Moon died

You,

Talk, 

Talk,

Make and pile,

We won’t buy,

You can shove,

Does it hurt?

Ouch,

Ouch,

Ouch!

She looks at the ocean

I observe her motions.

We are both unaware,

Of others’ attractions!

She stares at the waves,

And I paint her gestures.

“What a world!”

I wonder…

Runs breeze in her hair,

Her blouse and skirt,

I feel lost in her cage,

Help, I am in her chain.

For her, I am like pine,

Praising, up and down.

Hey, you in the skies,

Why do I go around,

Like a rollercoaster,

Like a lost astronaut?

I wish I were the tides,

During days and nights,

I remained in her eyes,

Feeling her in my arms.

Once a child,

In a farm,

Sat on earth,

His index,

On the ground,

Pushed inside,

Delicate,

In research,

“What can be?”

He questioned,

Deep inside,

Pushed deeper.

Force-stopped,

His knuckles,

They were his,

His brake,

Barrier,

He, himself!

He was called,

Was he picked?

Under roof,

Was pampered,

But his thoughts,

Left outside…

Why?

What?

Where?

He thought:

“How?”

Childhood died,

He grew,

Youths ended

Became arch!

Cry of ambulance,

“Who and where?”

He murmured,

In wonder.

Old questions,

Scrambled:

Why?

How?

What?

Looked to right,

Looked to left,

At his toes,

Then above,

“There must be,

Somebody,

Man? Woman?

A child or children?”

Thought of wars,

Genocides,

In thousands,

More thousands,

Homelessness,

Removals,

By bullies,

Murderers,

He collapsed,

In his thought!

Took satchel,

Took hammer,

Wore his boots,

Wore apron:

A copy of Mazdak,

Fereidoon with Kaveh

They attacked palaces! 

I was there when man walked,

I was there when Moon died.

Then, I was a cadet,

In Texas, USA…

They cancelled classes,

Then took us like a herd.

They sat us like mullahs,

Large TV in the front.

We knew, here, there,

Of Laika in space,

Then, Yuri Gagarin,

Soviet’s Astronaut.

We were to see him walk,

On the Moon, at said time.

Lovers’ Moon in deathbed, 

Was gifted to the science.

No more, full, crescent,

At the beach in jungles.

Yes, the Moon we had seen,

Was murdered and erased.

From then, we see race,

Like in gyms, stadiums.

With tears read poems,

Antiquities of lovers,

Hand in hand by trees,

Speaking in a whisper:

“I swear on the Moon,

To love you forever.”

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!

Working on the Abbott,

Vancouver,

At downtown,

Near Cambie-Pender!

Plenty are homeless,

And pushers,

And addicts,

Abusers and police! 

Of alley, she came out,

With jacket falling off,

Wet, her hair from rain,

And her eye…

The right eye was black,

Pink-maroon, kind of red,

Showcasing recent fights,

Yesterday or last night…

Old makeup was washed out,

Out an arm and shoulder,

Did not care to fear,

Her walk was like a giraffe’s!

A homeless?

A silo of pride, lioness:

“No, no, no, will not bow,”

Did she say, chose to fight?

She works with concrete,

Her heart is of steel.

I am a gardener,

Live among flowers.

Guess she is a killer,

Of many, and nature.

She and I together?

No, never, not ever!

She, this ass kisser,

Has no love, nor friend!

Today, I weighed myself,

I am cheap, am worthless,

No more than piece of shit.

In Hi-Viz, I am a banana,

With hard shoes,

And hard hat,

A paddle in my hand.

My job is:

“Go, stop, 

To left, right,”

That is all…

No more an officer,

Don't fly airplane,

If tell them: “A writer, 

Researcher..."

For many am a joker.

At my age, seventy-eight

Mostly are in their graves,

Or are sick and in need,

Or live in some shelter.

Feel happy and proud,

On my feet I do walk,

Pay my tax and stand,

To bullies for my rights.

Let the fool laugh at me:

“Look at this flagger!”

I know me and walk tall,

Confident, I can run,

At times sad, I decide,

To resign and stop,

Logic says I shall not.

I am not pessimist,

How could I ever be?

I have been, am active,

Traveled, and have seen,

Places and people,

The cities, countries…

Everywhere, in each land,

By the seas, and island,

To mountains, to the sands,

Saw nothing but kindness,

Though there are,

Will always,

Some thorns by flowers.

Problem, as I see,

Had been the gardeners,

They claim and govern:

“Keep this, kill another!”

