Hug

Need a hug and cuddle,

Need friend with shoulder,

Need somewhere to rest head.

Am tired!

Am tired! 

Am tired!

Black is my elbow,

Peeled skin off fingers, 

Hot tray has burned them!

The palms of hands thickened,

The soles, heels, have hardened, 

Skin of concrete is cover to flesh!

When remember women, 

Laborers, working there,

Want to head for deserts, 

Become waves in oceans,

In night’s cave hide away!

Want to shout, be thunder:

“Why the hell injustice?”

Need whispers of friends, 

And comfort of shoulders.

See the same laborers,

Cheating like gravel,

To last long and be safe,

Walk on their own friends!

I shout and heart breaks: 

“Why the hell be steps,

For the Goddamn master?”

Shattered into pieces,

Need a hug and cuddle,

Need friend with shoulder,

Need the chain of mountains.

 Music of Andes,

Symphonia playing,

One beer, I feel good. 

I listen to most talks,

For reading, spend time, 

Read from lefts and rights.

Rather stay neutral, 

Prefer not to categories.

When science talks of life, 

Non-mammals and mammals,

Earth, oceans, and the ponds

To the worms, birds, and rocks, 

Think about the anting crows, 

Curious, I remain mesmerized!

Feel worse than ancestors,

Without tools and science…

Thanks to churches, shrines,

Synagogues and the mosques,

Have rejected their God…

But also need someone,

For times that am alone, 

To cry, ask question:

“How did it all happen?”

Wish could find replacement,

For the “Big Bang” banner…

No, no, no to books of

Abraham and his likes,

Lie priests and rabbis,

Even worse are mullahs!

“Ignorance is bliss,”

Lucky are the women,

Who work at conveyors!

They cheat, steal, little,

From time; long breaks,

Get home when dead tired! 

Real Free

It is said: “Be free like a bird!”

Free is lousy panhandler…

Saw him walk, did not care,

Was free…birds are caged! 

One word poem  

Am looking for a word,

A simple plain word,

Like maybe, yes, or no.

It can be verb, adverb,

Adjective, proverb,

Whatever, valuable!

Want to call it: “Poem,”

Treasure and concise in open.

Want it to be simple,

To the top and lower!

Synonyms, accepted,

Must define the wetness!

May have felt and may not,

Falling of raindrop,

In mid of summertime,

On scorched, burning dust.

Require, am in search,

For word that explains,

The changes, the smell,

Earth hosting new guest, 

Everything that happens, 

And the feelings, we get…

Is drop’s death a life?

Can it be “Devotion?”

Can it be “Sacrifice?”

Can it be “Resilience?”

Can it be “Tolerance?”

All in all, “Survival?”

“Petrichor,” I am told!

Can I call it poem?

Though single, is it well? 

Satisfied? I am not, anymore! 

Century, to many

Is figure, like others,

Before it, and after

A one…then…

Not for me and neither

For a tortured, murdered,

And buried in the caves,

In Tulsa and elsewhere,

Or exiled… 

Via mountains, waters!

Century is long time,

If abused and deprived,

From the rights of life,

As Native, mother, child,

Or a daughter, old, young!

I am well-aware since,

Ancestors have suffered,

For thousands of the years,

By locals, invaders…

I am a particle,

Risen high and fallen, 

Too many times, again,

Of, from life’s grace!

I am an ancient one,

From the Babylon

Or Elam, Siberia,

My friends in Tulsa

I know the meaning of

Century, since it meant,

Same to me, ancestors…

It means: “Run for shelter,

On your back a worn shirt,

And all roads end in Rome, 

You and dog share same den!” 

Is it a week already?

Lost track of the time! 

Does it matter?

I mean to them, 

To the kids,

Those murdered!

Want to write,

But what?

Do not dare,

Try to count,

Hundreds? Thousands?

Millions? Trillions? Zillions?

What are these shoes?

What are these toys?

Cannot fool me,

With the candles burning,

With the papers filling pages,

With the tango that wind dances,

With Ottawa’s half-mast flag! 

Is it a week already?

Is it a month?

Is it a year? A decade?

A century? Or centuries?

With clinched fists, my thoughts roar: 

“Paint the European progress, 

The genocides, Red Rivers, 

In ravines, sail of the Noah’s Arch!” 

