jeff-raheb - Hello Poetry

I was lost in the Bermuda triangle It was like Egypt in a sea of flesh the great pyramid ******* in all surrounding life A tilted triangle I thought circumscribed around your hunger but you knew my weakness Told me it was a fig fresh succulent sweet so I bit into its sweetness leaving my smile on your thighs Told me it was a grapefruit You were right I bent down and tasted it pink juicy kind of sweet kind of **** I ate every section lingering around the center with my tongue There were tremors in your skin as I swallowed your body as you swallowed my hardness as your body swallowed the milk of my trembling I came to Egypt I came in the great pyramid between sky and sand The Pharaohs were waiting for us You were waiting for me I visited the pyramids in Mexico and was jungled in like green-iguana-slowness like Asian fever sweet and sweaty swollen like an anaconda moving in and out digesting the heat of a fresh **** In Sudan, the Saharan winds shatter the pyramids into pieces I lick their dryness like a cat its fur let the heat burn my bowels Now there are tremors on my skin I exhale breath of wet fire into your lips and rain down upon your body like night crashing into the surf like sweat pouring into the sea like sand screaming into the wind I even became the wind so as to enter every part of your smoothness slipping past even your seditious skin The wind has no mercy We draw shapes in the morning light with our naked bodies while only the birds cover us with their fluttering wings made of the down of your brown belly I tasted that too like Indian velvet like a Bahian feast of papayas maracaja and guarana Da danca do mar In Brazil the sensuous sun seeps into the scorched sand where our form was and cuts through the hot flesh of the earth To the center where all desire has fused has seeped through the surface To the center where my mouth burns from wanting To the center where your wetness burns my tongue To the center Your center I Will Return

0

Aug 14, 2014

Aug 14, 2014 at 4:26 PM UTC

The Center

I was lost in the Bermuda triangle It was like Egypt in a sea of flesh the great pyramid ******* in all surrounding life A tilted triangle I thought circumscribed around your hunger but you knew my weakness Told me it was a fig fresh succulent sweet so I bit into its sweetness leaving my smile on your thighs Told me it was a grapefruit You were right I bent down and tasted it pink juicy kind of sweet kind of **** I ate every section lingering around the center with my tongue There were tremors in your skin as I swallowed your body as you swallowed my hardness as your body swallowed the milk of my trembling I came to Egypt I came in the great pyramid between sky and sand The Pharaohs were waiting for us You were waiting for me I visited the pyramids in Mexico and was jungled in like green-iguana-slowness like Asian fever sweet and sweaty swollen like an anaconda moving in and out digesting the heat of a fresh **** In Sudan, the Saharan winds shatter the pyramids into pieces I lick their dryness like a cat its fur let the heat burn my bowels Now there are tremors on my skin I exhale breath of wet fire into your lips and rain down upon your body like night crashing into the surf like sweat pouring into the sea like sand screaming into the wind I even became the wind so as to enter every part of your smoothness slipping past even your seditious skin The wind has no mercy We draw shapes in the morning light with our naked bodies while only the birds cover us with their fluttering wings made of the down of your brown belly I tasted that too like Indian velvet like a Bahian feast of papayas maracaja and guarana Da danca do mar In Brazil the sensuous sun seeps into the scorched sand where our form was and cuts through the hot flesh of the earth To the center where all desire has fused has seeped through the surface To the center where my mouth burns from wanting To the center where your wetness burns my tongue To the center Your center I Will Return

82

Shadows on the wall Leather puppet laughter seeping through the ground Javanese man long buried is uncovered by the puppet dance The hammering sounds of the gamelon orchestra move like vapors through the blood vipers through the ground Shadows on the wall Our shadows like puppets we are watched The darkness hides the real figures We see the shadows only our shadows Dancing on the wall The audience laughs from the wall We see ourselves sitting The wall is everywhere

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Aug 13, 2014

Aug 13, 2014 at 3:41 PM UTC

The Shadow Puppet (Jogjakarta)

Shadows on the wall Leather puppet laughter seeping through the ground Javanese man long buried is uncovered by the puppet dance The hammering sounds of the gamelon orchestra move like vapors through the blood vipers through the ground Shadows on the wall Our shadows like puppets we are watched The darkness hides the real figures We see the shadows only our shadows Dancing on the wall The audience laughs from the wall We see ourselves sitting The wall is everywhere

21

evening my Japanese friend returns to his room I sit in mine listening to the sound of rotting wood Then she comes again sneaking past the sleeping attendant she looks 14 ‘You want make nice nice’ No, I don’t want ‘nice nice’, I say again She laughs I refuse, leave my gray fungus covered hotel walk into a temple Rows of orange robed monks sit all around Death not a mystery He lies in front of me Burning in his saffron robe Orange smoke spiraling up joining night clouds and moon At midnight they will come and take his bones Not a mystery later, I sit with Buddhist children playing a guitar They sing melodies of the east our voices spiraling up joining orange clouds and saffron moon It is not yet midnight

