ended up on one site:
“Actress Fawcett died,
From cancer of rectal!”
I thought of my friends,
My friends for ages,
Mo or Joe, and Qassim.
I was there for Qassim,
Two of us, no one else,
Not wife, nor children,
And a nurse explained…
Some parts of the colon,
Must go to let the rest,
Live for life and be safe.
Joe is too stubborn,
Is proud, keeps secret,
Pains of rectal sickness!
Being his closest friend,
I know and am aware,
But I am in the shackle.
For the sake of his respect,
Have tied lips, cannot say,
A word that causes pain,
Deep in me, I am hurt!
My days, nights, in the fret,
Integrate fear with dread,
Last moment’s sad message:
“Joe collapsed, lies in bed!”
Friendship means love, care,
Spiced with respect, help,
Joe, to me, is the best,
I am hushed, what can say?
Take away these papers,
All papers with my name,
My parents, dates of birth,
Such State’s Citizen…
I do not stand for,
The drums, trumpets,
To follow a single faith,
Or one flag, one anthem!
Let me be in peace and,
Love, respect humans,
Regardless of culture,
Adjust like a chameleon.
In my mouth, a piece of meat
Is it pork, muffin, beef?
Will the killed forgive me?
What and when will eat me?
A bird? Worm? Or maybe…?
Wait for guests,
Some friends,
Jamaicans!
And I am confused:
“What to do?”
Angry with women,
Want to shout:
“You, mother…
You, ex-wife…”
“Children,
And kitchen…”
They told me:
“Not for you,
Is off limit!!!”
They cleaned,
Cooked the meal,
They arranged,
Set, managed,
I came home,
All alone,
With friends!
While sending
Love, respect,
Inside me a flames
The flame of anger,
Makes me curse:
“God damn you,
You, women!!!”
Impatient, I whisper:
“I feel in a shackle!
You made me unable!
You made me miserable!
You made me so hopeless!
Thanks to you, am ashamed!”
We, people of Iran,
Including Afghans,
Must clean up our minds,
From word of Islam,
That is tongue of mullahs!
They proved who they are,
Vampires, suck blood.
Wonder if the birds too,
Use the words for chirping,
Or lyrics when singing???
What about dogs and wolves?
Do they have words to bark?
What is the howling tongue?
I, always, keep thinking,
About words, when using.
Once I faced a drop
Just born of the clouds.
Speaking as friends
We talked of right and left.
Soon, we shared our dreams,
Birth to death, ways to live.
Neither knew of long past
The molecules, and atoms
That formed us as a whole.
And we were similar,
And we were similar.
We were, both, hybrids,
With others, relatives.
We, both hated borders
And the walls and the jails.
We, both, loved freedom,
Earthly life, humbleness.
We adored the generous,
Giving more, taking less.
Felt drop’s heart beating,
For running while going
To feed the farms, trees.
“Wait for me,” in my mind,
Meant to say, loud, in shout.
But did not; kept waving:
“Bye, and bye, my friend.”
In the clouds, seas, rivers,
See that drop and picture,
What went on, on that day.
How I wish I could be
A something, somebody
Well-defined, like a bridge.
But am not, I am like air,
Deep in a sea, am current,
Or maybe, I am an iceberg
In the plain, hills, mountains!
What is this shapeless shape?
Am I smug, a cloud, or a fire?
Possibly am Carbon monoxide,
Or maybe sizzling marshmallow!
How I wish that I was
In fashion, wanted Vouge,
And asked for chocolate
To take it with old wine!
My head is a container
And filled with the liquid,
Evidence of Higgs boson!
I feel that Eureka
And the God Particle!
Though nowhere,
I see me
Floating everywhere.
I walk with the engineer
Of the stealth bomber!
His son, my classmate
Stood up, defended
A camel driver.
That was me,
And remember, I will.
Reading books on women
I recall what she said:
“Pain of being a woman!”
In schools, church-fathers
Raped slaves, First Nations
Child workers, poor farmers,
Shipped British Orphans!
“Power bears corruption,”
Was said by Lord Acton:
“Absolute, absolutely!”
Feel phoenix, ash, and flame
In the wind, flake, and rain!
How I wish I were you
With life to fit in a room.
My wishes and dreams
In a bottle, tightly sealed.
But am not, cannot be,
Had opium, survive it!
With my feet on the seabed,
Raise my head to the heavens!
In times, love to escape
But I am tied and nailed
Metal noose grabs neck!
My need is not bread
Neither shirt nor jacket!
I love you and the others,
Regardless of your age,
Your genders, and cultures.
I care for the mammals,
To the worms, ants, snakes,
And all the creatures
On this Earth, in the oceans.
Meant to write,
Write about…
The fog in Abbotsford
Of B. C. Canada…
But she sings,
Sings of the past,
And is on the screen.
Oh, my Lord
What are these?
What is the soul?
What are the memories?
What is a thought? A dream?
I am lost in the fog,
Feel as if I am a rock
Am I sands at the beach?
Or dune in the desert wind?
Some write of love, romance,
Some write of the fall and rise,
Some write of their tummies,
Some people write nothing!
Memories on my mind,
Vertigo, I am lost,
In the fog of my thoughts!
And she sings.
And she sings.
And she sings.
With her song I picture
A mean court with blame.
Islamic government
Left no chance to live there,
Had to consult, then escaped.
Tehran to Chah Bahar,
Poor people in the flood,
Pakistan, then Dubai.
And she sings.
And she sings.
And she sings.
Every word in her song
Stirs my past, gives life
To the days, a long gone.
Reminds me of hiding,
Afraid of being caught
By the Sepah-Pasdaran!
Reminds me of Jamal
Smuggler, he drives…
Reminds me of Shir-Gauz
And how the dam was washed
All the farms, animals…
Reminds me of many encounters,
Mats of palm, and schools without walls.