My heart says:

“Date goes back to the 

Days of steam engines

And textile machines,

And the gun that killed!”

  For months, years, 

we shouted:

“They kill us with censor!”

You smiled, went away,

Now, thanks to Internet,

See that you, too, 

suffer! 

Today I, 

After long,

Went shopping,

I purchased ice cream.

It is made from milk,

Milk of cows I know well…

They are like the people, 

Plato’s, in the cave, 

Know not sun!

They are fooled,

Angry, I feel them!

Trained to go to line,

For little sweet hay?

Machine-wash the nipples,

Sterilized, milking them?

What is life, birth to death?

Being born for abuse? 

Where is joy, motherhood?

Where do end children?

Parted to be robot and return? 

And the man who buys, sells:

“What are they? Animals!”

Did not man say the same?

Of slaves? Indigenous?

Lucky are mentioned cows,

They eat hay even if electronic,

The worse eat garbage, bread, 

In bags of plastic, recycled,  

Such cattle end in the hamburger! 

Want to shout and rebel,

Against mankind’s system!

Arrived for conference,

Already, she was there.

Six of us were to be,

We spoke while waiting.

She drives to Langley, 

Starts work too early,

From silver morning.

“Am mother and cannot,

Work any other time…

”Was enough, to tell me...

Back at home, cleaning,

Running life, and cooking,

For husband, and their kids!

Bravo, you, woman!

To you I, lift my hat! 

Am not ant on the leaf,

And fallen, off tree,

In fear, and shouting!

Wear a tiny backpack,

Roam around country,

See the cows in dairy,

And those in bakery,

To planes and the ships, 

See people travelling,

And others while biking!

Everywhere is commerce,

Ninety-nine, one percent,

With clocks, and marking:

“Employed, am working!”

Those in the palaces

Are busy accumulating! 

Those in farms, factories

Are machines, surviving!

Time clock is set so

Even walk to the door

Laborers must afford!

Abuse is everywhere,

Abuse of cows, cattle,

Abuse of lamb, chicken,

Abuse of the workers,

And all the immigrants!

Media broadcast

The news but alas

If among accepted

And after the censor.

Tiananmen, Belarus,

Indicate use of boots,

But Tulsa and Kamloops 

Are, in the jars, in darkness! 

Want to write a poem,

Same as wrote an essay,

“The Road to Wigan Pier!”

At the end mentioned “Che!”

Result was obvious:

Anger makes rebellion!

Took me, to the scale:

Figures say: “Overweight!”

It is not fat, flesh,

Is weight of heart’s kettle,

Blood boils and thickens!

The Tulsa’s massacre,

The Kamloops, children,

Palestine, Israel,

And Yemen, forgotten,

Syria on fire,

By Russia, USA,

They compete and wrestle: 

“Sell more tanks, jet planes!” 

Kill the bear and deer,

Preserve ecosystem! 

This causes overweight,

Not eating, sleep, rest!

Want to shout but silence,

Overcomes, I question: 

“Which is worse,

Politics, business?”

Pen, dizzy, loses own way, 

With British Home Children:

“Shipped to the Commonwealth?”

My answer was simple:

Then Royals, now, U.S. cause unrest! 

 Music of Andes,

Symphonia playing,

One beer, I feel good. 

Helpless were pain killers,

Or the pens and paper! 

I collapsed breathless,

Acted like dumb and deaf, 

Could not write, finish, end, 

What he called and mentioned!

Call from the Texas 

Spoke of fences, walls,

And borders, and Cold War:

“Their device to kill us!”

I met him in Russia, 

Then one of officials

From the UN’s side!

His father was a Khan,

Is quite nice, smart, 

Now drives the trucks!

Talked politely and shy:

“This is how can survive,

Disgust it as my job!”

Already meant to write,

He added some spice! 

My colleagues in UN

Had many clients, 

In Russia’s Petersburg,

So, he was rejected!!!

I reread his file, 

Now is USA… 

Confused, desperate,

His sister, old mother, 

In the Yankees’ culture 

Were in shock, unaware!

My mouth has frozen,

All the words are lifeless,

Are confined to jail’s cells, 

Superpowers make borders,

How to write, what to say?

Once, Brits and Russia

Marked a land as Afghans’: 

“Neutral Zone between us!” 

