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Once, a mink saw puppy,
So, chatted, kept talking:
“Are we same family?”
The mink looked eagerly,
Puppy said: “It could be!”
In their looks, they differed,
Both feelings were bitter!
Dog owner could hear:
“Both of us are in chains,
You with leash, I with cage!”
Mink owner pulled the tail,
Tightened leash, dog owner!
The two sang in tune:
“Neither is immune,
From man, this cruel!”
“I, chicken, lamb, cattle
Are the poorest victims,
You enjoy partially…”
Dog listened carefully!
“They kill some for flesh,
Some for hide and fashion,
Many birds for feathers!”
Heard puppy and nodded.
“Go around, defecate,”
Said the mink in laughter:
“Give the man what deserves,
Let them bow, hand-collect…”
Puppy looked for goodbye,
Looked at mink and cried:
“Your skin they clean,
Then after wash, bleach,
Then, in church, they preach!”
Listen to talking peach:
“True life-story,
Told to loo like movie!”
In morning of mountains,
Wear his shoes, a farmer,
Gets ready, picks shovel,
Says goodbye, goes away.
His wife and children
Keep busy in task, share,
Gathering their harvest.
The Sun sits on throne,
Always in the summer,
For ruling skies, Earth.
Aphrodite, brunet,
Floats her golden hair,
All around, straight.
Like blonds of Europe
The sunrays make fire,
Leave behind the ashes!
Even the local rocks
Proudly serve Royals.
They reflect hellish heat,
Representing the king:
Follow laws, and decrees!
Burn, become brownish,
All farmers’ families.
Playing hide and seek,
Fruits keep smiling,
On branch, each tree.
Pleasure, therefore, is,
The game of plucking.
Family, unites, teams,
To steal trees’ kids.
In the cold of winter,
Differ their behavior,
Parents and children
Sit around, in middle,
Single lamp is actor,
And the walls, theatre.
The shadows dance, wrestle,
The clown is hero for laughter.
The poor and old curtain,
Turns to best choreographer.
Farmer sits in center,
Exposes heels’ fissure,
Of feet’s’ soles, clustered.
Wife brings the goat-fat,
He uses pocketknife,
Cuts a piece, raises high.
With flames of oil lamp
White grease melts, drops,
Filling those cracks, down!
They are deep and hurting,
But farmers live with mean!
Nobody complains,
Of farmers’ life order,
Nobody talks, nor care!
Funny is life in town,
See tattoo on back, arms,
To breasts, necks, or thighs!
Crack lips, show my teeth:
“Juxtapose these sissies,
With the farmers’ hardship,
Painted or engraved, is skin?
Worthy and treasure
Is she, this vase of pains!
Her smile and laughter,
To people around her,
Bring joy, pleasure!
Now, fallen, abandoned,
On roadside, is injured!
Though closed are all gates,
To rainbow and her nest,
To me, she is chicken,
Of huge bald eagles!
Worked with her half a day,
Yes, she was my mentor,
Too kind and generous.
It was a miracle,
I, windbag, and talker,
Found me time to listen!
I owe thanks to ears,
For being so patient,
Quite sharp, vigilant.
You who are my target,
Remain my good friend,
Can call and chat again.
You and I must exchange,
Our wishes and knowledge.
No, do not bite finger,
And no need to wonder:
“He did pay attention!”
With such a character,
I am sure once again,
You soar to crescents.
In the Brontë’s,
In their time,
Crouch till go wild!
Lost in their sky,
Encounter deem lights,
Toe to head, deep downs!
The questions race, I sigh:
“What happened and how?”
I wait for reply!
Come to me in line,
Shirley's Frankenstein,
Church, preachers, and lie!
In eighteen-eighty-five
Warriors of frog
Stood up, took their guns,
Aiming at the two men,
From the Roman church!
At same time, wrote Nietzsche:
“Zarathustra,” so has said.
Colonialists with canons
Killed the wives and elders,
Hung, butchered defenders,
Calling them: “Savages,”
Looked at them as slaves:
“Must listen and obey!”
After years, the curtains
Are removed of churches,
Now, people see, observe,
Devils are such leaders!
Open eyes, read details,
Of cocooned politicians,
They tell lies, create,
Falsified monsters
From the socialists
As well as communists!
I would be ashamed if,
My blood was Whitish,
With tongue of English!
Colonialist, Europeans,
Called Natives, Indians,
And of this big mistake
Do not feel embarrassed!
Indigenous siblings
Keep pride, be happy,
You have the dignity,
At fault is colonialist!
John Acton
Trained me my parents,
To live with love, and care:
“Never live with corrupt,
Go against apartheid.”
Devoted mind and heart,
To oppressed and exiled!
I was wrong and confess,
He is not who I guessed!
I thought he had value,
Just because of his book.
“Is worthy,” I said, thought,
Since he, too, was exiled!
Many were the corrupt,
In shadow of the shah!
Was wrong to think mullahs,
Are clean men of God…!
Knew not at that time:
Power rots and corrupts!
Am sorry,
I was wrong!
Then, he was powerless,
One of us, hurt, disturbed.
I agree that indeed,
Acton said correctly,
Of power corrupting.
Then he was a mullah,
Paying heed, attentive,
See leader, Ayatollah,
Doubtlessly is corrupt,
And thirsty for blood!
On the days when hostage,
Felt I was forgotten.
Was on ship, trawler,
In hands of fishermen.
All alone to myself,
Was ignored piece of shit!
Found a book by bucket,
For cleaning asses…
Read through and liked it,
Was Sufi poetry.
Speaker, audience,
In me, were united,
I and me, to myself.
Found a piece of paper,
And on it registered:
“To my love…”
Handed it to the waves.
Kept dreaming, questioned:
“Will ever one read it?
What will they do with it?”
The news of today:
“A cleanup crew,
Found bottle with letter,”
Took me back to waters,
Memories, yester-days.
Remember seeing whale,
Many sharks, stingrays,
And shrimps, in masses!
Remember the tough days,
Oh, the days, bad old days
Some question:
“Burning church?”