Reminds me of meeting
Young and old refugees!
We varied, also shared
A common killing pain.
We were fooled by mullahs,
The Muslims with big lies.
Cherished some encounters,
We gathered as new friends.
In Dubai, met two brothers,
They sold Persian Carpets,
One Mansoor, one Naser,
Polite and quiet was latter.
And she sings.
And she sings.
And she sings.
Like a carved membrane,
Recall what Mansoor said:
“She sang, and I told her…”
Hayedeh is long dead
The same as her sister.
But she sings.
And she sings.
And she sings.
To Mansoor what happened?
The police reported:
“Found car in Umm Al Quwain,
Was damaged and left there!”
What about brothers?
Like the fog? Disappeared?
Naser’s wife came to me,
We chatted for hours.
And she sings.
And she sings.
And she sings.
With each word I hear
Birds fly in the air
I stare at their wings,
Feel drunk with dreams!
Every word from her
Penetrates as a dagger
In my heart and brain:
“What happened?
What happened?
What happened?”
Drinking my red wine,
Speak in an old tongue,
And address the sky.
Not with the Abraham
Or Moses, or their God
And neither with Allah,
With Ahura Mazda…
On my cheeks two rivers
And my eyes blood-red,
Under feet have a pond,
Which is filled with tears!
What is man, this evil?
I look at the women,
And the birds, and the wild,
And rivers, caves, farms,
See nothing but man’s wrong!
The worst evil is mankind!!!
Was busy with my love,
Listened to her heart pump
And stared into her eyes.
Her name is Juliet,
It makes me Romeo.
How I wish had a gun
With bullets, silver ones
To let me end my life!
When lovers die in love
Will have the longest life.
How I wish had a gun
With bullets, silver ones
To let me end my life
While lying in her arms!
For too long, I was wrong,
Thought I was free and strong.
In mother’s stories
We heard of barred, free
By shackles, walls, and blinds,
And the walls and handcuffs.
She talked of dictators
And the cruel governments
Taking the control
Of our mouths, eyes, and ears
As well as hands, arms, and legs,
“But your thoughts? Can never!”
“So, you are, always free…”
She said and we believed…
No, no, no
We are not…
Look at the Troika,
Three friends,
Iran and Russia, and China.
Search for the brutal
Troika comes at the top
Iran, China, and Russia.
They start and trace
Torturing the brains.
Each of us, to Troika
Is nothing but a number
Poisoned is consciousness.
Their rival governments
Are the Taliban, and Israel.
Oppressed are the women, Hazaras,
Palestine never survives genocide.
Uniform trauma is a killer!
Uniform trauma is a killer!
Uniform trauma is a killer!
Trauma’s origin,
Is a wound in Greek
But the badly misused,
To talk of the great pain.
Trauma, as I learned,
Reflects the trace that remains,
Of a wound in the heart or brain,
Upon the sighting, remembrance…
Some call me a veteran
I hate that…
That takes me on a tour
Of dreams and childhood
To my needs and manhood.
Uniforms haunted us,
The cadets, very young,
Not because of our love
But because needed jobs.
I never thought of wars
In my days, nor at night,
I hated shedding blood.
The soldiers are puppets,
Abused in the ugly games,
Planned by the warmongers
And the dirty politicians.
I witnessed three wars,
Pakistan’s and Dhofar,
As well as the Iraq-Iran!
Happily, out of touch
I was with killer guns.
But still, feel the guilt,
We flew the logistics,
Carrying soldiers, guns
And most of the supply.
We took men standing,
Brought bags on returning,
And caskets, and stretchers.
Uniforms to me are monsters,
The military or police, regardless.
Uniform trauma is a killer
Like the pains of slaves
Stolen, tied, and shackled.
Uniform trauma is a killer
Like what felt the Indians,
Lied to, and then insulted.
Uniform trauma is a killer
Like the pain of women
Forbidden to give birth.
Uniform trauma is a killer
Like the pain of parents
Sixties’ scoops, in reserve.
Uniform trauma is a killer
Like the pain of Hussein,
A hungry laborer, prisoner.
The soldiers, NCOs, officers,
Are fooled by the word “Veteran”
For shedding blood, and murders.
Read about the returning soldiers
From wars, genocide, and terror.
Uniform trauma is a killer!
Uniform trauma is a killer!
Uniform trauma is a killer!
TELUS acts as an Emperor
Is Majestic ruler, a dictator.
Emperor has gladiators,
Lincoln is one of them.
The latter is busy, prepares
For more fights, survival…
Strong, fearless, murderer
Seem to be the gladiators,
Inside the amphitheater!
What about Kathy’s case?
Let us see what happened.
Amy lived with Kathy
A co-tenant and a friend.
Both women used drugs,
One heavy and one mild.
Excessive injections
Took Amy and her life.
When alive, many times
Kathy murmured dislikes.
But after Amy died
Kathy became a caretaker,
And sister, and the friend,
She cried like her mother.
She had to handle the
Burial and the rest.
While Kathy was on leave
To handle Amy’s peace
Lincoln was brainwashed
Thanks to one gladiator,
A Lane-Tech, or an LTC!
I had gone for shopping
Vegs, fruits, and vitamins.
Saw the boxes of pears
Good looking, well managed.
The store did not sell
By the piece or single.
Bought one box
Brought home.
Had no time to eat but
A few, the rest are
Softening, browning.
That means
Can be rotting.
Have and will hate wasting
The harvest of hard work.
I never disrespect
The pain of hard workers.
Am in search of a way
That helps me preserve
Can consume them later.
Relatives and friends
Please come and suggest
A system to manage…
Promise to remain
Thankful and grateful.
From now to the end
Whenever set the table
I confess to conscious
Hate me for being a thief.
In a way
We knew what he did
His action was a theft.
No one talked,
Concretely silent!
Our silence by no means
Was a sign of politeness,
Indirect were our shares!
