Dedicated to my best Romanian friend Vasile
you are so beautiful
as no word can describe you as
your beauty is unique
your beauty is untouchable
your beauty is adorable
but you are so beautiful
as no word can describe you as
(Inspired by a photo.)
We accept the love we think we deserve, but why do we only accept that which hurts?
Is it because we think that they should love us, as much as we love
ourselves?
They can try to show us that we deserve so much more, but inside we will always believe that something this good can only be untrue.
Is it a hoax? What are you going to do?
This just doesn’t feel right, we’re through.
Now tell me, do you turn back to his screaming, because you think
that’s what you deserve?
Or is it because you think he knows you better then anyone else? Do
you turn back to him because it’s odd without his presence near?
Dry your tears, you are much more than what you’re crediting yourself for, nothing is never too good to be true.
It just depends on you.
Imagine, briefly, a world. Not
the one fifty years ago.
Not the once-murderous lynch
mobs and the damage done.
Not the one a hundred years ago,
tenements and squalor.
Or the one a revolution ago,
full of rebellion and cause.
Maybe just the world that features
a tree, some earth, a quiet
world where people speak kindly,
always offer,
and only refuse when necessary.
Passion is my action, aware of my transaction.
Eyes are watching, shadows crossing, beware that you are casting.
No need to lie needle in your eye, hearts crossed and no more
laughing.
Seriousness becomes my masking, two worlds begin a clashing.
While false hopes unwind I crawl through time, to save my everlasting!
The time to have put away
certain memory foamed longings
may have already passed
years ago. Sitting in driveways
(always someone else’s)
and staring at the damage
of front lawns
made a mockery of by cell phone towers
in the distance
transforming simplicity
by stunting our dreams, lost roads
and small blessings- all that the photo eye
can take in.
As children we were never able
to make the necessary separations
between our experience of a place
and the actual inertness of the ground.
To be many worlds apart from the familiar
can send our loss back
to its competing history,
when was I here last?
And who was I then? And what now?
I notice there are fine lines
and burdens that cost more
than direct devastation,
yet still something very serious,
I think, is slipping out, a beyond-
where reach will become
no longer possible, for us.
I’ve got no less
than three running
simultaneously
as if this is a race
of thought and hand
across a page and
heaven’s the end.
I thought i was ready to go toe to toe,
And beat every obstacle, challenge and foe.
That was however a big mistake of mine,
Not just a mistake, my biggest crime.
To my knees I was brought crashing down,
I looked like a fool and felt like a clown.
I was torn apart and ruthlessly destroyed,
My soul emptied and of any passion devoid.
Then within myself I found an ember burning,
A tiny spark and the gears started turning.
I pieced myself together slowly back,
And started searching for a plan of attack.
I now spread my wings of hope and fly,
Like the mighty eagle in the sky .
I have come back; back from the dead,
To take revenge for every word you said.
You wrote me off, that was unwise,
Now like the Phoenix I shall rise.
Take a look at our crawling minds
as they walk on their fractured knees
hands knitted to the earth podium
all on the journey to move on.
Tell it to Papa
to pass the message across
with his dusty rusty gong
round the nooks and crannies of men’s hearts
the message to stand up to the challenge.
Sound it into the eardrum of mama
to inform her mates-market women
to tie their wrappers round their waists
with loins to fit
for the fire is about to be kindled.
My mother came from a blind destiny.
From periods of unjust cruelties.
She lived through a time of an old oligarchy to the new one, only the golden crown was replaced by a black turban.
She lived through the periods of human against inhumanity
My mother was a Persian gypsy and sang her freedom song so long in
dark alleys till her voice went blind like her life.
