n lungs, growing
up, wrapping around
knotting with nerves,
for the rest of me.
pulling me apart.
inside I am old
building with shattered
stained glass windows
bursting panes, bats
in my eaves, dust clinging
to surfaces stirred
with breezes rattling
around my bones.
Boundless dusk above forsaken intuitions
Stones with ancient seeds
Yet the roots can breathe
The earthly exuberance
The naked secret of our song
That manipulates my tounge
Redden from you and I
The contract of our lips
Simulating my hunger for your groin
The nerves of my vertebrates harbor your weight
As my breast shudder from your touch
Primal delicious desires
I thirst for the fluids of your flesh
With nurture and greed
I moisten your fingers
Help you find my sensitive pearl
Relishing the trail of the garden of youth
Primal delicious desires explode in need
Delicate softness of my mystical place
Lifting my body with much response
As my fingers dance, pinch and prod at my peaks
Repeatedly as you seduce me
I gasp and beg for your caress
I shudder as I chase my wave
Reaching as I whimper into a climax
Simulating my hunger for your groin
Inflaming my pores
I enlarge you ever so slow
Working my hands holding you from behind
One swift lick of your rigid flesh
You pull in a lungful of air
Your hot flesh started to grow
I ease you into my mouth
Circling as you keep the pace
Against me you put me in deep
The sweet taste of you makes me weak
Intense intervals underneath
Between your thighs
Intoxicating the very layers of my juice
I enlarge you once again
Moist and ready
I open my sweetness just for you
As I arch down onto you
Your hands rest on my hips
I begin to feel my flower grow
Whispering shallowly from my lungs
We flow inside each another
Deeper in my heat
Your aggressive arousal
Provoking me to quiver
The barrier surrenders to you and I
Vivid blossoms of tranquil harmony
Through the gateway of my womanhood
As you nurish the nutrients you covet for
My protruding pale pink buds
Plump with need
I'd hollow out to place you inside
I'd linger in this universe to pave your delicious desire
As you surrender pushing me down
You penetrate my mouth once again
As you reclaim my mouth soft and pink
It sickens me
To think that my ancestors were raped
By greasy, shaggy men from the north
Who burned down their houses
And pilfered their precious possessions
It sickens me
To think that I am but the last domino
In a centuries long trail of bastards
It sickens me
To think that my father is a bastard
His father was a bastard
And all my children will be bastards
And it sickens me
To think that I am so proud of that fact
Within my polluted veins may be found
Perhaps only one drop of foreign blood
But that drop of blood is from an ancient heathen deity
The years have diluted it but still it fills me
With a blissful rage, my poisoned skin tingles
With the most wonderful of furies
With every beat of my tainted heart the capacity
To duel with giants and annihilate armies
Resonates around my body
I feel I have the power to rend heaven
And lacerate the landscape of hell
With just my adulterated fingernails
Because I am the pink diamond
In the pile of precious stones
I’m impure, and I’m worth nothing to the masses
But I’m just as indomitable as my kin
So if any of my fellow white men
Strut round claiming to be pure, know this:
I will take a torch to your hall, hew your head
From your chauvinistic shoulders, and hang it
From my gateway as a warning to those who dare to disbelieve
That we are all somebody’s bastard
They are forever frozen,
towards the skies above.
They are told they
can touch the stars,
just out of reach.
Armies of them are placed
together -- frozen in the battle
to achieve their goal.
Wars are fought, lives lost
seasons past, years fly
they stand there - forever frozen.
Some are as ancient as the
others are born into the world
with this impossible task.
They are imprisoned
by the earth
but still reach for the stars:
Life is more than just time
It's more of poem with less of a rhyme.
Sky blue, trees brown, grass green....
You know what I mean?
Maybe it's not coming out right...trying to explain the meaning of life
But like.....who's knows what it is?
And the answer is:
This space is just for experience.
30 to 90 years of just feeling it.
Doing the things that you need to do,
and giving things back instead of just stealing shit.
You walk through the world just learning.
I sit in class just yearning,
"I need to be out there and I want to see."
My thought wheels keep turning.
And I try to be more than just one...
Because we weren't put on this world just for fun.
We are here for a reason.
But even that's hard to believe because we're suffering treason.
Like the kids these days.
Playing with fire
"You snaze, you laze."
But I digress.
Now, what was I talking about? Oh yeah,
Printing these stories about celebrities who quite frankly,
Just don't mean shit to me.
I mean, shouldn't we be focusing on something else for a change?
How about how the earth's climate has changed?
There are animals who are dying,
Their kind is shrinking.
Oh, and the water level is rising...
And we are still sinking.
Looks like no one is gonna build us a boat
So we all might have to hold onto our breath
And float on...like that band said.
"To be or not to be." Like that man said.
Right? Because our generation is so "stupid"
We have nothing to show because we don't do shit?
Well you just wait and see.
And for that you'll need patience and tenacity.
How about another subject? cause we have plenty of time.
A few years i'd say, but no...that won't fit in the rhyme.
So how about the mind?
It's a brilliant thing.
It controls us all like an ancient king.
Like for example, King Tut.
And i'd go on but you know what?
I just remembered I was talking about life, am I right?
It's already dark out, and as it turns out, I don't have all night.
So i'm going to leave you with this little piece.
And out of everything this is what i'd like you to take with you, please,
People don't get through it easy
But we are strong.
I mean, we're on top...right where we belong.
So really just...do what you gotta do.