We are thieves!
We are thieves!
We are thieves!
In a way
We would share the harvest!
We are thieves!
We are thieves!
We are thieves!
We are the characters
Of Aziz Nesin
In a book about shoes
Of shoes of hay-seller!
We are thieves!
We are thieves!
We are thieves!
In a way
Every rich and the poor,
All of us can be thieves.
We are thieves!
We are thieves!
We are thieves!
By Fraser River
Of Richmond, Vancouver,
I stand and observe
Falling leaves, drizzle,
Shallow waves on the water.
They ripple and ripple
On the logs, like fishes.
Tree logs float and
Without roots or a head.
I adore autumn’s life,
Breeze comes beautifies.
The serene falling leaves,
Their dances in the rain,
And trips with the wind.
When departing, mothers,
The trees, undress,
Are exposed, get naked…
How I wish I could learn
To speak with the breeze,
With nature, and the trees
With alive and dead leaves,
On the water, in the wind.
I enjoy their concert
Wearing masks, scarlet,
They are soft and sweet.
It must be convincing,
To leave home, go shopping!
I am easy-tempered,
And my want is simple,
Am pleased when people,
Act like the dog, wag a tail.
Summertime is better,
Nature is generous,
Shows her jewels,
Exposes
The trees and bushes,
All plants, flowers,
From head to bottom,
And braless breasts.
I rather take a walk,
Permit eyes to see sight,
Of people with smiles…
Is always?
Of course, not!
Andrew has five parts,
Hands and legs, and a tongue.
The five-team go forward,
And brain follows up.
In the absence of a brain
This team loses the games!
Then: “Sorry, forgive me!”
Is free and offered.
Some, like me, are aware,
Some call him with labels.
I see me in a photo,
I am young,
And in love with Islam.
Most of us in Iran,
From north to the south,
East to West, all around,
Except for a handful,
Communists,
Are against the pagans,
Stalin, Soviets of Russia!
We adore-love Lincoln,
And freedom, Jefferson,
Though across the oceans!
We love these prophets,
Their efforts, and justice!
Burns photo in the flame,
Look at me in the mirror,
Laugh at me, my beard,
Are grown, white, grey,
And I feel embarrassed!
Emperors, Mother-child,
In London, Washington,
Have fooled us for too long,
CENTO was a flag on paper,
Called Green, for Islam,
With Muslim defenders,
Turkey, Iran, and Pakistan.
I see us as the mules,
Till arrived Gorbachev.
With the ‘Greens,’ in infights,
NATO is the greyhound,
And pawn of the Pentagon,
They murder, shed blood,
And Ukraine is Victimized!
Migration, Human Rights,
Politicians that make war,
Bullies of left and right,
Investors that make arms,
And victims on the run,
Escapees from the bombs,
In a vessel, were capsized!
I went to where had been,
Such cases, I have seen!
Powerful and rich bullies,
Presidents, officers,
Coup makers, seat seekers,
They tried to walk on,
Immigrants on the run,
But currents and the waves,
In the sea, of the water,
Stepped in, showed power!
Both looted and looters,
Shared the same freedom,
And worries, and fears,
A learned among them,
Talked to me, explained,
A word and its changes,
Meanings and definitions.
“I am an immigrant,
With roots in Zanzibar.”
“In the old ancient days,
A Persian Emperor, Xerxes,
Used our land as a passage,
They found us all Blacks,
So, called us ‘Zangi-Bar,’
But lacking ‘G,’ the Arabs’
Invaders pirated the slaves,
And called us ‘Zanzibar,’
Europe followed the case.”
Morning time and in car
On Highway ninety-nine
Am driving northbound.
Two eagles perching high,
Are kind of head-tail white.
Suddenly to my right
Hear a thump and jump.
I feel that they whisper:
“Humans are evils!”
Look in my side mirror,
Red blood on the asphalt,
Crushed is the squirrel,
In the wind, dancing tail,
Is shouting making wave:
“Stop those murderers!”
Gentle nods of eagles,
Approve injured, fallen.
I feel that they whisper:
“Humans are evils,
They polluted the earth,
Destroyed lakes, rivers,
And heated the oceans!”
Slowly pull to the side,
Set my mind on the top,
To observe their lookout.
Men cut the trees down,
Destroyed rivers, ponds,
Rare are birds, no beaver!
Four sides and directions,
Sunrise-east, sunset-west,
And the southern-northern,
Fence says: “Dog,” “Private!”
As a loyal friend,
I warn you, be aware,
Of the coming hell fire!
My friends in States:
“Inform the CIA,
And alert citizens,
Empire died, ended!”
Yes, yes, yes,
The truth is bitter!
Look at the two parties,
Are friends? Enemies?
What about presidents,
The past and present?
And the world?
Torch Lady of French,
Was sent to Abu Ghraib?
Near East and Far East?
Indians and Chinese?
Afghanis? Iraqis?
To Iran, Saudis?
All around the globe,
In robes or in cloaks,
Men, women, children,
Are waiting at the edge,
To watch the USA,
Go and die forever,
To vanish, disappear!
Tell friends in States:
“Inform the CIA,
And all the citizens,
‘USA’ went, faded!”
Sadly yes, yes, yes, yes!
She and I are very different,
We are like salt-pepper.
Which is best?
Leave? Stay?
Hit the road?
Go away?
But the two, together,
United in the meals,
Make the food tastier.
Am aware,
Well, aware,
Of her heart,
Will shatter!
Be patient,
And remain?
Am I one, only me,
Enjoying such cheating?
Am an old man,
Two third of a century.
And in love with cheating,
My victim is just me!
I cover my secrets,
From me, my brain.
Actors are not perfect,
Close my eyes, pretend,
Deep inside, I know well!
Mirrors are partners,
I stand firm, stare,
Teeth are first,
Then I shave,
Brush hair.