British and allies,

Destroyed Ottomans,

And with it planted,

What today we harvest,

Divisions’ disaster,

Water with blood, hate!

The dimmest of the dumbs,

Kept drawing some lines:

“Let them live in cages,

Each with a government,

With flags and anthems,

Fight against each other,

As allies, foes, friends,

And we rule over them,

Selling them armaments,

Made from their nature!”

What I saw was sweet,

Was perfect,

Like seeing fish swim.

I dreamt

His hand was in her hair,

And her lips,

Her lips on his skin…

Yes,

Gibran and Mary…

Was it love?

Intimate?

Or respect?

Do not know,

Cannot say,

I am no prophet!

I am old and happy,
The long road is ending,
Will start my trip…
 

No answer,
To where, why,
No reply to the how!
 

I feel sad deep inside,
About what is to come,
For the poor who arrive!
 

Had a chat with the goat,
She spoke of her life:
“I am not like mankind.”
 

Thanks to her, I spoke,
With the earth and sky,
With a river, snow-ice.
 

“Live in peace, harmony.”
Each one said, went to live,
Then returned, explained:
“Unlike you, you, mankind.”
 

Looked at me in a mirror
Saw myself with horror:
“What am I, a mankind?”
 

Yes, we have destroyed,
The seabed to space,
In the name of science!
 

Now, we eat plastic,
In the meat, water, fish,
Around us, most are sick,
From what does mankind,
See the depth; life stinks!

There will be a time when,

Elderly, children,

At schools and churches,

gather to explain:

“They were shame,

Shame, shame, shame!”

They reveal what went on,

In, around, us, our time:

"Bombarded every night

Houses and hospitals,

Bloodsheds, genocides,

Palestine’s Palestine!”

Shakespeare wrote great:

“To be? Or not to be?

Now, looking at Hudson,

Hudson Bay,

Comes to me a question:

“What was that?”

“Who shall say?”

The Natives?

Settlers?

Settlers won the wars,

Bloodshed and murder, 

Like beasts and savages!

They left their footprints,

In reserves, schooling,

Most of all, in cheating…

And Bay was a column,

Firm stud,

Held a roof on hollows!

I recall Bill McLean,

And female hostages,

And the lies spread,

on Big Bear, Wandering,

By the Herald and others!

Wise knew about now,

Footprints in this dust,

Had to go; now is gone!

What is left?

Buffalo?

Or beaver?

Of course, not Hudson Bay!

Of course, not Hudson Bay!

Of course, not Hudson Bay!

Studied in college,

Technical, in Tehran,

Years ago, very young.

The course of computer,

To be good, had to learn,

The logic "Not right? Left."

Logic of binaries in science,

They spoke of nature,

Creation, seas, and earth.

We praised scientists,

Also, carbon fourteen,

The age of everything.

Charles Darwin…

And the ships…

Guns’ powder…

Taught us of animals,

Volcanos and skies,

Bed of seas to clouds.

More learning got me lost:

“What about the stars?”

“A Big Bang,” was replied!

From then confused,

I stare at each part,

Of being like a child.

Every leaf of trees,

To running, stopping,

To eating, sleeping…

Study toes to chest,

By seeing a woman,

Picture sperms, ovals,

Growth of the breasts,

Full of milk to give birth,

“How it came?” I question,

Confused, I remain in a maze!

People come,

People go,

Many fade,

Die in vain,

Become dust,

In the air,

Or ashes,

Of fires…

Some remain!

Trump is one of them,

An angel? A devil?

Mr. Donald J. Trump,

Though I hold little belief that you are worthy of conversation—nor do I find those like you, who mistake themselves for giants when they are merely painted shadows—I send you this poem from the great Rumi, a poet and philosopher whose wisdom has guided those who care to listen. Not those like you, who are deceived by wealth and intoxicated by power, but those who seek truth beyond the illusion of grandeur.

I do not expect you to understand, but perhaps, by chance, someone near you will whisper its meaning in your ear. And though my heart is weighed with doubt, I leave open the slimmest hope that you, and those like you, might take a lesson from it.

A jackal once fell into a vat of dye,
Lingering there, he let time slip by.
Emerging at last, his fur now bright,
He boasted, "Behold! A peacock in flight!"

His coat now shimmered—red, green, and gold,
A dazzling sight for all to behold.
The sun itself lent its radiant hue,
And in his pride, his arrogance grew.

Strutting forth, he called to his kind,
"Look at me, how rare! How refined!"
The other jackals, puzzled, inquired,
"What has filled your head with such pride inspired?"

