Ammameh

Standing by the cooker

Silently I observe,

The clock, its minutes,

Potatoes in the pot 

Boil, bubbles…

Then I think of Parvin,

The poet of the kitchen,

The onion and garlic,

And the chickpea, lentil.

Though standing still,

My brain and my heart

Travel all around,

Go very deep in time!

I stand and observe,

Think of the things,

Remember…

Adoption of orphans,

(They were not,)

Papers were telling lies,

To part the mother-child?

The Korean criminals,

United with US, Canada,

The British House Child,

Residential schools,

Latinos, the Philippines,

Afghans in the USSR,

What a crime! Genocide?

And I think of people,

What about my pulled teeth?

Good friends have offered:

“For you, soup of turkey!”

The world looks like oceans,

Like plains and mountains,

Like rivers and deserts…

Good and bad everywhere!

He sent me a message,

Not a page, but pages.

About wars, displaced,

The exiles, immigrants.

Iran was among them,

Arrivals, departures.

The message was in time,

Since I had, encountered,

Syrians, Palestine’s,

Lebanese and Afghans.

One may say they are well,

I do not see the same…

I have had my backpack,

Have followed the tracks,

Exactly as they have,

We crossed the borders…

Yes, to me the borders,

Make us bees and horses,

In the hives, stables…

Keep me out, don’t talk of,

Governments and anthems,

Synagogues and churches,

Even mosques…whatever 

Cuts, divides to pieces, 

As the bad, good, better!

His message, in a way,

Said a lot and covered,

The abuse of landed,

In new homes, shelters,

Exposing just goodness,

Or feeding by kindness, 

But being brainwashed,

By the secret agents!

Nagorno Karabakh,

To me, it's as if I

See myself, my parents,

And ancient ancestors,

Wounded in the mountains,

With nothing, all shattered! 

They've left behind everything,

Spending nights and days,

Sowing, growing, harvesting,

They gathered in baskets.

Their possession is a shirt,

On their backs like drapes. 

Histories behind them,

Stories behind them,

As well as culture, faith,

The beloved graves,

Also, the wounded, dead,

Lying there in pain, wake.

Nagorno Karabakh,

Ukraine, and Venezuela,

I don't just sympathize,

I am you, I empathize,

With Iraq and Iran,

Khalistan, Libya,

Afghanistan, Assyria,

Battleford, Saskatchewan,

Chaco and Bolivia,

Cholo and Cholita,

Metis in Manitoba!

I don't just sympathize,

I am you, I empathize,

I am you in my heart,

You, Blacks, Africans,

Filipinos, Australians,

I don't just sympathize,

I am you.

"Are you prepared…” Dan inquired, 

“To attend the march with us, 

To support veterans, our nation's pride?"

Nodded I, walked along...

In view, arrays of,

Armaments displayed,

Bazookas, guns, bullets, 

Slogans spread...

Sprawled crowds, dense, 

Big and small children, 

Paced babies, teenagers, 

Among them, displaced...

Diverse were attires,

Head-covers, pant-skirts, 

Colorful their garments,

With fathers, no mother...

Their fathers wore beards, 

Remnants of their culture,

Something I embraced,

We, trees, displaced...

No toil and adventurous, 

Joined the U.S. friends, 

Taliban won, unfurled,

Arrests and many deaths…

They fled, uncertain, 

To distance scattered, 

Left behind no tread,

But a nation in pain…

Kids' bodies are here, 

Spirits over there,  

Scratched their brains, 

What nurtures the future? 

Through the countless years now past,

As old age beckons me at last,

A foot resting within the grave's embrace.

I sit as though a child anew,

A mound of earth before my view,

Watch the ants, their path a winding trace.

Unaware, they march and climb,

Unmindful of the future's time,

Little know I, they will sting and bite.

I squat in wonder, deep in thought,

Like a mouse in a maze caught,

Their ceaseless journey, day, and night.

The ants, in their relentless quest,

Transform to men, a strange bequest,

In the grand assembly of the Earth.

I mourn, fatigued, by humankind's deeds,

For too long I've watched their creeds,

Talking peace but sowing seeds of dearth.

I've heard the talk of war's cruel date,

"Is it the Rabbit's?" they debate,

About months, seasons, day, and night.

Their origins, a mystery profound,

Some seek answers in the Bible bound,

Others turn to galaxies, shining bright.

Some in the "Big Bang" their faith,

Or "In Six Days," a different wraith,

In the struggle of belief, they fight.

Confusion reigns as I sit here,

Observing like a child, unclear

Is this a comedy or science's birth?

Which is the truth, I can't decide,

Lunar or Solar, they all confide,

Proclaiming, "God is on our side!"

"God saved Noah from the flood,"

But sent destruction like a raging mud,

Their image of God, it seems, is wild.

And once again, just like a child,

I watch the mound, so meek and mild,

Seeing ants ascend in a single file.

I close my eyes, then open wide,

Witness the truth they try to hide,

See the ants as humankind's guile.

Upon the stage, the puppets play,

But who controls this grand array?

Is the show flawless? They believe?

Yet on the wall, in shadows cast,

Atlas bears the world steadfast,

I see the director in that conceive.

In my mind's eye, I see the strife,

From Libya's woes to Noah's life,

To/From Nagorno Karabakh's strife,

From Marrakech in Morocco's land,

To bullets, drones, and sinking sand,

Ukraine, Russia, nations at knife,

Children, mothers, husbands, wives,

And the bombers ending lives,

Atoms falling, fate on Hiroshima's,

Hawaii's shores and dinghies bound,

To Greece, they seek safe ground,

In Spain, Italy, a similar weight,

The Rio Grande's treacherous tide,

Where boats capsize, fears collide,

These scenes in my thoughts resonate.

I listen to the radio's news,

"In an hour or two, will arrive soon,

The summer's end, this very year!"

I hear and laugh, the lunacy clear,

In calendars, they bicker, I fear,

But the one in Iran, I hold dear.

With the equinox, the year's first morn,

Spring's arrival, newly born,

Three months of summer's gentle cheer,

Then autumn's hues and winter's snow,

Till equinox, when the seasons flow,

A cycle timeless, year to year.

As I gaze at bees and ants so small,

And witness worms in their quiet crawl,

Hoopoes, robins digging deep and low,

Shoveling earth for worms below,

I continue watching, feeling woe,

For humankind's evils continue to grow.

I hate Ammameh, sheikh,

Not because of the race,

But for the behaviors!

Caused respect for the ones,

Whom we had rejected!

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’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’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!”

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!

At her birth was Jinet, 

A little, tiny girl.

As a sick little girl, 

Was taken to the church,

Was baptized, Juliet, 

Superstition, Superstitious! 

“Do not like new name…”

She says and complains!

“Am center of the jokes,

Without my Romeo!”

Angry, I frown,

Laugh, cry…

Ignorance, hills of sand,

Are aimless little ants, 

If not in a bucket, hand!

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.