I take time at the bay,
Using time look at depths!
Church arrived and claimed:
“You people are pagans,
Those like you end in hell,
We help you to be saved,
By changing, so, covert…”
This went on and came gun:
“We order you to change,
And if not face your death!”
It was hard to accept:
“My parents, their parents,
All were wrong, savage, dumb?”
Some wondered,
Some wandered,
Some said: “Sure,”
Accepted…
Church acted like scissors,
Cut through brothers,
And parents, children,
Most of the wives, husbands!
Peace and love departed,
Talks became quarrels,
Anger-filled, they shouted!
In April of a year,
Near the Frog Lake,
Warriors had gathered,
United, decided:
“Our kindness is tinder,
For abuse of the church,
So, erase this evil…”
Saw a duck in flight,
Said hello, to chat, talk.
Watched its neck,
Was curvy, crooked!
Seeing it hang in air,
Threw a wild question:
“Does it make you tired?”
Ignored me,
Went away!
Fresh air
Called again,
I drove far away.
On both sides,
Were mountains,
River ran all along.
Finally…
Parked on side,
Went to farm,
Behind fence,
Few lambs,
Some horses,
All grazed!
Sat and watched,
Looked at them.
In my mind
Talked with them.
Closed eyes,
And opened.
All heads down
Same went on!
They grazed…
My heart was,
Among them!
We were marked:
“It belongs…”
While waiting
I felt shocked:
“What is next?
When happens?
Old age is problem,
Every site, here, there,
Acts like one reminder!
Of college, New Hampshire:
“We did not have crime,
So, left the doors unlocked.”
We, many, were cadets,
General dictated:
“No need of salesperson,
Our cadets are honest.”
The shop’s door was open,
We selected, purchased,
Whatever was needed,
And handled the payment.
Long ago departed,
Makes me sad to hear:
“The mullahs made fire,
And buried good old day!”
Bow to wrong candidates!
Lie and cheat presidents!
When steal commanders,
Poor people are chickens!
Keep reading article,
Blood turns to tears!
Can our hearts love again?
Will the good days return?
Confused is brain!
Throw the article!
Of such life am ashamed!
Want to die, disappear!
Where the hell is grave?
Days ago, wrote poem,
Talked about Britain.
One comment was great:
“Sir, I am one of the,
British, you mentioned!”
Politely sought pardon:
“I was born long after,
Cannot see it your way,
So, oppose and reject!”
I replied in simple:
“To my colleague poet,
Tree was planted,
Its fruit we harvest,
African was Nigger,
Indigenous a savage!”
Then went on, explained:
“These insults broke them,
Shattered them, divided,
Those in need accepted,
And lived life of slave,
In pens of your parents!”
She, British poet,
Wants to say:
“It was then…”
I tell her: “No, friend!
Yes, husks were stolen,
Buried in mass graves!
She must picture painting,
With Sun, Earth evolving,
And the ships in sailing,
On blood in the seas,
At cliffs waves roaring,
Butchered are uprisings!
The comment of today
Is meanness, ignorance!
In eighteen-eighty-five
Warriors of frog
Stood up, took their guns,
Aiming at the two men,
From the Roman church!
At same time, wrote Nietzsche:
“Zarathustra,” so has said.
Colonialists with canons
Killed the wives and elders,
Hung, butchered defenders,
Calling them: “Savages,”
Looked at them as slaves:
“Must listen and obey!”
After years, the curtains
Are removed of churches,
Now, people see, observe,
Devils are such leaders!
Open eyes, read details,
Of cocooned politicians,
They tell lies, create,
Falsified monsters
From the socialists
As well as communists!
I would be ashamed if,
My blood was Whitish,
With tongue of English!
Colonialist, Europeans,
Called Natives, Indians,
And of this big mistake
Do not feel embarrassed!
Indigenous siblings
Keep pride, be happy,
You have the dignity,
At fault is colonialist!
John Acton
Trained me my parents,
To live with love, and care:
“Never live with corrupt,
Go against apartheid.”
Devoted mind and heart,
To oppressed and exiled!
I was wrong and confess,
He is not who I guessed!
I thought he had value,
Just because of his book.
“Is worthy,” I said, thought,
Since he, too, was exiled!
Many were the corrupt,
In shadow of the shah!
Was wrong to think mullahs,
Are clean men of God…!
Knew not at that time:
Power rots and corrupts!
Am sorry,
I was wrong!
Then, he was powerless,
One of us, hurt, disturbed.
I agree that indeed,
Acton said correctly,
Of power corrupting.
Then he was a mullah,
Paying heed, attentive,
See leader, Ayatollah,
Doubtlessly is corrupt,
And thirsty for blood!
On the days when hostage,
Felt I was forgotten.
Was on ship, trawler,
In hands of fishermen.
All alone to myself,
Was ignored piece of shit!
Found a book by bucket,
For cleaning asses…
Read through and liked it,
Was Sufi poetry.
Speaker, audience,
In me, were united,
I and me, to myself.
Found a piece of paper,
And on it registered:
“To my love…”
Handed it to the waves.
Kept dreaming, questioned:
“Will ever one read it?
What will they do with it?”
The news of today:
“A cleanup crew,
Found bottle with letter,”
Took me back to waters,
Memories, yester-days.
Remember seeing whale,
Many sharks, stingrays,
And shrimps, in masses!
Remember the tough days,
Oh, the days, bad old days
Some question:
“Burning church?”
I take time at the bay,
Using time look at depths!
Church arrived and claimed:
“You people are pagans,
Those like you end in hell,
We help you to be saved,
By changing, so, covert…”
This went on and came gun:
“We order you to change,
And if not face your death!”
It was hard to accept:
“My parents, their parents,
All were wrong, savage, dumb?”
Some wondered,
Some wandered,
Some said: “Sure,”
Accepted…
Church acted like scissors,
Cut through brothers,
And parents, children,
Most of the wives, husbands!
Peace and love departed,
Talks became quarrels,
Anger-filled, they shouted!
