Riverside, CA    1992 -   
Lost laureate of yet another lost generation.

beautiful bastards, the lot of you.
Lost laureate of yet another lost generation.

beautiful bastards, the lot of you.
EJ Aghassi
EJ Aghassi
6 hours ago

your hair hanging over
over your face
I looked up at you
you were the sun
you were the moon
I saw stars in
your pretty complexion
galaxy swirls beneath
your eyelids

your tender hand
traces tender wound
it hurt but my heart
delighted, skipped,
there was no other
closeness such as that

the transition of body
temperature, tempering
unspoken songs
there is a care out there,
in the vast, beautiful
emptiness of space

it's all consuming and
I admire it so, it's omni-
present and powerful
the bandage is the
symbol, is the bond,
is the willingness to
heal, is the willingness
to grow stronger and
it can be nothing at all
it's still so wonderful

the connection
the interaction is
the chain reaction
of all those things
so wonderful and
I want you to know
how wonderful
you really are

so it goes
#poem   #poetry   #want   #beauty   #strange   #you   #connection   #care   #wonderful   #neorealism  
  Reposted by EJ Aghassi  ·  1 day ago

As a bathtub lined with white porcelain,
When the hot water gives out or goes tepid,
So is the slow cooling of our chivalrous passion,
O my much praised but-not-altogether-satisfactory lady.

EJ Aghassi
EJ Aghassi
1 day ago      1 day ago

breathing is getting harder
time keeps moving slower
there's a feeling that is
beating- repeating, repeating

my heart is growing weary
from reality so dreary
insanities plague my dreams
night terrors and screams

legs grow sore from running,
migraines in a heavy head
doubts are no doubt cunning
if you're not moving you're dead

but you start to learn to laugh a bit
at all this stupid shit you let
terrorize the sunny skies & the
feeling of looking in her eyes

i need only willing hand
to help me to my feet and stand
upon my failures, doubts and
the slow venom of being man

smiles now worn with confidence
is well received recompense
for hours, days, months on the fence
and inability to make sense

it takes both to make it so
stay true to yourself, although
you think yes while feeling no
there is no crime in letting go

i've long made home here on the floor
there's nothing to feel guilty for
storms come with grasping the hand
of a delusional human

it could be catastrophe
forming instantaneously
it could be summer through rain
sunbeams cradling the soul pains

i'm reaching, reaching
proudly beseeching
i'm open to the end
if you'll let me in

i'm breathing, needing
wanting and feeling
how strange it is
to feel again

how strange to feel again
EJ Aghassi
EJ Aghassi
2 days ago

O kaptain

this ship is out of control
I've never felt
so sick at sea
and it's all so wonderful

the stars are swirling
waves are crashing
the tide is running high

the salty breeze
on wounded knees

and sickness
soon to subside

across the unforgiving sea
you are wherever I will roam

this ship is a feeling
a mansion, prison

& it's the closest thing to home

this is old

it turned up
EJ Aghassi
EJ Aghassi
5 days ago

the vibe became unmanageable
I had to step outside

and when my tenseness was
met with motherly dark
the shouting became
muffled whispers

oh, beautiful night
you know not of
pride or vanity

or senseless need
to assert

you just are,
as you have been:

immensely more
profound, than
all that we have been
or will do

it's as simple as that

I take a drag of
my cigarette & smoke
mixes with the
enlightened night air

& the mindless
shouting becomes song

fickle things, human beings
#poem   #poetry   #alone   #thoughts   #night   #think   #comfort   #relief   #solace   #neorealism  
  Reposted by EJ Aghassi  ·  Jan 24
Federico García Lorca

Murdered by the sky.
Among the forms that move toward the snake
and the forms searching for crystal
I will let my hair grow.

With the limbless tree that cannot sing
and the boy with the white egg face.

With the broken-headed animals
and the ragged water of dry feet.

With all that is tired, deaf-mute,
and a butterfly drowned in an inkwell.

Stubmling onto my face, different every day.
Murdered by the sky!

it's tragic and it's beautiful
bountiful and bound to fall
it's everything and nothing
and all things in between

my heart sinks, my lips arch
my feet walk, my hands grasp,
my eyes seek, spirit falters,
my skin yearns for
brushes against hers

my dreams mature, though, &
grow closer to a grave below

the green grass now
covered in white sorrow

you are the ghost,
the spirit of snow

fleeting, near-perfect
sad, wonderful

but I long to be
enveloped by thee

I long to see the
ice up to my knees

I'll disappear and
freeze, in that moment

that beautiful moment
eternally yours,
perpetually ours

frozen in time,
frozen in beauty

I'll freeze to death
if you let me

stream of consciousness kind of or whatever

I keep on writing about the same thing
#love   #poem   #poetry   #beauty   #sorrow   #snow   #cold   #freeze   #neorealism  
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