I just sit on the stairs
I gave the entrance ticket
to someone, a few more minutes
The show begins, I already know what story
that will be on display, and I'm bored
I just sat on the stairs
Crowds come cheerfully
coupled with wry lies
I know who they are, but
they pretended not to see me
I just sat on the stairs
in front of a performance house
actually, who lives and what is there
in this house? Is only hope that must be
I bought with a very expensive ticket?
Yesterday I read in the rest of the local newspaper
articles that are far from the headlines
someone wrote a review about
the theater is dim, the actors are getting worse,
and bankrupt show management.
I just sat on the stairs
see people pretending to be happy
buy a ticket with the remaining savings
that should be paid
for health insurance.
Nov 29, 2019
Nov 29, 2019 at 5:49 AM UTC
by Hasan Aspahani
1. Is prison only behind walls and iron bars or is it also in a free land that wants to be erased from history and maps?
2. Is killing possible only by the army and with weapons or also from the silence of the person who should speak?
3. What fears are now making you unable to feel the fear of hundreds of thousands of people whose homes burned, as well as mosques and rice fields left behind?
4. Can not you just imagine what they want to do is go home, study, and sit on the edge of the bed waiting for the dying mom?
5. Is it still beautiful that peacock dance when in between the tail feathers prepare army troops opened fire on people who do not understand why they must be expelled or die?
6. Do you want to once again get The Nobel Peace Prize for something you have to do that I should not mention in this question?
Sep 10, 2017
Sep 10, 2017 at 12:11 AM UTC
GOD said,
"There is no god,"
And I believed
in Him.
Sep 2, 2017
Sep 2, 2017 at 1:08 AM UTC
I a m hungry, therefore I am - Garfield
IN prayer he will never utter
it waits for the rain of milk,
a heavy rain, because of him
the cat with thirsty tongue, see with
its own eye, when mother was disappear.
In prayer he never dared to ask
it wants a fishy fish neck,
the smell of a fisherman,
no care about salt salinity, or its own sweat.
In prayers he will never say
it expected the lap, the fire on that stove
warm, and maybe also sear.
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 8:57 AM UTC
WHAT is the color deserted? He hides from the eye catch, over time, blooming orange gerbera, we plant it in the wounded land.
What is the scent of lonely? Blood that does not drip, the sap that does not flow from gerbera stalk wound, when we pick it.
What is the taste of lonely? Leaves fall not brewed, imagined what is dissolved in our cups, which once did not get to the petals gerbera.
Aug 9, 2017
Aug 9, 2017 at 8:59 AM UTC
Me and the drizzle
Are two different things
Who loves every strand of your hair.
Me and the moon
Are two different things
Who hopes to fall in the pool of your eyes.
Me and the air shiver
Are two different things
Who wants to marry all your embrace.
Aug 7, 2017
Aug 7, 2017 at 8:29 AM UTC
Please
Pick up my call
For the sky will fall
And the last thing I want to hear
Is your soul.
Aug 5, 2017
Aug 5, 2017 at 10:01 AM UTC
HE stroked a white cat. The cat slowly turns into a cloud. He was about to cup the cloud but the whole cloud came into his eyes. She became sleepy and fell asleep.
The cloud that had entered his eyes became cloudy outside his eyelids. He dreams about a sheet of sky that will rain. Then woke up with slightly wet eyelashes. But it was not the tears.
*HE:
Who cried in my eyes last night?*
He did not see, the cat or the cloud wanted to answer but they were stuck in a holy book that on one page of inserted a brochure course an easy way to reach the paradise that has been long past the date of its operation.
Aug 4, 2017
Aug 4, 2017 at 12:54 PM UTC
WHERE are they who want thousand bottles of wine?
Just a bunch of cowards and clowns went away...
Fake cartographer and some roadside circus guys
The restraurant's waitress asked them to get home,
Removing lip globs in the corners of their lips ...
Did not know there was a Dead reaching out to the neck,
Did not stop in the marching room of a bottle of wine,
Just a poet on the edge, hiding in the rhyme line!
Where are they who want thousand bottles of wine?
Aug 2, 2017
Aug 2, 2017 at 6:54 AM UTC
My head is a bay. The memory of you like the waves that swarm when the wind switches and the whistle of the ship is sounded. The longitude lines fall on a map, the navigation is helpless when I'm bowed in the presence of your eyes. That eyes which was made from the rainy season.
Your ships contain anxiety, vulnerable content, whereas love is a minor deviation from a cruise line. I am the dock for you. Anchored and wake the seagulls. For a long time no one leaned, or just reminded that the sea is not always blue.
Anchored and wake me up. Because your whisper is more patient than the air that hit the masts. Your presence is the reason why light is never lost at the top of the lighthouse.
Anchored and wake me up. Because the best morning is when my longing is covered with your eyelashes, my sleep is overgrown with black dots that hold your lip line, my vanish is ****** in a trough hidden behind your soul.
Wake me, with the most desolate shaking you have.
Aug 2, 2017
Aug 2, 2017 at 6:36 AM UTC