In April of a year,
Near the Frog Lake,
Warriors had gathered,
United, decided:
“Our kindness is tinder,
For abuse of the church,
So, erase this evil…”
Saw a duck in flight,
Said hello, to chat, talk.
Watched its neck,
Was curvy, crooked!
Seeing it hang in air,
Threw a wild question:
“Does it make you tired?”
Ignored me,
Went away!
Fresh air
Called again,
I drove far away.
On both sides,
Were mountains,
River ran all along.
Finally…
Parked on side,
Went to farm,
Behind fence,
Few lambs,
Some horses,
All grazed!
Sat and watched,
Looked at them.
In my mind
Talked with them.
Closed eyes,
And opened.
All heads down
Same went on!
They grazed…
My heart was,
Among them!
We were marked:
“It belongs…”
While waiting
I felt shocked:
“What is next?
When happens?
Old age is problem,
Every site, here, there,
Acts like one reminder!
Of college, New Hampshire:
“We did not have crime,
So, left the doors unlocked.”
We, many, were cadets,
General dictated:
“No need of salesperson,
Our cadets are honest.”
The shop’s door was open,
We selected, purchased,
Whatever was needed,
And handled the payment.
Long ago departed,
Makes me sad to hear:
“The mullahs made fire,
And buried good old day!”
Bow to wrong candidates!
Lie and cheat presidents!
When steal commanders,
Poor people are chickens!
Keep reading article,
Blood turns to tears!
Can our hearts love again?
Will the good days return?
Confused is brain!
Throw the article!
Of such life am ashamed!
Want to die, disappear!
Where the hell is grave?
Days ago, wrote poem,
Talked about Britain.
One comment was great:
“Sir, I am one of the,
British, you mentioned!”
Politely sought pardon:
“I was born long after,
Cannot see it your way,
So, oppose and reject!”
I replied in simple:
“To my colleague poet,
Tree was planted,
Its fruit we harvest,
African was Nigger,
Indigenous a savage!”
Then went on, explained:
“These insults broke them,
Shattered them, divided,
Those in need accepted,
And lived life of slave,
In pens of your parents!”
She, British poet,
Wants to say:
“It was then…”
I tell her: “No, friend!
Yes, husks were stolen,
Buried in mass graves!
She must picture painting,
With Sun, Earth evolving,
And the ships in sailing,
On blood in the seas,
At cliffs waves roaring,
Butchered are uprisings!
The comment of today
Is meanness, ignorance!
We have had shackles, lynch,
And your chains, also whip!
We can feel your dagger,
Deep in bones and flesh,
Want to kick this bucket!
Has ended our silence,
Call us wild, savages,
Any name, whatever!
Yes, enough is enough,
Being nice made kebab!
Caravans of mules,
Carried load, no fuel!
Can you see Cuba,
To Andes, Venezuela,
Middle East, Palestine,
And Natives to Afghans?
By working in the farms,
We watered with blood,
And you sat in a palace,
Waiting for piece of pie!
Who the hell? You? Royal?
With insults sharp as knife?
Having been victimized,
Feel victims in our hearts!
Kicking bucket, going wild,
Winners are the bad cows!
Want to be wolf and fox,
Came season for manhunt!
We warn you for last time:
“Yes, enough is enough!”
They speak serious,
And I am too tired!
Made my mind,
I will change!
Must start counting hair,
Eyebrows, noses, ears,
Bald or long, also heads,
To armpits and bare chest,
And areola, both nipples!
They speak serious,
And I am too tired!
Like monkey, I sit there,
Keep searching for lover,
Want to joke with others.
They speak serious,
I seek fun, am tired!
Soon, I will change trend,
Amuse me, counting hair,
Inside the underwear.
I want to reject God:
“Such being, never was!”
Look around, left and right,
Look at things, how they are,
The trees, seas, and heights,
I feel shocked with Aha,
Bite my lips and jail tongue!
“Lucky you, I cannot!”
I tell them, jaw dropped.
I look at eyelashes,
At skin, and the gut,
To hands, and genitals,
See them like flowers,
Rapidly fade in, out.
Compare them to NASA,
To the things man has done!
Laugh loud like crazy,
Whenever hear the:
“Their work is miracle!”
“For how long have we lived?
Who made world as it is?”
In my head race questions.
Then I look at pictures,
Spent time to take them,
They are parts of nature.
Raising voice, loud, I say:
“These are the miracles!”
Hear of Charles Darwin,
And Freud, scientists:
“Time changed them slowly,
From birth of Big Bang…”
I smile, am deaf, dumb,
Seal and lock all my thoughts:
“This is what I call God!
My mother, old fashioned
Was proud to give birth.
Large brood, she bred,
With joy and pleasure,
As duty, and faith.
She was too religious,
With pride, always said:
“Advised us prophet,
Islam must spread,
A mother makes soldiers.”
Even though was woman,
Never were equal,
A son with a daughter.
Guess never knew of,
Parts of her genital.
Her joy was children,
Not bed or having sex.
For her aim and purpose
Gave herself to husband.
Can see her, even now,
Has smile in her eyes,
Are bright, open wide:
“I gave birth to dozen.”
From the sons remained,
To age of marriage,
Have wives and children,
We were five…
First, married a cousin,
And youngest married with,
One distance relative,
In sort of matchmaking,
Not the rest…
Second was sick, in bed,
Hospitalized with others,
Saw among visitors,
Of the ward, in next bed,
A girl that was gorgeous.
When meeting was over,
Chatted the two patients,
They exchanged addresses,
She became my in-law,
Total stranger…
And the third, a worker,
In plant, assembled,
The car that Iran made…
Befriended colleagues,
One became our neighbor,
Small room he rented…
Friendship bounded them,
Tenant's guests came and went,
Then, his niece, our sister!
My ex was sister of
My school classmate.
My parents made UN,
And collected nations,
Through the marriages.
Like in hand, five fingers,
These new five sisters
Broke the barriers,
Demolished all borders,
Became one, united,
In sorrow and dances.