Touch my cheeks,
Eyebrows, eyelashes,
And smile satisfied:
“You look well!”
But I know,
Yes, I do, in detail,
I am a fool, a cheater!
A jar of foolishness,
Behave like an actor,
Do not see my wrinkles,
And ignore my baldness,
Borrow hair from a side,
And lend it to the other!!!
I freeze, hate the mirrors,
They dig deep, are blades,
Open wound of dumbness!
To ashes, is burned down,
Hawaii,
And I feel brutal,
Talking or writing down,
A poem on the blood.
Is painful to see one,
Injured, hurt, punctured ball,
Yet, using the index,
Pointing at the far,
Back, front, all around,
Playing with your thumb,
Up and down!
“In such a position,
Do you feel the others?
Do you feel Sudanese?
Syrians? Lebanese?
The Afghans? Iraqis?
Bloodied Persian Gulf?
Guantanamo? Abu-Ghraib?
Kabulis in Bagram?
Pakistan, Imran Khan?
And Neda and Mahsa,
Killed like sheep, in Iran?”
To ashes are burned down,
Towns, cities in Ukraine,
And I feel brutal,
Talking or writing down,
A poem on corpses, in blood.
But poets must not write,
Only of the sunrise,
Color shades in the clouds,
And the waves of beaches,
Men, women, children,
Laughing loud, half drunk.
Poets must have big hearts,
To see deep, and too wide.
Was I four?
Was I ten?
In between?
I do not remember!
Who was he?
How were we related?
I do not remember!
That day is engraved,
In my heart and brain!
I headed for Hana,
To join boys and play,
Or to be with parents,
Or maybe siblings,
Aunts? Uncles?
I do not remember!
I had left our village,
Encircled by mountains,
Was close to Shedeh,
Kooh-e-Mast far away.
He was a young shepherd,
His backpack was simple,
From wool and goat’s hair,
Around him, a small herd,
Of young goats, baby lambs,
Two or three goats, mothers,
Their breasts were covered,
With bras that matched them.
He had brought fresh bread,
With bowl, vase, of clay,
Half-filled bowl of yogurt,
Milked one goat, invited,
‘Goor-Must,’ was delicious.
I compared tendrils,
With the way she speaks,
Not her tongue but her lips,
And her eyes, chin, and cheeks.
In Jester, I believe.
In action, I believe.
Unaware,
Walks forward,
Cuts and is brutal.
He is blind,
Unaware and unwise,
He would be mesmerized,
If could see miracles, all around!
Just outside my backyard,
Have bushes, trees, vines,
Much wiser than mankind.
Look at them, observe the crawling,
By using tendrils,
Same as canes for fighting impairment.
I purchased rope to help,
They tested, flatly rejected.
They do not trust the,
Suspicious and vagueness.
Some pray with Bible,
Some Koran,
Some other religions,
I bow to,
The greatest teachers,
Children of Nature,
Pig, pigeon, squirrel,
To snake, spider,
Galaxies and magnets,
To fishes, sharks, or whales!
See many, are afraid,
Unafraid, I remain!
Life is one,
Death is once,
Afraid is half alive.
Opened can,
Heated corn.
In the pan,
Added eggs,
To be lunch.
Took it warm,
Went outside.
Came two wasps,
Flew past,
Then came back,
Pan was a Helipad.
I observed,
Bit and ate,
Just their share.
Warriors,
Are righteous.
Right after ate their share,
Flapped wings, departed.
Share the world,
Share your meal,
Share your heart.
Entertain and enjoy…
And why not?
And why not?
And why not?
Why do I?
Do not know!
I take nails and needles,
Then, push them in my veins.
I bleed, feel the pain,
Am I sick? Vehement?
Spent time in Texas,
Later, in California,
Studied, made friends,
Added to my knowledge.
Feel lost and indebted,
Like the sharks in oceans.
Also, served in Forces,
Encountered mischievous,
Blossomed inside the USA,
PENTAGON, CIA, USAIDs!
Why do I?
Do not know!
Love people,
But hate the government,
Of Yankees
Against the Africans,
Brought in as slaves,
And Natives’ massacres:
“Non-Whites are Savages!”
Why do I?
Do not know!
I take nails and needles,
And push them in my veins.
I bleed, feel the pain,
Am I sick? Vehement?
It is far different,
To be one, hear of.
It depends on the eye,
Training, locations.
“The pirates,”
We hear and sweat,
Leaves the pores,
Turns current,
We fear, are scared!
But who are the pirates?
Who defines them the best?
Anyone but themselves?
Let us go to Delta,
Nigeria, Africa…
There, we will,
Encounter,
Government,
Corrupt Shell,
Greedy investors,
Stepping on corpses,
Of a semi-dead nation.
If we care,
Boils blood,
In each vein!
We want guns,
We need guts:
“Go and fight!”
“Whom and how?”
Some may ask!
Fast and firm is replied:
“The masters, and crews,
With greed; ‘Oil seekers!’”
Being a filmmaker,
Docudrama at the center,
I must watch how others,
Plan, make, present.
I checked the NBC,
Watch the work of Engel,
Has gone to Africa,
To see the rise of Wagner.
Reporter, American,
Goes around to collect,
What he likes and favors,
Those in the USA!
I, too, dislike Wagner,
And the gangs, murderers,
Regardless of state!
Taking sides?
One of them?
No never!
What about the budget?
From whom, how, and where?
I am an independent,
In handcuffs and shackles!
His crew are well paid,
By TV, their masters!
Yankees of the USA,
Are copies of John Wayne,
(CIA invests dollars,
To make The Green Berets!)
I, an independent,
An Indie filmmaker,
An ignored, forgotten,
Die orphan in the cradle!
I beg you to kill me,
As soon as am eighty,
Not to do what he did!
As one team, we, three,
Had gone to accomplish,
The job, ordered by him.