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Aug 13, 2014

Aug 13, 2014 at 3:39 PM UTC

Songkla

evening my Japanese friend returns to his room I sit in mine listening to the sound of rotting wood Then she comes again sneaking past the sleeping attendant she looks 14 ‘You want make nice nice’ No, I don’t want ‘nice nice’, I say again She laughs I refuse, leave my gray fungus covered hotel walk into a temple Rows of orange robed monks sit all around Death not a mystery He lies in front of me Burning in his saffron robe Orange smoke spiraling up joining night clouds and moon At midnight they will come and take his bones Not a mystery later, I sit with Buddhist children playing a guitar They sing melodies of the east our voices spiraling up joining orange clouds and saffron moon It is not yet midnight

27

I pour you a cup of tea It drops on the ground quickly I pour you another cup it flows over the side I tell you get a new cup or burn your hand and stay thirsty

0

Aug 13, 2014

Aug 13, 2014 at 3:38 PM UTC

I pour you a cup of tea

I pour you a cup of tea It drops on the ground quickly I pour you another cup it flows over the side I tell you get a new cup or burn your hand and stay thirsty

12

Spin me Roll me Turn me Tearing off piece by piece Not even stopping at the skin Do my clothes look white and fluffy? You certainly seem to think so And no my name is not Scott How many wipes are left anyway I feel emptied Right down to the cardboard And these **** stains don't even come out anymore But lovers are like a roll of toilet paper They're always being replaced

0

Aug 13, 2014

Aug 13, 2014 at 3:37 PM UTC

Don’t Squeeze The Charmin

Spin me Roll me Turn me Tearing off piece by piece Not even stopping at the skin Do my clothes look white and fluffy? You certainly seem to think so And no my name is not Scott How many wipes are left anyway I feel emptied Right down to the cardboard And these **** stains don't even come out anymore But lovers are like a roll of toilet paper They're always being replaced

15

There appears a window at the top of my head and at night the stars and moon shine clear to my feet Like a greenhouse in the sun my organs are warmed and grow stem-like arms and bulb-like eyes and root-like feet When the snow melts I stand on my hands and open the window wide for spring cleaning

0

Aug 13, 2014

Aug 13, 2014 at 3:37 PM UTC

Spring Cleaning

There appears a window at the top of my head and at night the stars and moon shine clear to my feet Like a greenhouse in the sun my organs are warmed and grow stem-like arms and bulb-like eyes and root-like feet When the snow melts I stand on my hands and open the window wide for spring cleaning

14

Word falls from my tongue d r i p s like saliva on my floor you tissue it up find ways to make it river I smile you understand

0

Aug 13, 2014

Aug 13, 2014 at 3:36 PM UTC

Words

Word falls from my tongue d r i p s like saliva on my floor you tissue it up find ways to make it river I smile you understand

13

Bosnia, March, 1994, from an NPR interview with a 15-year-old Muslim girl. Serbian forces were shelling the area we occupied. We tried to persuade her it would be safer to lie on the ground, as we were doing. She was indifferent and seemed to ignore us. She stood and talked freely amidst the noise. She told us she liked country music and that school was getting boring and in the same casual tone asked us, ‘How long are people going to watch us die?’ She said she liked country music Exploding sky, color of death Exploding bodies Men, children, women Terror pounding ears like the heart beats of a four legged veal marsala waiting to die Putrid flesh, burning houses, torched spirits 15-year-old girl Steel eyes melting under the heat of genocide Imploding mind, split into a thousand screams Only war By whatever means Deafening anguish Running, deafening heart in throat, running She said she liked country music 24, 41, 32 15 years old This one here 82, 12, 7 years old Said she liked... Tie her wrists Neighbor, aunt, niece Liked count---try music Tighter Grandmother, sister Spread her legs And that school was getting boring Spread her legs Daughter, mother, wife And that school was getting... Tears running down the blood running down the legs running down the Savage streets filled with broken Coke bottles Wider, shove it, shove it Coke bottles shove it Spread them wider Shove it Shove it …. in 15-year-old girl 13, 7 Faster, faster Knife in hand on throat in blood All the way, IN Who cares Fear disguised as hatred Turning ***** into bullets Piercing flesh Piercing humanity Just a female, just a body, just a toy Was getting boring No life, no more, no more Then she turned to us and said how long... Exploding wombs, death Eyeballs peeling off in horror How long... She said... Blood, legs, open, ****** open She said... Point of knife, ****** in ****** in center Center of humanity How long will... ****** who cares? Piece of meat Feed our revenge Feed our war machines Feed our weakness for power Shove it in The NY Times today stated that the UN council on human rights abuse has agreed that systematic **** is possibly being used by Serb forces as a tool for genocide against the Bosnian Muslims and that as such, may be viewed as a violation of international law. A warning will be issued to the... A warning will be issued to the... A warning... She said how long... After two years Brutal rapes After two years 20,000 30,000 Systematic rapes possibly being used 50,000 Before, who cares International law Only now they decide to act Genocide, So what How long will... That systematic **** ***** like lead bullets Is possibly being... Harder ****** the ******* thing all the way in Then she said... Wider And then she... Wider, Wider ***** And then she... Get another, she’s dead, get another And then... Get another ******* ***** And then she said... ******* ***** She said ******* ***** She turned to us and said...... How long are people going to watch us die?