My simple, kind mother
Sleep tight with bless,
You did bear the soldiers,
Your army conquered…
I hear loud drums,
See them dancing around.
Feel the wind, hurricane,
Feel trees, fallen, dead.
Feel bodies discovered,
Feel the shouts and anger,
Feel them all, am afraid,
And sort of embarrassed!
Today I took a knife,
Cut my heart into parts.
Dislike this huge nest,
It shelters love and hate,
Must divide, dismantle!
Must accept good, or bad,
It combines this and that!
I finished writing cake,
Felt great, sweetness,
In mouth with bitterness!
Feel dying with venom,
Of snakes and pythons,
Scorpions and serpents!
I recall when she came,
Almost mid-September!
Had Russian pinkish face,
Worked for us, waitress,
On her cheeks ran rivers,
With tears that she shed!
She meant to comfort me,
Aware of depths of it,
My answer was simple:
“Planted, now harvest!
Full of joy, in wonder
Badly I, needed help.
For start sent some texts,
Penny is cake maker,
Sought her help.
Not knowing my reason,
Worriedly, she answered,
Felt her voice, infectious.
“No worries my friend,”
I hurried and calmed her:
“For a cake, I need help.”
With the helm in my hand,
I went on, explained:
“I drove to Delta,
Stopped at some garden,
Pictures, my intention,
Came woman, I feared,
That she might object it,
Garden was private…”
I stopped and could paint,
Shocked Penny with her hair,
Standing on its tail…
“She took me for a tour,
I spoke with husband,
She showed me flowers,
And I was like camel,
Thirsty and in desert,
Felt seeing cold water,
Kept taking more pictures.”
Penny’s chest was like jail,
To her words and breath.
“Want to buy them a cake,”
I said and sought the help.
On his way to go out
He stopped for a talk.
The core of his work is:
“Finding, fighting racists,
Using words, preaching!”
Looked at wall in front,
And smiled and told him:
“The surface for painting?”
He stared wondering,
I went on speaking:
“Lifestyle needs changing,
Our hearts, minds and thinking,
Since they are depths of seas!”
I showed him a message,
On WhatsApp, had received,
There, people were dancing.
Voice over, I told him:
“Men, women of Iran,
Are in line to depart…”
Then after, explained:
“To receive injection,
Sputnik of Russians
Not at home but outside,
In the lands of neighbors!”
I could see in his eyes:
“Here, you, are begging,
Every old, young, and kid
To go in, get vaccine!
Had a call from the,
Overseas, long distance:
“Am alive, thanks heavens.”
He had asked my address,
Was worried about them.
While thinking, came question:
“Have escaped? Are on way?”
The news, media
Have added flavor,
To the burning stake!
Said to me, my friend:
“Our den forbids jackals,
From the Soviets, USA,
To harm us, cause damage,
Then keep tails between legs!”
For about an hour,
We spoke and chatted,
Of Russia, Britain,
Growth of USA,
And egos, invasions,
And walking on others,
When alive, sick, or dead…
Liked part of his comment:
“Our land is in mountains,
Behind the heights, gorges,
People are different…”
His message was simple:
“Britain burned our nests,
And pushed us in a cage,
We are wolves, and lions,
And pigeons and vultures,
All the talks are dead-end,
Pave no road, passages,
How can we be a nation?”
Prepared my poem,
Meant to write about the:
“Infinite flowers,
In endless farm, garden,
Butterflies everywhere,
Flapping little wings,
Constantly flying,
Like winter snowflakes,
Soft, cute and tender!”
But the books, articles
Online and in papers,
Stole my attention:
“Canada’s veterans!”
Saw many dots, puzzles,
Drew lines, connected,
Landed in USA…
Then flew my plane,
To Bagram…
There, observed,
Genocide and corpses!
Chatted with the soldiers,
NCOs and Majors:
“Came here on mission!”
Nobody had reason,
Not even the leaders!
Felt that words had fled,
From mouth to ear…
Saw blood, children’s,
Elderly’s and women’s,
In rivers, and mountains,
Thanks to the veterans!
Sounded wild and weird,
With the whiskey, beer
Bag in hand, once again,
See myself walking there.
In bazaar, Kandahar
Plenty are poor shops,
Among them many guns.
Look at the rich stocks,
The new, old, short, long,
Pistols and machineguns,
Also, sell hatchets, knives!
Shocked, I am surprised,
Feel jitter in eyeballs:
“Being so in our time?”
A Pashtu, Hazara,
And driver, myself,
Hurry up with dread!
But today, after years,
Feel as if have returned,
Same sellers, teenagers!
Dear friends at the beach,
Those who talk and preach,
Speaking soft, sweet,
Close eyes, framing,
Warmonger in painting,
With bullets, thundering!
Is time to null, stop,
The evil companies!
Withdraw your savings!
Please halt supporting!
Being part and working
With the ones like Boeing,
Winchester and Lockheed,
Means killing, murdering!
Talk is of surrender,
Withdrawal, return.
I think of injured, death.
I think of jailed women.
I was there and saw them,
I stood and watched the
Wasps, flies, cockroaches
On cut hand, being fed!
Nobody seems to care,
Strangers, neighbors,
Nor Europe, USA!
Kabul, her government,
Are the balls in a game!
I was there!
I was there!
I was there!
I was in restaurant,
Woman came with her son,
Kicked her out Taliban!
Saw boys were treated,
Like the birds in cages,
Like few lambs, chickens,
Delivered to shepherd:
“Take them out to graze!”
And saw them when returned,
The barber shaved their heads!
Left alone and cornered,
Shah Masood gave order:
“Detonate roads, tunnels,
And all the bridges!”
Only way to be safe
Listening, I watched them,
Carefully, read of them,
Came to conclusion:
“Better learn from the
Swedish behavior,
Try hard for success,
Avoid wasting nights, days!”
Some claim that science,
Is like torch and candle,
Like Sunlight and Moonlight,
Doubtlessly are not right!
Either they, mean to lie,
Or know not and are lost,
Anyway they are wrong!