"Why stand apart? Why scorn our way?
Where did you learn this grand display?"
One among them stepped ahead and asked,
"Have you gone mad, or is this a mask?"

"Did you dream of climbing high,
To make men stare and heave a sigh?"
"But strive as you might, warmth you found not—
And in your folly, shame you forgot."

"True warmth belongs to prophets and saints,
While shameless pride is the refuge of fakes."
"They lure the world with colors so bright,
Yet inside, their souls hold no light."

Years ago, Petula,

Sang a song for downtown.

Then, I was very young,

Possibly in the late teens.

Today, I went to see,

Vancouver's Old City,

Hamilton and Hasting,

And Pender, and Cambie.

Plenty were building,

Old, bricks, attractive,

Restaurants, coffee shops,

Saw women in high heels.

Juxtaposed her lyrics

With the homeless in scene,

As well as the addicts.

Those in suits, in high heels,

Too many, some rushing, 

Most weary and addicts,

Huddled under the tarps.

Headed east to escape,

I thought of fentanyl:

“The makers, the reasons?

Who brings, from where?”

A cascade of questions:

“And who are consumers?

What can be the reason?

Why do they consume it?

What cure? Medicine?”

The answers were bitter:

“First start was science,

Then greed, selfishness,

Addicts are from the,

Social life's ill, sickness!”

Zelensky was trapped,

By Trump, JD Vance,

Not because…

Not at all…

Trump is not smart,

Is selfish, a show off!

He thought it was all done,

Therefore, called Media:

“Let them see what is done.”

His brain, too small,

Like walnut, hazelnut:

“Oligarchs, my friends,

We did gain an access,

To the mines of Ukraine.”

Overjoyed and happy,

He wanted world to see:

“We agreed to a peace 

Trump’s job is finished.”

But the wise small guy,

Asked question:

“How? When? Why?”

JD Vance, the dumb ass,

Came in with snow job,

Made a mess and opened,

The window to the facts,

That they hide from us.

Hey, Trump and allies,

Enemies and Verags,

Combatants, generals,

Governments, diplomats,

Thank you for your lies,

Posturing the showoffs…

You do these to fool us!

Patriarchs, dictators,

The ones in white collar,

Selfishly tell others:

“I order; you obey.”

Cannot see the braves,

They forget the rebels, 

Those who may sparkle,

Burn primes to the end.

We saw two ex-actors,

Encountered in Oval,

Host, selfish, egoist, 

Had a guest, a humble.

The one who knows it all,

And insults everyone,

Was erased and cleaned,

As are the toilets…

‘No,’ to him, had never,

Come around, appeared,

Till he met this leader,

Unlike his personnel,

A bunch of bootlickers.

Hey Great Little man,

Confidently stand,

Your ground to defend,

The land of your people,

With their ancient culture.

Yes, Khakhol you maybe,

As brainless may say,

But not for wise, wisdom.

Let’s say no to bullies,

To bullies, betrayers,

Who crave any name,

They enjoy the ‘Yes sir,’

From pieces of shit!

I want to paint myself,

Find me in the mirror,

Who am I, of what race?

What culture and gender?

I looked at the numbers,

Genocides and murders!

Who erases nations?

I blame the Bible!

At first, Jews were victims,

When kicked out of Europe,

They received the bombers:

“Destroy Palestine…”

Took a course in genres,

Novels and novellas,

Icons of literature,

Fiction to fictionalized.

To face me face to face,

Need paint for a portrait,

Also, some large frames,

To juxtapose fact-fiction.

Let us raise the easel,

Need paint and brushes,

Who can fix the canvas? 

I want to paint myself,

Within me, my borders,

Want to see face to face,

Just to ask the questions:

“Who am I, of what race?

My gender, what culture?

Who sets laws and order?

What sin was committed?

Under which conviction?

Must I kill, be murdered?

Roads are wet,

The sky is covered,

Sky’s king wears a veil.

No cars, no vehicles,

Just a few, too random.

But homeless,

Almost soaked,

With worn shoes,

Patched garments!

With a wrinkled forehead,

Surprised, I question:

“Are we in Eritrea? 

Gaza, or South Sudan?

Afghanistan? Canada?”  

What a night was last night,

On the road, there I was,

Working with a colleague, 

We waited and waited,

Till the concert ended… 

Out they came,

Picture them!

Mostly young,

Some mid-age,

More drunks,

Less sober…

Great was the movie,

Of midnight’s streets

Like silver screens...