Dense hedges of green,
Gate, Metal on Bearings,
Tall walls with electrics,
Had fences around him.
Mistrusts his neighbor,
And suspects the others,
He speaks as master,
Ordering some slaves!
Claimed to have degrees,
From many universities.
Is in love with Trump,
Has money, is well off,
Buys to sell, land, plots:
“Shall I care? Not at all!”
He looked at Andrew,
(Caucasian, white, a pale:
Come on in and observe!)
But treated Lincoln,
Our colleague, African,
Using the worst comment:
“You do not understand!”
Was that race, racism?
Or because of his age?
Or killing mother earth,
For making more Dollars?
I was lynched in the dark!
Lincoln had two poodles,
Light and dark chocolate,
One female and one male,
To become wife-husband.
Leila got pregnant,
Delivered five sisters.
He offered to sell them,
Each, for some hundreds.
Then, one of the masters,
Named the baby poodle:
“Cat! Kitten!”
We observed in wonder,
The buyer was angered:
“She is mine, I name her!”
“Why is so?” I questioned.
Man of books and research
Was prompt to answer:
“The people who have pets,
Treat them like slaves,
And kids of Indians,
In schools and churches,
The patrons gave the name,
As they wished, as wanted,
They saw them as objects,
James, Mary, or number,
Like the ones inside jails,
With, without a picture,
Why not I do the same?
Am I, not the master?
Did I not pay for her?”
I remained hushed, silent,
Was feared he might say:
“The slaves were hunted,
Then, removed in cages!”
On the way to the job
Enjoyed the sun’s smile.
Attracted, mesmerized,
Pulled aside and stopped.
Grabbed my camera,
With lens and tripod.
Aiming at my subject,
Focused to photograph.
Observed the golden sun,
Conquered the sky,
Became King and Royal.
Master sat on the throne,
Scribbled scrolls,
Many rolls, in ray form.
Mother Earth accepted,
The secret love letters.
Absorbing all of them
Into wings and feathers.
How I wished I could be,
In a hammock, sleeping,
Over there, peacefully.
Would use the blanket,
Of the fog and vapor,
Or maybe silk, mohair.
I would use anything,
Around me of nature.
Nature, you, sweetest,
You, the most devoted,
You are a birth mother,
To mankind, wilderness.
“Everything is over,
The police used wisdom,
At home are the children,”
I am told, expected,
To believe this nonsense!
These blinds, forever,
Only see the moment,
I look at the future…
See the son and daughter,
Grow independent…
They will write sad novels,
With flames on the ashes,
Ash covers the embers…
I call it trauma…
I call it drama…
Though for just a few days,
The brother, sister
Innocent children,
Were dragged everywhere!
During days and nights
With each tick of the clock,
They listened, overheard,
Whatever mother said:
“Your father is the devil!”
Everything is reversed:
“Your mother is devil…”
I call it drama…
It causes trauma…
After years, if ever,
They try to manage,
Wonder how drama,
Impacts the trauma!
It says on a public bus:
“Amber Alert is over.”
I laugh loud with anger,
Tears are painted red,
Suck blood from veins!
“Amber Alert?” Was declared!
“Amber Alert?” All weekdays!
Finally, is over!
Finally, is over!
Finally, is over!
I look at children,
Poor, little, innocent!
Were kidnapped? Stolen?
By a mother who gave birth?
What is wrong?
Have answer?
Those stinking lawyers?
Are blind? That woman?
That woman with scale?
Rotten fish, from head?
I am filled with questions,
Am searching for reasons,
Want someone to answer.
Mother and children,
Ran from the father?
The law of the fosters,
Such parents are B. S.
For the poor children!
Confused and silent,
Am ember and flame!
With a pen, once again
Dig into travels…
Write about the dangers,
Draw the risks taken,
Encircle the moments,
Of the softness, hardness,
And escapes!
Odysseus headed home,
In his heart and his veins,
Blood boiled with bubbles.
He knew,
No one else.
He slept with Siren,
And became a father!
From will?
No, never!
Back at home,
The Suitors,
And his wife,
Children,
With their lives,
All wandered!
"Is he dead,
On the way?"
No news!
All silence,
And silence,
And darkness!
Silence is a mother,
To the thoughts,
To judgments!
Odysseus was aware,
Only he, no one else!
Here, in the city,
In the city where I live,
See many gatherings,
In parks, on the streets.
There, many come to me,
Lecture me and want me,
To accept and believe:
“Jesus died for you, me.”
I stop, questioning:
“Who was he? Why did he?”
No logic in replies,
Too simple, know nothing!
In my heart, I feel sad,
For Jesus with this gang!
Whomever he maybe,
He must sign treaties,
Treaty for long peace,
I believe he can’t win,
Not with such an army!
I recall the proverb:
“Tell me of your friends.”
Reason of the questioner:
“If smart, they raise you,
If no good, they fail you.”
Studied the religions,
Most, if not all of them,
At the start were great,
Then fell and scattered,
All cracked or shattered.
In them, the wrong people
Acted like the worst venom,
Divided, lashed, murdered.
This writing is a testament to empathy,
Rooted in the depths of my heart's affinity.
It flows from my experiences,
My sincerity and true,
It is the essence of my travels,
My care and the pursued research.
For I love both people,
Ukraine to the Philippines,
I care deeply for their nations,
And my heart lives among them.
I shared stories and meals,
Embraced their struggles,
Saw their wounds,
Felt their ideals.
Like ants under giants,
They have borne heavy weights,
Colonizers' greed,
And deceivers' false states.
To the Philippines, they said:
"We'll save you from Spain,"
Yet colonization followed,
Inflicted lasting pain.
Then, as cobbles,
The colonizer,
Trod on the Filipinos' pride,
Exploited their loyalty,
Used them for a rollercoaster ride.