Look at the fish, seabirds,
And the sharks and the whales.
Look at them floating,
On the waves, dead, injured.
Look at the temperatures,
And Lytton on fire.
Look at the Pandemic,
And the manmade virus.
Look at the Ozon and,
Its being on our land!
These are, all, of science,
Despite its advancements.
Even if man landed,
On the Moon and headed,
Far beyond the stars…
Even if we drive,
And cross the oceans,
To fly, have planes,
Mankind made disaster!
By no means science is,
Like Moonlight or Sunlight!
Science is disaster!
Have easel and canvas,
Words are paint, brushes.
On something am working,
To last as masterpiece.
Both rider and his horse
Are painted for the war.
His name is Spirit:
“Agent, come and join!”
The man of pen rejects,
Was racist? Or afraid?
The hero cares, repeats:
“Brother, come please.”
Related is agent,
To Cree, Frog Lake’s.
Is trained specialist:
“Who are you but nothing?”
The rider pulls his gun,
Aims at him, shoots Thomas.
The hero with friends
Set the church on fire:
“This place is rotten!”
Settlers’ articles:
“The brainless savage
Needs to learn his lesson!”
Then workers of churches
With help of government,
Behaved like abattoir,
Forced the kids in den-jails,
Exactly like chickens,
Bloody is canvas in a frame!
No more I shall write of
Fallen lambs on roadsides,
If turn wolves with rabies!
I heard them when herded,
Pleaded, pleaded, pleaded!
Shepherds were brutal,
Even worse, those at top!
Remember hit and run?
Remember making fun?
Remember those insults?
What about when you said:
“Will hang you by the balls!”
I recall when heard them,
Complained of hunger,
Of having no shelter.
I saw you, can picture,
As if was yesterday…
Chest forward and head up,
Selfishly you walked tall:
“Why should I care at all?”
Heard them beg, mouths dry,
Their voices weak and soft,
You played own drums…
Saw many girls around,
Among them, you had fun,
Kept drinking red wine…
With power, got drunk!
Many of poor lambs died,
Some fought and stood up,
Turned to wolf with rabies!
Lunar Month Ramadhan
Can come in summertime.
I recall one summer,
It was hot, hot as hell.
My father was Muslim,
And true believer.
To him, fast was real:
“Do not eat, instead,
Save it and give away,
To the poor, be a help.”
Copycat, I fasted!
Smart was my mother,
She tricked me and said:
“Break it, I will sew,
The two parts with needle!”
Mom was home, not father,
She gave me an address:
“Your father must be there.”
Many farms on my way,
In them wheat was golden,
And ready for harvest.
Went and went a long way,
Finally, found father,
Was alone with sickle,
Red kerchief on his face,
Squat, he gathered,
Straws and cut them!
Was kind and devoted,
To home and to others,
By being good Muslim,
Unlike most of mullahs,
Abusers and lairs!
Was in my twenties,
When I made a movie.
I look back to compare,
Vey past with today.
Crazy, was concerned,
And disliked injustice,
Misery and hunger!
Named my film:
“Crumble!”
Or “A bite.”
Travel of grain,
To be food on table
After market, kitchen,
Then ending in garbage!
This body saw changes,
But the heart has remained,
Pure, child’s, as was then…
Sun is out,
And is hot.
All around
Are skins.
Mainly of
The ladies!
Mostly are,
Too sexy!
Do they know?
Purposely?
In my palm is my head
I stand motionless…
Look at us in the mirror,
See questions making wave.
A nightmare, delusion!
Ask of our duties:
“Children and parents?
And between partners?
Citizen and neighbors?”
Mass of waves modulate,
Lowest to crescent,
And I watch the phases,
Then HF to AM and FM!
See myself and my head,
Confused, slandered,
Where are we? In desert?
Xay Teluk stands there,
His hands are extended,
Welcoming every guest.
Hamilton’s black bag
Has writings in the red:
“The end of McDonald!”
Gidlow writes her poem,
She names it: “I, Lover:”
“Am afraid? No, never!”
To some is too shameless,
I call it: “Changing wave!”
Look at Malcolm, lover,
And Mary turned Shelly,
Then Zuleikha-Joseph,
Ferdowsi’s Siavash…
Go online and Google,
USA, Britain, turned UK.
No stop; search further,
Soviet Union,
And China of today.
I warn you, be aware,
May lose your religion!
Thank you but no thanks,
To you, politicians, Royals
For being shameful cause.
Eagerly was in search,
To find my ancestors,
Ending with Zoroaster.
Encountered Maneckji,
Read of his date of birth,
His actions to his death,
He, too is, suspicious!
His parents, Zoroastrians
Ran away, refuged,
So, he, an Indian
Chose to be an agent,
For rulers of London…
Even if loved Iran,
Even if he meant it,
Still is suspicious!
The Iran’s Zoroastrians
And Prairie’s reserves,
Are treated the same:
“Colonized must obey,
Laws written by winners!”
Said Malcolm, Napier:
“The Zoroastrians suffer!
Main purpose of my job,
Was logistic flight…
I was an officer,
Second, first lieutenant
To becoming major…
Visited world around,
Thanks to that sort of job.
Read and paid attention,
Discovered because cared!
Now, old dog in dark den,
I look back, remember,
Flashbacks of gone days!
Then flew V. I. H.
For Shah and King Hussein,
Shook hands of some leaders,
Listened, heard the looters,
Both in and out sights,
As liaison officer!
Mostly served the corrupts,
When flew peace and war!
With the books as friends,
Knew then as knew now:
“Fish rotten from head!”
Slogan in London,
On the arch of Subway:
“Down with shah!”
Rightly said Sir Acton,
The higher go leaders
The more are corrupted!
Wish had not seen to learn,
Ignorance is bliss!
Music of Andes,
Symphonia playing,
One beer, I feel good.
Real Free
It is said: “Be free like a bird!”
Free is lousy panhandler…
Saw him walk, did not care,
Was free…birds are caged!
