Carlos & Blue
Maybe he can drown thatthere love of his
like his liver–no bigger than a dime now
but still worthy of the ten pennies in his pocket.
She’s covered with dayburst all the way up to heaven.
80 days gone, six foot deep like an Ophelia
once read about 30 years before. Nothing hurts
much like death expect for swallowing
the distilled tears of moonshine breath,
he thinks.
only nerves
A feeling, emotion
that you call the physical pain
below your ribs
above your stomach
below your heart
above your hips.
You’ve waited for this,
nearly half your life was spent
hoping, wishing for it.
It’s not what you expected.
The feeling doesn’t sweep you away
or cause a warm haziness.
It’s a stab of worry
a pinch of unease
a slash of doubt
a throb of uncertainty.
You dared to hope,
but instead feel only the things
that replace the love
you long for.
the way of the world
We are all born alike,
created in love, conceived as a blessing.
But the hatred of the world usurps our beauty
leaving lustful, voluptuous, vultures
in our stead.
Is the love we receive a gift out of truth?
Or does obligation slip resent into play?
Mother loves her baby
Groom loves his bride
I question these bonds:
for mankind’s too naive
Life is a downward spiral to death.
Starting strongly in love,
growing first- before waning
leaving space for time to take it’s course.
And hatred feasts n the ageing souls
who’s love has been spent.
Such, is the way of the world
Where do we go from here?
There’s no point here
Just some pain
Holes
And tears
I can’t ever be happy
But I wanted you to be
So now what
I can’t tell you how sorry I am
My mouth doesn’t work anymore
Are we in hell?
Everyone says I love you
But no one wants me
What the fuck are we doing?
I keep cutting myself
Wishing my spilled life
Could make everything better
Nothing’s ever better
Sometimes I wonder
How many believers there are out there
Who realized the lie
For what it was
And died crying
The Iranian Girl
There’s a hole in the ground
A moving of earth, now made
A sad depression
Where once she played in
Puddle-rain
Splashing with the joy that comes
From child-like feet
The sound is still here
In the air, the breeze yet carrying
The secret laughter
That haunts the waking hours of those
Who’ve lost the way
How vain to think that
Memory can be erased
All will remember
No one escapes
I wonder if she saw it
The moment before
Her hair still flying free
The metal catching that last
Pure glint of sun
Did she hear the explosion
That made no sense
Did she feel
Her body come apart
And fall like dust, too soon
Does anyone ask
Whatever she felt, whatever she dreamed
Her dreaming time is gone
And no lofty word of God or
Glory will ever make it right
Dare to listen and you will
Hear her
Dare to open your eyes and see
The Iranian girl
No different
Like you, like me.
(Previously published in StopWarOnIran.org, Nov.2007)
A love lost
There has to be a time where we say enough is enough
Where we have to think about maybe cutting our loses
Maybe go as far as moving on
When do we say it?
When do we follow through?
A love lost may be gone forever and what more can we do?
what is pain’s concept?
Why is pain, pain?
Why does it hurt so much? Why does it feel like your body is in a storm?
It makes your eyes rain,
Rain with dispassion
Always in disguise.
Pain is never truthful, its always telling lies.
So why reall does it exist?
What is pain’s true concept?
All I really know is that’s its hard to resist, or escape
Or debate its only purposes
When will we ever know what pain’s purpose is?
what is pain’s concept?
Why is pain, pain?
Why does it hurt so much? Why does it feel like your body is in a storm?
It makes your eyes rain,
Rain with dispassion
Always in disguise.
Pain is never truthful, its always telling lies.
So why reall does it exist?
What is pain’s true concept?
All I really know is that’s its hard to resist, or escape
Or debate its only purposes
When will we ever know what pain’s purpose is?
Choices
Walking down a dirty and rocky path.
Head down, mind being overwhelmed,
With so many indecisive thoughts.
Walking slowly, trying to take all the time in the world.
Mind still working like a machine, you look up,
Your eyes open wide. Take a breath.
It seems like the clock has stopped ticking.
Time is paused like a game.
Look right. Look Left. Don’t bother looking ahead.
To the right you see an image of a free individual man.
Old yet wise and looking a far,
Staring at a lake glistening like crystals with evergreens surrounded.
At that picture perfect moment,
You gasp at the sight;
A lively free soul that mutually joins nature,
Like a stallion galloping wildly in a pasture.
This sight captivates your own soul.
It ignites a wild fire of excitement and amazement in your eyes.
Look Left. Look right. Don’t bother looking ahead.
To the left you seem to lose that flicker of grand emotion.
Your eyes cast downward at the dull image.
An image of people wearing the same clothes and doing the same thing.
A sooty valley of metallic and cold skyscrapers surrounds these people
Before your eyes flashes a glimpse of a prison cell.
No freedom and no individuality.
The thought of your spirit being trapped in that cell scares you.
Gaze starting to drift. Stop.
There’s no image in the middle.
Only two paths, two choices.
There is no escape route.
Choose.
Eyes still narrowed from the image on the left,
You look up trying to find a answer from the dreamy sky above.
You close your eyes and you feel the fresh air blowing from the right.
Mesmerized you head right, and move against the wind.
Walking down, head up, you’ve freed yourself, your soul.
Keep walking and never look back.
Low Cloud
Sleep hangs above me like low flossy cloud,
Cloud that will not let the rain be allowed,
I want to lie down, let the fog wrap me up,
‘Cos I’m tired of drinking from this empty cup,
Come down cloud and blanket me now,
Let me fall to the ground and forget about how,
I’ve been walking for years and my feet are so raw,
My eyes filled with tears from the things that I saw,
My heart is still there, but it beats far too slow,
To give any peace to my fingers and toes,
They twitch with fatigue from walking this road,
And itch with the need to let it all go,
So I’m throwing them up and inviting you down,
I’m begging for floods and I’m dying to drown,
In your rivers of rest and be carried away,
To be reborn again in a land far away,
But the rain will not pour, it just spits on my head,
And reminds me that I have to make my own bed,
Maybe I’ll lie on this cold gravel street,
And wait for the dogs that are starving for meat.
Or maybe I’ll sleep in this gutter tonight,
And hope for the rain with my eyes shut so tight.