Now to Ukrainians,
They promise liberation's hand,
But they too will be used,
Their dreams turned to sand!
In the face of this history,
I pen these lines,
A witness to their struggles,
To the hopes, also the confines.
For I stand with both nations,
United in heart,
In empathy, understanding,
And the solidarity of art.
I wasted too much time,
Writing of Donald Trump.
I know him as one of,
The racists who know how,
To gather wealth, climb,
Using the corpses of…
With claims, they walk tall:
“BETTER RACE IS SMART.”
Such people have no faith,
Abuse their guides, helpers,
Like the paths, vehicles,
Blindly, unaware,
Of the need for props!
Those thrown under the bus,
Awakened, have survived,
In them boils their blood,
Turned vicious, stand up,
Against the “Evil Boss.”
In Richmond of BC,
Saw houses, very big,
No one there, empty!
Also, saw some people,
Carry bags on shoulders,
With carts and bicycles.
Such houses take me to,
Yesteryears’ memories.
In Iran, past and now,
And Ernest in La Paz.
He was named after Che,
The famous known rebel.
I look at my posters,
Drawings and pictures,
Mesmerized, find myself.
Keep thinking of Ernests,
Borgnine was an actor,
Hemingway, the author,
Also, Che who rebelled,
Then many boys and girls.
He told me, in La Paz,
Pointed at a big house:
“Here is where my dad,
Was killed after torture!”
His mother accountant
Of the El Che movement,
Was caught, imprisoned,
While she was pregnant!
My friend, young Ernest
Disturbed and displaced,
Found solace in the drug,
Took in much and left us.
In my backyard,
Planted vegetables,
Tomato, cucumbers.
Mint grew, harvested!
There, saw the spiders!
Though great, is normal!
Asked questions:
“What for? Why?”
Some told me:
“From God.”
Some tell me:
“Nature wants!”
I am not satisfied!
I am not satisfied!
I am not satisfied!
The insects know green,
Master is the Spider,
In hunting, setting web!
Can’t sleep,
Keep thinking!
Ask questions:
“Who taught? How?”
Repeated, are replies,
Repeated, are replies,
Repeated, are replies!
I am not satisfied!
I am not satisfied!
I am not satisfied!
Who taught the spider?
Mastery, making web!!!
Joe Biden,
By sending clusters,
Don’t tell me that you care,
Don’t tell me you love them!
Split is your tongue,
Venomous, stings but,
Sweetly to do the wrong.
First Nations realized,
About you and your kind,
From the church and Royals.
The time was Buffalo’s,
Treaties were being signed!
I happened to learn of,
The Yankees’ kind of love,
In the churches, squares,
When opposing Spain,
Mainly in Cuba…
You sent a ship,
Filled with arms,
For flaring a war!
Colonized the Pacific,
Destroyed old and young,
For many years, decades,
And Japan was blamed!
Now Ukraine is the same,
You supply cluster,
For having footsteps:
“We will send the experts!”
You do what your popes did,
They tortured and murdered,
The rebels as the pagans,
You, puppet, of the devils,
Warmongers, arms-makers!
This is not a poem,
And is not prose,
Not rhymed with meter,
And not new, nor ancient.
This is what in my mother’s tongue,
Is called: “Dare-e-Del!”
Can I translate?
“No,” if I want to be honest.
Languages are not translatable!
Never, not even in the time of media,
Not even with technology and signs.
Languages are the outcome of,
Years. Decades, centuries,
Of coexistence with one another,
And the winds and the mountains,
Or in conclusion, “With Nature.”
How can an Inuit define the buffalo,
In the way that a Cree of Prairies did?
How can the Quechua translate,
The waves of the water,
As do the Urus?
How can the people around Caspian,
Translate the palm trees, dates,
And the camels baking bread?
How can a conquistador understand,
Or translate the language of ‘Rivers,’
‘Tagalog,’ or ‘Aymara?’
How could the children of Abraham,
The self-declared agents of Jehovah,
Understand the gods of Greece, Persia,
And the Andes, or Himalayas?
No, this is not a poem,
This is not prose of new, or ancient,
This is the evaporated tears of my eyes,
Risen from my heart, after decades of,
Befriending with the people of the world,
Not asking them about their genders,
Cultures, genes, or DNA…
This is coded writing between my eyes,
My heart, my mind, and my craziness,
Like the letters written with vinegar,
To be visible to read, in front of the flame.
And you can be the flame,
The flame that I see when I sit,
In my patio, watching my plants,
And my flowers, those that I know,
By the names I have borrowed,
Or with no name, which I prefer.
This is the kind of writing that,
You look at the smartness of the,
Spider with its delicate web,
To catch the insects…
The insects that each,
Are smart, smarter, smartest,
Flying around or crawling,
On your skin, in your hair,
And there are times,
When find no place to go,
Except in your nose or eye!
This is the talk between,
The cells of my body,
With a brain that knows,
But doesn’t know,
It is a miracle…
Whose miracle?
God’s?
It is an easy answer,
To get over with it!
Big Bang?
“Just happened?”
That makes it even harder,
This is a “Dard-e-Del!”
Dard-e-del with me, myself,
And with my friends who send messages,
Not knowing that they, in all their loveliness,
Are no more than some monkeys and parrots.
“Hey, you,” I want to say:
“I received this from many others,
They, too, think that they are the first.”
And that is why I do not forward the messages,
Even if the message itself insists that I should.
You can give this writing a name,
But not me, I feel mean to do so.
How can I not talk of the “Amber Alert?”
Mother kidnapping her own child, or children?
Who says so? The law? Who sets the law?
Didn’t the law call the Blacks slaves,
That can be owned, and raped by the owners?
Didn’t the law authorize the church and the
RCMP to scoop children of varied ages,
And force them to live in residential schools,
To be brainwashed like the soldiers?
And what do the soldiers do?