0

Aug 13, 2014

Aug 13, 2014 at 3:35 PM UTC

For The Women Of Bosnia

Bosnia, March, 1994, from an NPR interview with a 15-year-old Muslim girl. Serbian forces were shelling the area we occupied. We tried to persuade her it would be safer to lie on the ground, as we were doing. She was indifferent and seemed to ignore us. She stood and talked freely amidst the noise. She told us she liked country music and that school was getting boring and in the same casual tone asked us, ‘How long are people going to watch us die?’ She said she liked country music Exploding sky, color of death Exploding bodies Men, children, women Terror pounding ears like the heart beats of a four legged veal marsala waiting to die Putrid flesh, burning houses, torched spirits 15-year-old girl Steel eyes melting under the heat of genocide Imploding mind, split into a thousand screams Only war By whatever means Deafening anguish Running, deafening heart in throat, running She said she liked country music 24, 41, 32 15 years old This one here 82, 12, 7 years old Said she liked... Tie her wrists Neighbor, aunt, niece Liked count---try music Tighter Grandmother, sister Spread her legs And that school was getting boring Spread her legs Daughter, mother, wife And that school was getting... Tears running down the blood running down the legs running down the Savage streets filled with broken Coke bottles Wider, shove it, shove it Coke bottles shove it Spread them wider Shove it Shove it …. in 15-year-old girl 13, 7 Faster, faster Knife in hand on throat in blood All the way, IN Who cares Fear disguised as hatred Turning ***** into bullets Piercing flesh Piercing humanity Just a female, just a body, just a toy Was getting boring No life, no more, no more Then she turned to us and said how long... Exploding wombs, death Eyeballs peeling off in horror How long... She said... Blood, legs, open, ****** open She said... Point of knife, ****** in ****** in center Center of humanity How long will... ****** who cares? Piece of meat Feed our revenge Feed our war machines Feed our weakness for power Shove it in The NY Times today stated that the UN council on human rights abuse has agreed that systematic **** is possibly being used by Serb forces as a tool for genocide against the Bosnian Muslims and that as such, may be viewed as a violation of international law. A warning will be issued to the... A warning will be issued to the... A warning... She said how long... After two years Brutal rapes After two years 20,000 30,000 Systematic rapes possibly being used 50,000 Before, who cares International law Only now they decide to act Genocide, So what How long will... That systematic **** ***** like lead bullets Is possibly being... Harder ****** the ******* thing all the way in Then she said... Wider And then she... Wider, Wider ***** And then she... Get another, she’s dead, get another And then... Get another ******* ***** And then she said... ******* ***** She said ******* ***** She turned to us and said...... How long are people going to watch us die?

105

Dal Lake I float on Dal Lake Suspended between the thick soupy crisp air of soldiers water lilies, Kashmiri bread and the Muslim prayers that penetrate the hardness of war chanting Allah Bismallah Floating Islam Holy words drenching the air Drenching the green cloth of Hindu soldiers Sliding down the cool metal of a rifle 9 years of war 1,000 houseboats lie empty in the Himalayan fog Intricately carved furniture Thick with dust and the powder of blood and bullets Himalayan silhouette etched black against the song of lotus gatherers Foggy voices like cloud of moon Lotus lake Gray of war and desperation Children beg 1 rupee 1 rupee 1 rupee Endless monologue Parched like lotus shaped paddle They throw flowers to me endlessly I throw them back endlessly Time passes slowly like smoke on a lizard’s tail trailing in the thick, rancid air of burning meat and maple leaves Like a shikara moving over the glass of Kashmir The sound of a dozen Bangees floating over the water Hollow, solemn and mournful Echoing against the hardness of the surrounding mountains The circle of Himalayas Like a womb around the prayers of Pachin In the middle of the lake I hear the call to prayer Azan Nemarz Suba Azan Nemarz Pashin Azan Nemarz Degar Azan Nemarz Sham Azan Nemarz Koftan From dawn till dusk Azan 4 mosques 4 singers 4 directions staggered by a breath like an imperfect echo Azan slips into the pockets of island soldiers Waters the impatience of soldiers on the shore Steals into the vacant eyes of soldiers in the Mosque They want to go home to their wives and children They want to leave the place of prayer, which is not theirs The place of prayer, which has seen death The place where God was pushed out In order to not see the killing To **** what they don’t see The place, which was no longer a refuge Outside Dal Lake turns to the color of red lentils cooking in a dented metal *** In the Shikara boat we eat dal and rice and throw scraps into the silver water where it washes up onto the ***** boots of a soldier I hear the dull gray click, click of his rifle as it touches the ground The prayers have ended