Need a hug and cuddle,
Need friend with shoulder,
Need somewhere to rest head.
Am tired!
Am tired!
Am tired!
Black is my elbow,
Peeled skin off fingers,
Hot tray has burned them!
The palms of hands thickened,
The soles, heels, have hardened,
Skin of concrete is cover to flesh!
When remember women,
Laborers, working there,
Want to head for deserts,
Become waves in oceans,
In night’s cave hide away!
Want to shout, be thunder:
“Why the hell injustice?”
Need whispers of friends,
And comfort of shoulders.
See the same laborers,
Cheating like gravel,
To last long and be safe,
Walk on their own friends!
I shout and heart breaks:
“Why the hell be steps,
For the Goddamn master?”
Shattered into pieces,
Need a hug and cuddle,
Need friend with shoulder,
Need the chain of mountains.
I listen to most talks,
For reading, spend time,
Read from lefts and rights.
Rather stay neutral,
Prefer not to categories.
When science talks of life,
Non-mammals and mammals,
Earth, oceans, and the ponds
To the worms, birds, and rocks,
Think about the anting crows,
Curious, I remain mesmerized!
Feel worse than ancestors,
Without tools and science…
Thanks to churches, shrines,
Synagogues and the mosques,
Have rejected their God…
But also need someone,
For times that am alone,
To cry, ask question:
“How did it all happen?”
Wish could find replacement,
For the “Big Bang” banner…
No, no, no to books of
Abraham and his likes,
Lie priests and rabbis,
Even worse are mullahs!
“Ignorance is bliss,”
Lucky are the women,
Who work at conveyors!
They cheat, steal, little,
From time; long breaks,
Get home when dead tired!
Saw a she goat use her tongue,
Saw a vegetarian leaking blood!
She leaked her baby,
Still connected to umbilical
And weakly, fallen on the ground…
And in a total loss,
I was, mesmerized!
I have seen the cat, the dog, and the lion,
They cleaned, caressed, comforted,
Using their tongues…
My kiss came to mind,
The French one…
My tongue roamed in her mouth,
And I, am mesmerized…
What is love?
Tongue and love?
And read of Emily Dickenson,
And read of the Paulin Johnson,
Heard the lover Forough Farrokhzad:
“No, no, you are wrong, you make it up,
To digest it, you interpret it, how you want!”
And I wonder:
Care?
Love?
Lover?
If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.
Am not ant on the leaf,
And fallen, off tree,
In fear, and shouting!
Wear a tiny backpack,
Roam around country,
See the cows in dairy,
And those in bakery,
To planes and the ships,
See people travelling,
And others while biking!
Everywhere is commerce,
Ninety-nine, one percent,
With clocks, and marking:
“Employed, am working!”
Those in the palaces
Are busy accumulating!
Those in farms, factories
Are machines, surviving!
Time clock is set so
Even walk to the door
Laborers must afford!
Abuse is everywhere,
Abuse of cows, cattle,
Abuse of lamb, chicken,
Abuse of the workers,
And all the immigrants!
Media broadcast
The news but alas
If among accepted
And after the censor.
Tiananmen, Belarus,
Indicate use of boots,
But Tulsa and Kamloops
Are, in the jars, in darkness!
Want to write a poem,
Same as wrote an essay,
“The Road to Wigan Pier!”
At the end mentioned “Che!”
Result was obvious:
Anger makes rebellion!
Took me, to the scale:
Figures say: “Overweight!”
It is not fat, flesh,
Is weight of heart’s kettle,
Blood boils and thickens!
The Tulsa’s massacre,
The Kamloops, children,
Palestine, Israel,
And Yemen, forgotten,
Syria on fire,
By Russia, USA,
They compete and wrestle:
“Sell more tanks, jet planes!”
Kill the bear and deer,
Preserve ecosystem!
This causes overweight,
Not eating, sleep, rest!
Want to shout but silence,
Overcomes, I question:
“Which is worse,
Politics, business?”
Pen, dizzy, loses own way,
With British Home Children:
“Shipped to the Commonwealth?”
My answer was simple:
Then Royals, now, U.S. cause unrest!
Hope is not what I thought,
Hope is love for the young.
Hope is dart for bikers,
And RVs and campers.
Wrong was first encounter,
Like man who discovered:
“Residents of village
Are blind! All of them!”
Had mission to research,
Met three on his way,
Blind men, so, returned:
“Residents of village
Are blind! All of them!”
I questioned a couple,
A woman and husband,
From Hope, complained.
Hope stands by river,
Riverside has jungles,
Plenty are mountains,
And art of woodcarvers.
Our sisters,
His and mine!
His is alive,
Forever, all the time.
His father worked for shah,
Our father worked in the farms.
His could afford operating her nose,
She fixed her nose because,
Shah told her: “Is big, like mine!”
My sister lived as if never born,
She was an ignored,
Even by her own mother!!!
Hear me people,
I tell you to:
“Rewrite,
Rewrite, Rewrite.”
Rewrite the history,
Rewrite the biographies.
Write another Old Testament,
Amusing, and filled with lies.
Act as did the liar in a village,
Lie as did that trickster,
Or the charlatan, or magician.
He told my sister:
“It is the work of demon!”
Demon, as he said,
Killed her children!
She died as if never born,
She gave her life to defend,
The born and unborn children!
Helpless were pain killers,
Or the pens and paper!
I collapsed breathless,
Acted like dumb and deaf,
Could not write, finish, end,
What he called and mentioned!
Call from the Texas
Spoke of fences, walls,
And borders, and Cold War:
“Their device to kill us!”
I met him in Russia,
Then one of officials
From the UN’s side!
His father was a Khan,
Is quite nice, smart,
Now drives the trucks!
Talked politely and shy:
“This is how can survive,
Disgust it as my job!”
Already meant to write,
He added some spice!
My colleagues in UN
Had many clients,
In Russia’s Petersburg,
So, he was rejected!!!
I reread his file,
Now is USA…
Confused, desperate,
His sister, old mother,
In the Yankees’ culture
Were in shock, unaware!