She, from Saturna,

Was drunk, but semi,

Simple, nice, her smile, 

Inviting and wanting,

Like Sirens, Atlantic’s, 

Exciting, deceiving…

I had to, like riders,

Gallop but pull the rein,

Of my lips going wild!!!

Exchanged hugs,

In her arms,

Her whispers,

And her eyes,

Kissing air,

Pleaded, invited. 

It was work,

On the road,

I could not…

Now, want her!

I have been to deserts,

With the dunes, I played,

Made a cup of my palms,

Opened thumb for the slot,

Allowed them to pour down.

“This is day, this is night,

This is time, this is life!”

And they went with a tilt,

In my hands, left nothing.

Saw the rich become poor, 

As the poor became rich.

Hey, wealthy millionaires,

Millionaires, billionaires,

Soon you go to the grave!

Leave greed, live, let live,

Before time is over…

Donald knows the secret,

The secret to their wealth,

Grandfather’s brothels…

In this way, money came, 

Selling the poor women,

To the mine-laborers…

They never saw, nor cared,

For people who suffered,

Their prey was dollar…

This is how he was raised,

Nothing else, nothing else,

Just money, selfishness…

He, the pimp president,
never reads, is illiterate,
Is blind, dumb, and deaf!

My friends and neighbors,

My sisters, brothers,

People of the U.S.—

We love you, regardless.

We try to be wise,

We listen, take advice,

We refrain from the

Anger and misjudgment,

That is caused by mislead.

We speak when certain.

I was there and working,

Came to me a lady,

Polite and good-looking,

With a question, searching.

In her car, to her right,

A dog sat by her side,

Just the two, all alone,

Unaware where to shop.

To questions, I answered,

“Yes” or “No,” as needed,

I guided her forward,

To the place, as one must.

She left and on return,

I saw a light of kindness,

Shined in her presence,

Her face—sun, flower.

A Utah’s license plate,

Words plain and true:

“We are one, human,”

Not red, white, or blue.

"Forget that yellow hair,

Ignore the lies he tells,

One man is no nation,

He must be forgotten."

What I wish from her,

(The lady that I met,)

Is easy and simple:

“Have a safe travel, 

Set fire, add flame,

To ember of kindness.”

Want to talk with Aswan,

My tongue is silent, cut,

Pope preaches: “Do not,”

Want to talk with Aswan,

From Pharaohs to Russia,

And today’s Agha Khan!

My tongue is silent, cut!

My tongue is silent, cut!

My tongue is silent, cut!

Learned of them in States,

And thanks to Malcolm X.

Want to pay back my debt,

Am ready to confess,

Of my unawareness,

From depth of my depth!

History shame on you,

You have lied, forever,

On Sinai and elsewhere,

Abraham, then Moses, 

Also, ten commandments!

Want to talk with Aswan,

My tongue is silent, cut,

Want to talk with Aswan,

Gilgamesh, Hannibal…

Feel tired of mullahs,

Hate talking of Trump,

Riding horse of Sabbah,

Come to me Agha Khan.

Streams under eyes,

My tongue is silent, cut,

Want to talk with Aswan,

An ember burns in heart,

My tongue is silent, cut,

Want to talk with Aswan. 

Regardless of who, what,

Regardless of why not,

Regardless of gender,

Regardless of culture,

Regardless of science,

And beliefs, religions,

I believe entire,

Progress is nothing!

We, beyond all borders,

The oldest to youngest,

Are blind, unaware…

Know nothing!

Know nothing!

Know nothing!

None of the scientists, 

PENTAGON, politics,

To White-House, 

To Delhi, and Beijing, 

Is aware of the things,

In details, and findings!

I sat, stared at leaves,

Caterpillars crawling,

Cracking, flying…

I adore the females,

Pregnant looks great 

With a life inside her,

Praise how it is made.

Science is unaware,

Yes, it has good lenses,

To observe, explain…

But never can answer,

Simplest of questions:

“How and where started,

This logic and wisdom?”

I can say the poets,

Are copies, duplicates,  

Of the life, as ether.

We fly like the birds, 

With our wings,

With feathers,

Also, like the ether!

Most of us are in dark,

Hidden deep in shadows.

We care, shout,

Who hears?

And who cares?

On and off, whenever,

I have time,

If ever,

I sit calm and observe,

Photos of some poor girls!

In porn, they,

Bare, Naked,

In front of a lens,

Show from toe to head.

I start with faces,

Eyebrows, chins, foreheads,

Then crawl below necks,

Look at chests and breasts!