I know the advice may be disappointing
But it's all that you'll need, dude.
As long as you do the things that you need
You have nothing to worry about and you will succeed.
So i guess life really ain't much
We talk and maybe think of it as such
You know what, forget all the rhymes.
Maybe life really is just...nothing but time.
Dandelions and daisies
More than the body
Sold openly on the street
By the kilogram
Men and women
Young and old.
The fall of one civilization
Merely to give rise
To one that will
Only hope to make men
In the lives of artifacts
Bare finger tips
Graze over frescoes
Litters every corner
Accompanied by waste
Amidst the gray haze
Of cigarette smoke
Clouding the view
Of snowcapped mountains
Dandelions and Daisies
Just a week ago I resided on West Tioga Street.
Blending into an unaccustomed scenery.
Approaching with suspicion- a hunter's mentality.
But there was no time for barbaric introspection.
I was on a different mission otherwise unidentified.
The Iroquois people presided over Tioga long ago.
Carving arrows yet craving peace.
They longed for a place to call their own.
But our ancestors destroyed their homes with their souls.
Running them to foreign lands with nothing but petrified reflections.
Now West Tioga Street is stricken with poverty.
Filled with senseless robbery and abandoned properties.
But I dug a little deeper- scratching the underlying atrocities.
These people just want ethical policies protecting their families.
These people just want quality establishments to secure themselves financially.
What is the difference between Tioga now and Tioga then?
Why must we implement ancient actions again?
Resorting to institutional animosity capable of destroying communities.
Sometimes I worry about this land of opportunity.
Where snobbery and inequality override accomplishing things honorably.
He is ancient steadfast
I am sure he was here when the world was created
I am sure he will be here when it ends
His gentle face carved with hard lines
He poured forth knowledge in his native Persian tongue
He called me Shohre
I learned it was his sister's name
He looked at me like a granddaughter and treated me just as sweet
“Ghabl az enghalab...”
Before the revolution...
After which would follow painful reminiscing of
The days before the current regime
When wine bubbled out from Shiraz
Men and women danced late into the night
And soft voices wove love songs in street cafes
“Ghabl az enghalab moalem dar daneshgah boodam.”
Before the revolution I was a university professor.
“Yeki az daneshjooyanam Ahmedinejad bood.”
One of my students was Ahmedinejad.
And in English, clear as hate,
“He was a bastard.”
One night I stayed back for extra lessons
We ate cherries from Costco and
Read excerpts from his autobiography
Pages crafted from right to left, vignettes of
His military service in Mashhad
And consequent teaching career
“Ba'ad az enghalab...”
After the revolution...
Was always followed with war stories
Political dissidents lost to Evin prison
Sharia law imposed on moderate minds
Escaping Iran by night with a phony visa
“Ba'ad az enghalab dar ketabkhane bayad kar konam”
After the revolution I had to work in the library.
“Khoastam yad bedahm, pas man o zanam be Amrika raftim.”
I wanted to teach, so my wife and I came to America.
He has not been home since 1981.
On December third of 2009 he walked smugly into the classroom
Setting a tape player happily on a desk.
He opened a folder from right to left
Produced a well-worn cassette
And played Happy Birthday, in Persian, for me.
He smiled at me with hands folded throughout the song
As I’d imagine he had smiled at
All the other special women in his life named Shohre.
He never played Happy Birthday for any of the other students.
Or gave them cherries,
Or went to their weddings,
Or held them while they cried when their grandfather died.
I do not know what he saw in me
But in each other we found family years and miles away from home.
The mighty rolling river is my sanctuary
Where the turbulent water reaches its shores
Landscaped by erosion’s rounded river rocks,
Every color and shape transformed by the mysteries within her shoals
Floodwater logs are cut for firewood here
Smoke dried salmon is cured and dried for food
Tyees’ souls join me here, born in quiet spiritual solitude.
Swirling eddies stirring, inspiring conscious universal muse
Water rushes past earth mother's terrestrial islands
Where eagles nest and soar up high
Beavers dam where flocks of geese swim
Blue Heron’s rookery fill trees to the apex of the sky
Head waters birthed in forked mountain high
Waters rise from beneath mother earth
Rapids pass villages plummeting miles and miles.
Gravity’s tug and draw journey to aid the salmon’s Holy birth
I know I’m one with sacred ground
Ancestors spirit's power is present at ease
The pulse of river water's muse
Is the pulse of this mixed-breed
The half-breeds myth, not Indian or White.
“Young buck born with a divided heart!”
We have big ears we hear everything
A step child orphaned, reborn into the spirit's light
The placid harmony of the river's gentle flow
Waters speak a mantra directly to my soul
I grieve the loss of ancestral grounds
Ancient territories pilfered for miles around
Upstream above where the mighty water falls
Landscaping this river's great divide
Cascading walls of water soar and plunge
From silhouettes high and wide
Centuries rivers carved and shaped an ominous path
Fertile valleys were eroded deep and wide by raging waters wrath
This place was graced through those centuries past
My heart's ashes will rest where river waters yearn to pass
Ancient brothers fished with spears from platforms built up high
Hollowed out trees, as paddled canoes, tended fish wheel traps side by side
In quest of the bountiful sacred Salmon, our food sustaining life
I embrace an ancient heritage, our spirit shall remain steadfast...
Mâyašlen yá he íčhiyopteya wakpá ipȟá...
Lakota note: Coyote was going past the source of the river...he sat next to me...