My mouth has frozen,
All the words are lifeless,
Are confined to jail’s cells,
Superpowers make borders,
How to write, what to say?
Once, Brits and Russia
Marked a land as Afghans’:
“Neutral Zone between us!”
Big part of this landlock,
Is target for the bombs,
So, is a testing ground,
For all sides in Cold War!
His impaired old sister
Is in Balkh, has remained!
The mother’s oldest son,
Was kidnapped and murdered,
Ashgabat destroyed her youngest!
Enemies evil law
For killing old Iran:
“Vaporize, hang cultures,
Plow wrong, then harvest!”
Among the warmongers
Afghans’ blood is worthless!
Governments there are like,
A day, nights seasons of
North Pole the dusk, dawn!
Plenty, like caller’s
Siblings, old mother,
Are in pain and suffer!
He, Muslim, Hazara,
In cold war, lost father,
With Reagan, Gorbachev,
Mingling skies, Earth,
Went dreams, hope, friends!
She and I chose table,
Sat ordered hamburger.
While there and in waiting
We spoke, kept chatting.
Liked looking in her eyes,
They sampled seas, skies.
Rippled her pupils,
As if were two dead waves:
“Beauty means woman!”
Her hair a midday sun
Soft, floating, bright…
Her forehead, eyebrows,
Eyelashes, cheeks to mouth,
Were covered with makeup,
Beige powder and cream,
Wore rosy lipstick…
Suddenly a cloud
Covered her, she was out,
Faded in ex-colleague,
Worker of bakery,
A sad and old painting!
She, new immigrant
Came from poverty,
Of makeup had nothing!
Both her eyes and her hair,
Were black and despair!
She worked hard, I helped her,
Pushed the bins, bags, bread,
Motor turned and crushed,
All the garbage and junk,
That became food, cattle’s,
Hamburger was trash, plastic!
Found a job, finally,
With a large bakery!
Soon after I noticed:
“Such living is not me!”
Not for me!
Not for me!
World around, I have been,
Hunger, thirst, I have seen!
Is too hard to observe,
Dough, bread, go to waste!
I have seen, people with
The draught and famine,
Harvesting shortages
Of crop and the wheat!
Saw them eating barley!
But in large factory
The rulers are machines,
Men, women, hardly think,
They obey the setting!
Workers are like camels,
Blinded, turning mill,
Round and round, like Mary,
They crush cotton seeds,
Have no rights of talking!
Commercial factories
Have no heart, do not see,
They lecture, assure me:
“We are kind and thinking,
We help poor, and in need,
Feed cattle with the waste!”
Here, I am misfit!
One word poem
Am looking for a word,
A simple plain word,
Like maybe, yes, or no.
It can be verb, adverb,
Adjective, proverb,
Whatever, valuable!
Want to call it: “Poem,”
Treasure and concise in open.
Want it to be simple,
To the top and lower!
Synonyms, accepted,
Must define the wetness!
May have felt and may not,
Falling of raindrop,
In mid of summertime,
On scorched, burning dust.
Require, am in search,
For word that explains,
The changes, the smell,
Earth hosting new guest,
Everything that happens,
And the feelings, we get…
Is drop’s death a life?
Can it be “Devotion?”
Can it be “Sacrifice?”
Can it be “Resilience?”
Can it be “Tolerance?”
All in all, “Survival?”
“Petrichor,” I am told!
Can I call it poem?
Though single, is it well?
Satisfied? I am not, anymore!
Century, to many
Is figure, like others,
Before it, and after
A one…then…
Not for me and neither
For a tortured, murdered,
And buried in the caves,
In Tulsa and elsewhere,
Or exiled…
Via mountains, waters!
Century is long time,
If abused and deprived,
From the rights of life,
As Native, mother, child,
Or a daughter, old, young!
I am well-aware since,
Ancestors have suffered,
For thousands of the years,
By locals, invaders…
I am a particle,
Risen high and fallen,
Too many times, again,
Of, from life’s grace!
I am an ancient one,
From the Babylon
Or Elam, Siberia,
My friends in Tulsa
I know the meaning of
Century, since it meant,
Same to me, ancestors…
It means: “Run for shelter,
On your back a worn shirt,
And all roads end in Rome,
You and dog share same den!”
Is it a week already?
Lost track of the time!
Does it matter?
I mean to them,
To the kids,
Those murdered!
Want to write,
But what?
Do not dare,
Try to count,
Hundreds? Thousands?
Millions? Trillions? Zillions?
What are these shoes?
What are these toys?
Cannot fool me,
With the candles burning,
With the papers filling pages,
With the tango that wind dances,
With Ottawa’s half-mast flag!
Is it a week already?
Is it a month?
Is it a year? A decade?
A century? Or centuries?
With clinched fists, my thoughts roar:
“Paint the European progress,
The genocides, Red Rivers,
In ravines, sail of the Noah’s Arch!”
My heart says:
“Date goes back to the
Days of steam engines
And textile machines,
And the gun that killed!”
Today I,
After long,
Went shopping,
I purchased ice cream.
It is made from milk,
Milk of cows I know well…
They are like the people,
Plato’s, in the cave,
Know not sun!
They are fooled,
Angry, I feel them!
Trained to go to line,
For little sweet hay?
Machine-wash the nipples,
Sterilized, milking them?
What is life, birth to death?
Being born for abuse?
Where is joy, motherhood?
Where do end children?
Parted to be robot and return?
And the man who buys, sells:
“What are they? Animals!”
Did not man say the same?
Of slaves? Indigenous?
Lucky are mentioned cows,
They eat hay even if electronic,
The worse eat garbage, bread,
In bags of plastic, recycled,
Such cattle end in the hamburger!
Want to shout and rebel,
Against mankind’s system!
For months, years,
we shouted:
“They kill us with censor!”
You smiled, went away,
Now, thanks to Internet,
See that you, too,
suffer!
Arrived for conference,
Already, she was there.
Six of us were to be,
We spoke while waiting.