Then lower and lower,

Exposed are vaginas,

Butts, anus,

In shadows go faces!

At first, I see heaven,

Then, sex and desire,

Mesmerized I question:

“Which? How? When?”

I met Mike and his girl,

Almost, of the same age,

We ignored our parents,

Destroyed old cultures.

We killed God and Jesus,

Overheard and escaped!

She spoke with swears,

At all faiths, religions,

He said ‘yes,’ I listened!

“We, the baby boomers,

Are cancer tumors…”

I said and went silent!

Looked at them and their gaze,

“We were good…” I told them.

In each look a question,

Felt obliged to answer:

“We rebelled and broke, 

Diminished old cultures,

But with no replacement!”

With recent elections,

I watch the presidents,

One departs, one arrives,

These become the plane,

On which I fly high, travel.

The airport I land in,

Is the nineteen-thirties.

The Great Depression!

Germany, to Moscow,

World around, USA!

Hitler is elected,

We know, then,

What happened?

Right away?

Of course, Nay!

Deep in recent changes,

I picture those old days!

I foresee very same,

If not now, soon, later!

Bite your lips,

Be patient!

In Sechelt, on a roadside,

He sleeps in a white car,

License plate Florida’s,

Bears a flag, America’s.

The stars, stripes,

Are Blue, Red, and white,

Floating on the blood,

Of the slave, occupied,

Targeted by the bombs,

Gaza to Guatemala,

Manilla, Vietnam, 

To Guam, to Iraq,

All over, day and night!

The columns of culture,

Making their governance,

Exposed by the presidents,

Are greed, money, wealth,

And no more, nothing else!

The daughter planned well,

Called the police, complained,

Repeated an old trick:

“Our mom is dangerous,

For others and herself…”

Mother is behind the bars,

Is observed, is confined,

Supervised in a madhouse!

Authorized by the law,

Legally does as wants:  

“You can go to the hell!”

She said to the brother!

America’s inheritance,

‘Corporate…corporate!’

‘Private…Private…’

‘No to the powerless!’

 Had asked Dan:

“Go feed them.”

I gave him the address

Of the seeds and feeders,

When assured, went away.

Today, they,

Hopping on branches,

Sang along together,

I heard them:

“Safe retune our friend.”

As a child, after birth,

Can never, go, return,

Back into the parents,

Plastic and AI,

Are here to stay,

Never will go away!

Had it been a year now,

From when met last time?

Exactly like horse, cow

In the plume, California’s…

She had learned her lesson,

In hardship and tough time.

Her poem was simple,

Too open, straight:

“Open eyes to danger,

Of the suppressed ember,

It will burn without care!”

Tina, I, hugged, goodbye,

She was not the same one.

Books are good for fire,

If Torah or Bible…

Burn Koran, Vendidad,

All such books, any kind…

You proved,

All are lies.

All are lies,

All are lies!

You, racist,

Advertise,

Racism,

Racism,

Racism!

Risked my life,

To save you,

I was wrong!

Like Cyrus,

I was wrong,

I was wrong!

You proved,

Who you are!

You deserved,

Assyrians, Babylon!

You deserved,

You deserved,

Life in a stable!

Look at you, swimming,

Floating on the blood?

You must be displaced,

Must be sent,

To dingiest, once again!

For days, weeks,

Maybe months…

I searched, searched,

Could not find…

He thinks is a friend,

Called and soon came over…

I, selfish,

Showed him my museum…

There she was, my lost one,

An old book, silent, rich…

Inside her burning torch,

She led me to the cave…

I yearned to tell her that her presence in my life was more than love—it was meaning itself, the anchor that held me steady amidst storms, the light that guided me through the darkest nights. Without her, even the simplest joys—a flower plucked from the earth, the fragrance of jasmine on the breeze—would lose their sweetness, turning to thorns in my grasp.

But with her, everything transformed. Even a world bristling with thorns would bloom into a garden of roses and jasmine, vibrant and full of life. She was my alchemy, my miracle, turning my struggles into beauty and my burdens into blessings.

بی‌تو اگر گل شکنم خار شود در کف من
ور همه خارم ز تو من جمله گل و یاسمنم

Without you, if I pluck a rose, it turns to thorns in my hand.
But with you, even if all I have are thorns, they bloom into roses and jasmine.

I imagined telling her these words, weaving them into the fabric of our moments together. I wanted her to know that she wasn’t just my wife but my light in the darkness. Each line of poetry, each delicate metaphor, spoke for me—words I might never articulate aloud but carried in my heart for her.

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.”

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…