0

Aug 13, 2014

Aug 13, 2014 at 3:34 PM UTC

Dal Lake

Dal Lake I float on Dal Lake Suspended between the thick soupy crisp air of soldiers water lilies, Kashmiri bread and the Muslim prayers that penetrate the hardness of war chanting Allah Bismallah Floating Islam Holy words drenching the air Drenching the green cloth of Hindu soldiers Sliding down the cool metal of a rifle 9 years of war 1,000 houseboats lie empty in the Himalayan fog Intricately carved furniture Thick with dust and the powder of blood and bullets Himalayan silhouette etched black against the song of lotus gatherers Foggy voices like cloud of moon Lotus lake Gray of war and desperation Children beg 1 rupee 1 rupee 1 rupee Endless monologue Parched like lotus shaped paddle They throw flowers to me endlessly I throw them back endlessly Time passes slowly like smoke on a lizard’s tail trailing in the thick, rancid air of burning meat and maple leaves Like a shikara moving over the glass of Kashmir The sound of a dozen Bangees floating over the water Hollow, solemn and mournful Echoing against the hardness of the surrounding mountains The circle of Himalayas Like a womb around the prayers of Pachin In the middle of the lake I hear the call to prayer Azan Nemarz Suba Azan Nemarz Pashin Azan Nemarz Degar Azan Nemarz Sham Azan Nemarz Koftan From dawn till dusk Azan 4 mosques 4 singers 4 directions staggered by a breath like an imperfect echo Azan slips into the pockets of island soldiers Waters the impatience of soldiers on the shore Steals into the vacant eyes of soldiers in the Mosque They want to go home to their wives and children They want to leave the place of prayer, which is not theirs The place of prayer, which has seen death The place where God was pushed out In order to not see the killing To **** what they don’t see The place, which was no longer a refuge Outside Dal Lake turns to the color of red lentils cooking in a dented metal *** In the Shikara boat we eat dal and rice and throw scraps into the silver water where it washes up onto the ***** boots of a soldier I hear the dull gray click, click of his rifle as it touches the ground The prayers have ended

81

Zu Twa Szi (Don't Mind Me I'm Just The Wind - African saying) Don't mind me I'm just the wind You can scream into me if you want I'll just toss the sound around until it wallows into melody You can dry tears by me if you need I'll just carry their saltiness back to the sea You can try to keep me from your skin with all the skill of a master builder But I'll search out every opening there is and rub against all your privacy without a second thought I have no manners or morals or modesty or inhibitions or judgments I won't reveal your whispers I'll dissolve them I won't discuss your secret doings I'll scatter them I won't scorn your libidinous thoughts I'll caress them If you rail against me or try to beat me with your fists I'll just part like the Red Sea and move to both sides of where your fists have been You can spit at me when you're angry I'll just spray it back in your face You see I'm just the wind I don't hold your happiness when you laugh Or your loneliness when you cry I don't hold your anger when you scream I'm just the wind, a traveler With no baggage or destination With nothing to see and nowhere to be seen Seemingly nothing You are the absence of space that merely hinders my journey

0

Aug 13, 2014

Aug 13, 2014 at 3:33 PM UTC

Zu Twa Szi

Zu Twa Szi (Don't Mind Me I'm Just The Wind - African saying) Don't mind me I'm just the wind You can scream into me if you want I'll just toss the sound around until it wallows into melody You can dry tears by me if you need I'll just carry their saltiness back to the sea You can try to keep me from your skin with all the skill of a master builder But I'll search out every opening there is and rub against all your privacy without a second thought I have no manners or morals or modesty or inhibitions or judgments I won't reveal your whispers I'll dissolve them I won't discuss your secret doings I'll scatter them I won't scorn your libidinous thoughts I'll caress them If you rail against me or try to beat me with your fists I'll just part like the Red Sea and move to both sides of where your fists have been You can spit at me when you're angry I'll just spray it back in your face You see I'm just the wind I don't hold your happiness when you laugh Or your loneliness when you cry I don't hold your anger when you scream I'm just the wind, a traveler With no baggage or destination With nothing to see and nowhere to be seen Seemingly nothing You are the absence of space that merely hinders my journey

44