Big part of this landlock, 

Is target for the bombs,

So, is a testing ground, 

For all sides in Cold War!

His impaired old sister 

Is in Balkh, has remained! 

The mother’s oldest son, 

Was kidnapped and murdered,

Ashgabat destroyed her youngest! 

Enemies evil law

For killing old Iran:  

“Vaporize, hang cultures, 

Plow wrong, then harvest!” 

Among the warmongers 

Afghans’ blood is worthless!

Governments there are like, 

A day, nights seasons of

North Pole the dusk, dawn!

Plenty, like caller’s 

Siblings, old mother,

Are in pain and suffer! 

He, Muslim, Hazara,

In cold war, lost father,

With Reagan, Gorbachev, 

Mingling skies, Earth,

Went dreams, hope, friends! 

She and I chose table,

Sat ordered hamburger.

While there and in waiting

We spoke, kept chatting.

Liked looking in her eyes,

They sampled seas, skies.

Rippled her pupils,

As if were two dead waves:

“Beauty means woman!”

Her hair a midday sun

Soft, floating, bright…

Her forehead, eyebrows, 

Eyelashes, cheeks to mouth,

Were covered with makeup,

Beige powder and cream,

Wore rosy lipstick…

Suddenly a cloud 

Covered her, she was out,

Faded in ex-colleague,

Worker of bakery,

A sad and old painting!

She, new immigrant

Came from poverty,

Of makeup had nothing!

Both her eyes and her hair,

Were black and despair!

She worked hard, I helped her,

Pushed the bins, bags, bread,

Motor turned and crushed,

All the garbage and junk, 

That became food, cattle’s,

Hamburger was trash, plastic!  

Found a job, finally,

With a large bakery! 

Soon after I noticed:

“Such living is not me!”

Not for me!

Not for me!

World around, I have been,

Hunger, thirst, I have seen!

Is too hard to observe,

Dough, bread, go to waste!

I have seen, people with

The draught and famine,

Harvesting shortages

Of crop and the wheat!

Saw them eating barley!

But in large factory

The rulers are machines,

Men, women, hardly think,

They obey the setting!

Workers are like camels,

Blinded, turning mill,

Round and round, like Mary,

They crush cotton seeds,

Have no rights of talking!

Commercial factories

Have no heart, do not see,

They lecture, assure me: 

“We are kind and thinking,

We help poor, and in need, 

Feed cattle with the waste!”

Here, I am misfit!

One word poem  

Am looking for a word,

A simple plain word,

Like maybe, yes, or no.

It can be verb, adverb,

Adjective, proverb,

Whatever, valuable!

Want to call it: “Poem,”

Treasure and concise in open.

Want it to be simple,

To the top and lower!

Synonyms, accepted,

Must define the wetness!

May have felt and may not,

Falling of raindrop,

In mid of summertime,

On scorched, burning dust.

Require, am in search,

For word that explains,

The changes, the smell,

Earth hosting new guest, 

Everything that happens, 

And the feelings, we get…

Is drop’s death a life?

Can it be “Devotion?”

Can it be “Sacrifice?”

Can it be “Resilience?”

Can it be “Tolerance?”

All in all, “Survival?”

“Petrichor,” I am told!

Can I call it poem?

Though single, is it well? 

Satisfied? I am not, anymore! 

Century, to many

Is figure, like others,

Before it, and after

A one…then…

Not for me and neither

For a tortured, murdered,

And buried in the caves,

In Tulsa and elsewhere,

Or exiled… 

Via mountains, waters!

Century is long time,

If abused and deprived,

From the rights of life,

As Native, mother, child,

Or a daughter, old, young!

I am well-aware since,

Ancestors have suffered,

For thousands of the years,

By locals, invaders…

I am a particle,

Risen high and fallen, 

Too many times, again,

Of, from life’s grace!

I am an ancient one,

From the Babylon

Or Elam, Siberia,

My friends in Tulsa

I know the meaning of

Century, since it meant,

Same to me, ancestors…

It means: “Run for shelter,

On your back a worn shirt,

And all roads end in Rome, 

You and dog share same den!” 

Is it a week already?

Lost track of the time! 

Does it matter?

I mean to them, 

To the kids,

Those murdered!

Want to write,

But what?

Do not dare,

Try to count,

Hundreds? Thousands?

Millions? Trillions? Zillions?