Anything but destruction and murder,
Under a different definition?
War? Defending the right and righteous?
And then, the killers are known as:
“Veterans!”
No, this is not a poem,
Neither is it prose of new, or ancient,
This is “Dard-e-Del!”
Talk between the feelings and the brain!
He is my prophet,
He was, is the savior.
He was not just a Cree,
But for us, all Nations!
Big Bear be “Forgotten?”
No, never, not ever…
Many of the ‘Reserves,’
Are named after greats.
But the best of the bests,
Rejected being caged!
My belief and my faith
Comes of that prophet!
A girl in the suitcase?
What? A fact? Or fiction?
I heard of a young girl,
A lover, fiancé,
Her love fought her wisdom:
“…airplane had landed…”
The rest is like Quebec,
The Quebec’s third fire:
“Was work of two lovers,
Their love was forbidden!”
The girl was a hybrid,
And her love was a white,
Problems with church, law!
They found their only way:
“Burn the town and escape!”
Out of sight of people,
They had to run away,
So, they did, set a fire!
Everyone was rushing,
Nobody was watching.
The city was charcoal,
Ash covered many homes.
Master asked about the girl,
And no one found the boy.
The lovers won the war,
Against the church and law!
In customs, the suitcase,
Was opened to be checked,
In it was “A DEAD GIRL!”
If Love faces Wisdom,
Wisdom is the loser!
Inside our parking lot
Pet shop and restaurant
Are neighbors, wall to wall.
I stop for a while,
Stand with open eyes.
Read the signs,
“The wild birds,”
A “Sushi restaurant.”
One saves the cat and dog,
Other serves the fish raw.
First wonder then ponder,
In despair and anger:
“What are we?”
“Human?”
Feel ashamed,
Embarrassed,
Crazy human!
Envy the dinosaurs,
Envision the mammoths.
That is our destiny,
I see them in waiting.
We consumed their bodies,
As oil and gasoline,
Who will use our bodies?
“As what?” “When?”
Shirtless man on a saddle,
Pedaled an old bicycle,
Pulling a cart of shoppers.
Looked at me, in his eyes,
Reflected: “What the Fak?”
He knew I knew,
He ignored the bylaw!
He murmured: “What the Fak!”
Then shouted: “What the Fak!”
Using his mid finger,
Repeated: “What the Fak!”
I channeled in his heart,
And swam to his mind:
“No one cares, why should I?”
Read details in his face:
“Look at me, am homeless!”
Going to the job site
Stopped on the roadside,
Inhaled some fresh air,
And chatted with nature.
Felt thunder in my head,
Stormed and rained shower.
The drops were questions,
Asked about Hell, Heaven,
And the creeks and Havens.
Asked about the clouds,
Rain, showers, and oceans.
Asked about the dolphins,
And the sharks and the whales.
Asked about the crows,
And eagles and ravens.
Asked about Big Ben and,
The Bible’s prophets,
Adam, Eve, and Noah,
And Sara, Abraham.
“What about God, himself?”
“What about Testaments?”
“Are they not dream-like?
“Are they not full of lies?
Heard the roar of a cougar,
Saw the shadow of a bear,
“Hey, stop,” sang the bird.
They advised, rightly said:
“Look around see others,
Go and be one of them,
Live like lamb, a chicken,
Or be a pig, horse, cattle,
Mimic sheep, join the herd!”
Architects, as I know,
Calculate foundations,
To get there use brains.
Juliet, my lover,
Is quite different!
Like the Maid of the Mist,
Has foggy, hazy dreams,
For the brain has no need!
Lives in the palaces
Crystallites of vapors!
A word is like the wind,
Can wound her fatally!
Ones who know the cascades
Must have seen their custom.
They act like the free world,
Capitalists and Europe…
The highest is always,
The place that enters,
The flow of water.
If by chance it exceeds
The edges and sidings
Then, maybe, possibly,
We observe the wetting,
Of stones, and the cliffs.
The upper one percent
Exactly are the same,
With very deep pockets.
Do the fountains ponder?
Know the law of nature?
“All of us came naked,
Our abodes, palaces,
Will remain for others,
And we will leave naked!”
The fences, collections,
Keep apart, separate,
As if guests to others,
Finally, like fountains
Are slammed, in return.
I love our mother earth,
She gave birth, is grave,
To me, you, and the rest.
So, what is this fussing?
Why keep on collecting?
What joy is in hoarding?
By a fir, in the hedge,
Saw a leaf, brown, dead.
Placed it in my paddle,
Planned to write a poem.
I had thought to focus,
On its bones and its veins,
And if could, its flesh.
All were worn and damaged,
And the liquids had vapored.
But, sadly, the paddle
Had lost it, disappeared
What had me inspired…
So, I wrote a eulogy,
For a leaf, lost friend.
What was it?
Do not know,
Whatever,
Not Maple!
They teach me,
And I learn,
As I wish,
Not their way.
They insist on the essay,
For getting good grades.
They name a few books,
Related to the subject.
Their lenses, binoculars,
May focus on the depths.
But I see their steps,
Is leading to the fire.
They gather in a circle,
Limited to themselves.
They do not know of others,
Talk and walks, and cultures.
I see designs, ways, manners,
Each, and all, having power,
To behave, show, and present,
Unique arts, beauty, attraction.
They focus on the pond,
My pool is deep in the sky.
The point at one hill,
I lean on all the peaks.
They teach me and I learn,
As I wish, not their way…
Interviewed CBC,
He answered, I heard him.
Obvious, clear,
Heard him loud,
Spoke, talked,
Of what passed,
What went on.
“To school they took me,
It was jail, gas chamber,
Seemingly, for torture,
To be killed by butchers."
"Killed our tongue,
Our culture,
The manner to converse,
Our siblings, and parents."
They erased memories,
The warmth of families.
The school he went in,
Only took, no giving.