She drives to Langley,
Starts work too early,
From silver morning.
“Am mother and cannot,
Work any other time…
”Was enough, to tell me...
Back at home, cleaning,
Running life, and cooking,
For husband, and their kids!
Bravo, you, woman!
To you I, lift my hat!
Want to write a poem,
Same as wrote an essay,
“The Road to Wigan Pier!”
At the end mentioned “Che!”
Result was obvious:
Anger makes rebellion!
Took me, to the scale:
Figures say: “Overweight!”
It is not fat, flesh,
Is weight of heart’s kettle,
Blood boils and thickens!
The Tulsa’s massacre,
The Kamloops, children,
Palestine, Israel,
And Yemen, forgotten,
Syria on fire,
By Russia, USA,
They compete and wrestle:
“Sell more tanks, jet planes!”
Kill the bear and deer,
Preserve ecosystem!
This causes overweight,
Not eating, sleep, rest!
Want to shout but silence,
Overcomes, I question:
“Which is worse,
Politics, business?”
Pen, dizzy, loses own way,
With British Home Children:
“Shipped to the Commonwealth?”
My answer was simple:
Then Royals, now, U.S. cause unrest!
I recall when my Mom,
Praying, asked her God,
For my foes to be dumb!
Democrats are lucky,
Their foe is Marjorie,
Deep and far, fingering
In the nest of power,
That stings poisonous,
For biting has big fangs!
Of “History,” I keep thinking,
Makes me sit, keep laughing!
Look at the books in the shelves,
Well preserved, thin, thick, covered!
And the librarian declares:
“Are ancient and valuable!”
I laugh like crazy,
Tears keep falling,
No, am not crying!
From Nazca, Tabas
Lift capsules to space,
Astronauts are united,
With the eyes of brain,
We visualize, remember…
Remember the stones,
Small, large, all chiseled,
Flat-faced, and with curves.
Some have many layers,
As if books with pages!
Crash land in the desert,
We encounter mud vases!
To them we are strangers,
Khayyam’s is the greatest:
“Once this vase was like me,
Love-filled, tied to the misery,
And that handle, was a hand,
Around the neck of his angel.”
“History?” I question, know,
Is not in those books, written,
For the cruel royals, emperors,
And the lies, gilded by Tsars,
Overall, history is in rebellions!
Today is, day, in which,
I hear demanding:
“You better go confess!”
Today I, feel am caught,
By limbo, in my mind:
“Do I have to confess?”
Today I listen to
View of Ms. Manstey…
Today I watch part of
Rear Window of Hitchcock!
Today I, must reread,
Some poems of Shamlu…
All of them, in a way,
Compare the prison, freedom!
“The crowd, so many,
Fill the cells, squares!”
And I am…as I was…
In limbo of right, wrong
You talk of Abraham,
Are you deaf? Or a Dumb?
Guess you are kind of both!
Far too long, you ignored,
Slogan: “Yankee…home!”
Take your knee off my neck,
Then observe what happens!
By trunk, used trunk,
To eat of treetop.
Stepped on tiny ant,
It cricked, was cracked!
After time little one,
Crawled in the eye of…
Elephant that lost sight,
Found no food, therefore, died!
Honestly, I envy,
The birds when gliding.
Some flap, and rudder,
They float forever.
No need for jet, engine,
Or the birds’ flapping.
Envy them, I envy!
Suggested:
“Flush this language,
”Meant Yankees’,
British English:
“…
look at the Bear’s meanings!”
For months, years,
we shouted:
“They kill us with censor!”
You smiled, went away,
Now, thanks to Internet,
See that you, too,
suffer!
You got it?
If people know about
Bakeries, restaurants,
Will lose their appetite,
For going, eat outside!
A thousand and half, years
Rotated Sun, Moon, Earth,
Ash covered, most embers!
My parents, died, are gone,
They lived a great life,
Quite rich, filled with love.
They believed their bloods,
Were, as told them mullahs.
If so, I am hybrid,
To French, a Métis.
But being researcher.
Hungry for knowledge,
I went after core, base,
Inside books, in science,
The show widely differs!
My mother, by no means
Was grand, grandchild,
Of Islam’s prophet!
Poor woman, brainwashed,
As racist, she would fight,
Fact’s ember never dies,
I blew ash aside…
Had we been equal,
My effort would not come!
Did the same for El Che,
And sure, soon, or later
Comes to light Bin Laden!
Russia, China, others,
Israel’s supporters,
Peace lies in the justice,
Injustice causes pain,
With revolts, bloodshed!
Today, I,
Like mostly,
Am truly boiling,
With the thoughts
Within me
On fire; bubbling!
Today fight,
With two Charles,
Aznavour and Chaplin!
One with songs,
Another with movies!
Shout at them:
“Why the hell?”
Why the hell?
Why the hell?
I cry till tears,
Fill all the containers,
Carried by conveyors,
In the Chaplin’s movie:
“Modern Times”
Then freezes my voice,
Like song of Aznavour!
Today I am fighting,
With clouds and trees,
With Goddamn holiday,
For a long dead queen!
I never could like her,
She was some big liar,
Was a perfect actor,
Abuses with pretention!
Look at her tea-parties,
Who made them?
Who used them?
In concise: “Oppression!”
Badly in need of love,
She made him in her mind.
Statured lumberjack,
On his head, cowboy hat.
Watched trees, all falling,
Then, dragged, floating,
As timbers till went to
Drydock for loading.
Followed logs to the mills,
Observed works, skinning,
The remained, forwarding.
The fallen, dead trees
Now, lifeless on trips
Became an izba, walls,
Some flamed in furnace!
The poet of romance
Tightly held lumberjack,
Gave kisses, if got one,
Drowned and wet of lust!
Too busy making love,
Was lacking little time,
To think of life around!
Was blind to mountains,
And ignored life in caves,
Also, the beach, currents.
She and I, commonly
Are busy with writing,
In a way are colleagues!
Between us, are valleys,
Her thoughts are about sex,
I compare guns with pens,
Their actions, reactions!
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