What are these shoes?

What are these toys?

Cannot fool me,

With the candles burning,

With the papers filling pages,

With the tango that wind dances,

With Ottawa’s half-mast flag! 

Is it a week already?

Is it a month?

Is it a year? A decade?

A century? Or centuries?

With clinched fists, my thoughts roar: 

“Paint the European progress, 

The genocides, Red Rivers, 

In ravines, sail of the Noah’s Arch!” 

My heart says:

“Date goes back to the 

Days of steam engines

And textile machines,

And the gun that killed!”

Today I, 

After long,

Went shopping,

I purchased ice cream.

It is made from milk,

Milk of cows I know well…

They are like the people, 

Plato’s, in the cave, 

Know not sun!

They are fooled,

Angry, I feel them!

Trained to go to line,

For little sweet hay?

Machine-wash the nipples,

Sterilized, milking them?

What is life, birth to death?

Being born for abuse? 

Where is joy, motherhood?

Where do end children?

Parted to be robot and return? 

And the man who buys, sells:

“What are they? Animals!”

Did not man say the same?

Of slaves? Indigenous?

Lucky are mentioned cows,

They eat hay even if electronic,

The worse eat garbage, bread, 

In bags of plastic, recycled,  

Such cattle end in the hamburger! 

Want to shout and rebel,

Against mankind’s system!

  For months, years, 

we shouted:

“They kill us with censor!”

You smiled, went away,

Now, thanks to Internet,

See that you, too, 

suffer! 

Arrived for conference,

Already, she was there.

Six of us were to be,

We spoke while waiting.

She drives to Langley, 

Starts work too early,

From silver morning.

“Am mother and cannot,

Work any other time…

”Was enough, to tell me...

Back at home, cleaning,

Running life, and cooking,

For husband, and their kids!

Bravo, you, woman!

To you I, lift my hat! 

Am not ant on the leaf,

And fallen, off tree,

In fear, and shouting!

Wear a tiny backpack,

Roam around country,

See the cows in dairy,

And those in bakery,

To planes and the ships, 

See people travelling,

And others while biking!

Everywhere is commerce,

Ninety-nine, one percent,

With clocks, and marking:

“Employed, am working!”

Those in the palaces

Are busy accumulating! 

Those in farms, factories

Are machines, surviving!

Time clock is set so

Even walk to the door

Laborers must afford!

Abuse is everywhere,

Abuse of cows, cattle,

Abuse of lamb, chicken,

Abuse of the workers,

And all the immigrants!

Media broadcast

The news but alas

If among accepted

And after the censor.

Tiananmen, Belarus,

Indicate use of boots,

But Tulsa and Kamloops 

Are, in the jars, in darkness! 

Want to write a poem,

Same as wrote an essay,

“The Road to Wigan Pier!”

At the end mentioned “Che!”

Result was obvious:

Anger makes rebellion!

Took me, to the scale:

Figures say: “Overweight!”

It is not fat, flesh,

Is weight of heart’s kettle,

Blood boils and thickens!

The Tulsa’s massacre,

The Kamloops, children,

Palestine, Israel,

And Yemen, forgotten,

Syria on fire,

By Russia, USA,

They compete and wrestle: 

“Sell more tanks, jet planes!” 

Kill the bear and deer,

Preserve ecosystem! 

This causes overweight,

Not eating, sleep, rest!

Want to shout but silence,

Overcomes, I question: 

“Which is worse,

Politics, business?”

Pen, dizzy, loses own way, 

With British Home Children:

“Shipped to the Commonwealth?”

My answer was simple:

Then Royals, now, U.S. cause unrest! 

I recall when my Mom,

Praying, asked her God,

For my foes to be dumb!

Democrats are lucky,

Their foe is Marjorie,

Deep and far, fingering

In the nest of power,

That stings poisonous, 

For biting has big fangs!

Of “History,” I keep thinking,

Makes me sit, keep laughing!

Look at the books in the shelves,

Well preserved, thin, thick, covered!

And the librarian declares:

“Are ancient and valuable!”

I laugh like crazy,

Tears keep falling,

No, am not crying!

From Nazca, Tabas 

Lift capsules to space, 

Astronauts are united, 

With the eyes of brain, 

We visualize, remember…

Remember the stones,

Small, large, all chiseled,

Flat-faced, and with curves.