Now, David an artist,
Masters in sculpting,
Carves stones to speak,
By shouting, silently.
Ruben bagged all his hate,
Gathered tools, converted,
Went searching in nature,
Found myths of ancestors,
Retold with sculptures.
“The stones in my hand,
Flex like the hive’s wax,”
Concludes, says at last,
Very calm, and relaxed:
“In my den past is past.”
My friend is Black,
From the Caribbean.
During our meetings,
We talk of history.
Has heard of F. Douglas,
As well as Uncle Tom.
Not knowing either one,
Is aware that the latter,
Is some curse and insult.
About why he knows not.
I told him about the book,
And an adapted movie…
Looked at me, his eyes red:
“Was he some betrayer?
Sold the black Africans?
And praised the master,
That abused the slaves?”
Time was short, we parted,
Before asking the question:
“What about F. Douglas?”
Must insist, must repeat:
“Do not whine and cry,
Be a freedom fighter,
He is a great role model.”
Spent life in a cage,
Am free, but too late.
Did not know I was an egg,
Did not know I was a bird,
Did not know of the things,
Like flight, and the wings…
Had I known then, I could,
Fly away, leave, escape.
Now free, powerless,
Am in dust and on earth.
Invaders took our nest,
They looted, killed parents,
And sisters, brothers…
Was an egg, an orphan,
With parents as fosters,
Hatched feeling strange!
Was thrown into a cage,
unaware, and well-fed,
I heard the sigh in bliss!
Now, free, and aware,
What I want is my death,
I envy the lucky ignorant…
Am I a ghost?
You in me,
I am you,
So, hate me,
To hate you!
You were a guest,
I fed you,
Gave you shade,
Home, shelter.
You, as an axe,
Axe of faith,
With the gun,
Gained power.
You forced me,
To convert,
You killed me,
Killed my soul!
You sawed me,
Made me dust,
Then swept,
Under the rugs!
Am in search,
For my tongue,
For my robes,
For my ways!
To be heard,
Use your tongue,
To be seen,
Wear your gown!
You in me,
I am you,
So, hate me,
To hate you!
On the floor,
On carpet,
Sat, small,
Little girl,
A toddler.
Had a toy,
Played with,
Joyfully, happily.
Came mother,
Brought toy,
And father,
Did the same.
With more toys,
More chances,
From them,
Could select.
Then, later,
Aunts, uncles,
Each brought,
Another present.
She, the cute little girl
Was a drop in the ocean.
Played but not often,
Like a toy she became,
Another, among them…
Old, new, small, large,
She was lost among them.
Many toys around her,
Lost contact forgot them.
When I searched, traveled,
Met young and old people,
Now, I feel like that girl...
Exactly at the border,
Canada-USA’s…
Each side of the street
One of the two countries.
I braked and stopped,
Saw squirrels run or jump.
“Be careful and watch out,”
I, almost, said out loud…
Squirrels, like monkeys
Turned around, looking at me.
They realized what I said,
Back and forth, went, played.
I could read their actions:
“Go, get lost, we don’t care.”
Many face the judges,
Mostly get a jail term,
For crossing a border!
But the devil squirrels
Do not care, they play.
Admire what I see,
With no gut to copy,
These little animals!
Look at me in the mirror,
Laugh at me, one useless,
Creature, with the claims
Of knowledge, progress!
Some corrupt or madmen
Have gathered and written,
Books of faiths, religions,
And laws for obedience!
Feel tipsy like oceans.
You and I are two sides,
Exactly like a mirror.
Apt,
Front?
Or,
Rear?
You spend time, observe,
Shows on the monitor.
I relax, entertain,
And chat with the items.
Kooh-I- Noor
In crown
And scone
To sit on
And spoon
Which remained,
From goods,
Of Charles One!
What was used?
Where? How? Why?
Things have changed,
And will change,
Coronating is a game!
My ancient history
With many mysteries
Forms chasms, very deep,
Quite old and mundane.
I hear when whispers,
Many words in Cipher,
It cracks the secret:
“Coronation is a game!”
Taiwanese by her birth,
For chemo, was hairless,
She drove, came over…
She reached us right after,
We finished the job, then,
Meant to leave and depart.
“What is wrong? Am I late?”
Were her words, very first.
I told her, explained:
“We fixed the phone cable.”
Saw tears while she talked,
I asked her how she was.
On her cheeks two rivers,
Wore scarf, well-behaved,
Is sick with breast cancer.
Rejects her, her husband:
“Was six when came here,
To him, I, am useless…”
Spoke of her young son,
Government, also laws,
Relatives and friends…
Counts moments to fall dead:
“Not much left, am hopeless,
Each person has own life,
To fight for and survive…”
No ear, hand, or heart,
To help some half-alive,
In her, I heard a shout,
Deep in a cave, too dark,
Scarf, a mural on a wall,
In her eyes long mirage,
I gave her my biz-card:
“Please call if you must.”
For many, many years
The sellers of the faiths
Lied to do business...
Rabbis and Synagogues,
Bible, churches, bishops,
A mosque, mufti, mullah,
Are copied and pasted!
Some told us Arabic,
Is the tongue of Allah,
And Allah is their God.
For proof, read Koran,
Mentioning Abraham.
Whatever their basis,
Abraham is a lie,
Juxtapose with Sara!
The cheaters, charlatans,
Use these names to fool us.
Poor were our ancestors,
Since with will, pressure,
Accepted, then bowed yes.
Those who had rejected,
Faced sword, cell, or torture.
Sure, beyond all of these,
Cheap words and nonsense,
God must be if was or if exists.
He drives next to me,
It is funny how he sits.
The thick trunk of a tree,
Straight, un-moving.
Both his hands on the wheel,
Seems to hold a bad dog’s leash.
Only looks straight,
Knows not of right and left.
Such kinds of drivers,
Are quite dangerous.