Some have many layers,

As if books with pages!

Crash land in the desert,

We encounter mud vases!

To them we are strangers, 

Khayyam’s is the greatest:

“Once this vase was like me,

Love-filled, tied to the misery,

And that handle, was a hand, 

Around the neck of his angel.”

“History?” I question, know,

Is not in those books, written,

For the cruel royals, emperors, 

And the lies, gilded by Tsars,

Overall, history is in rebellions! 

Today is, day, in which, 

I hear demanding:

“You better go confess!”

Today I, feel am caught, 

By limbo, in my mind:  

“Do I have to confess?”

Today I listen to 

View of Ms. Manstey…

Today I watch part of

Rear Window of Hitchcock!

Today I, must reread,

Some poems of Shamlu…

All of them, in a way,

Compare the prison, freedom!

“The crowd, so many,
Fill the cells, squares!” 

And I am…as I was…

In limbo of right, wrong

 You talk of Abraham,

Are you deaf? Or a Dumb? 

Guess you are kind of both!

Far too long, you ignored, 

Slogan: “Yankee…home!” 

Take your knee off my neck,

Then observe what happens! 

By trunk, used trunk, 

To eat of treetop.

Stepped on tiny ant,

It cricked, was cracked!

After time little one, 

Crawled in the eye of…

Elephant that lost sight,

Found no food, therefore, died! 

Honestly, I envy,

The birds when gliding.

Some flap, and rudder,

They float forever.

No need for jet, engine,

Or the birds’ flapping.

Envy them, I envy! 

 Suggested:

“Flush this language,

”Meant Yankees’, 

British English:

“…

look at the Bear’s meanings!”     

  For months, years, 

we shouted:

“They kill us with censor!”

You smiled, went away,

Now, thanks to Internet,

See that you, too, 

suffer!

You got it?  

 
If people know about

Bakeries, restaurants,

Will lose their appetite,

For going, eat outside! 

A thousand and half, years 

Rotated Sun, Moon, Earth,

Ash covered, most embers!

My parents, died, are gone,

They lived a great life,

Quite rich, filled with love. 

They believed their bloods,

Were, as told them mullahs. 

If so, I am hybrid,

To French, a Métis.

But being researcher.

Hungry for knowledge,

I went after core, base,

Inside books, in science,

The show widely differs!

My mother, by no means

Was grand, grandchild,

Of Islam’s prophet!

Poor woman, brainwashed,

As racist, she would fight,

Fact’s ember never dies, 

I blew ash aside…

Had we been equal,

My effort would not come!

Did the same for El Che,

And sure, soon, or later

Comes to light Bin Laden!

Russia, China, others,

Israel’s supporters, 

Peace lies in the justice,

Injustice causes pain,

With revolts, bloodshed! 

Today, I,

Like mostly,

Am truly boiling,

With the thoughts

Within me 

On fire; bubbling!

Today fight,

With two Charles,

Aznavour and Chaplin!

One with songs,

Another with movies!

Shout at them:

“Why the hell?”

Why the hell?

Why the hell?

I cry till tears,

Fill all the containers,

Carried by conveyors,

In the Chaplin’s movie:

“Modern Times”

Then freezes my voice,

Like song of Aznavour!

Today I am fighting,

With clouds and trees,

With Goddamn holiday,

For a long dead queen!

I never could like her,

She was some big liar,

Was a perfect actor, 

Abuses with pretention!

Look at her tea-parties,

Who made them?

Who used them?

In concise: “Oppression!”

Badly in need of love,

She made him in her mind.

Statured lumberjack,

On his head, cowboy hat.

Watched trees, all falling,

Then, dragged, floating,

As timbers till went to

Drydock for loading.

Followed logs to the mills,

Observed works, skinning,

The remained, forwarding.

The fallen, dead trees

Now, lifeless on trips

Became an izba, walls,

Some flamed in furnace!

The poet of romance

Tightly held lumberjack,

Gave kisses, if got one,

Drowned and wet of lust!

Too busy making love,

Was lacking little time,

To think of life around!

Was blind to mountains, 

And ignored life in caves, 

Also, the beach, currents. 

She and I, commonly

Are busy with writing,

In a way are colleagues!

Between us, are valleys, 

Her thoughts are about sex,

I compare guns with pens,

Their actions, reactions!