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I got your name
From wheats...
Getting your eyes
From poppy flowers and the sun...
My mother still sings
Over my head...
Over the threeyearold shirt...
Millions of stars and white almond blossoms,
Growing side by side in your black hair...
Oh eglantine flower!
Oh eglantine flower!
Oh my eglantine flower!
We were created from dust...
Why don't we flourish?!
The walnut tree smiled at us...
Bright,
The water is...
Bright,
The air is...
Knitting my heart
In the middle of the wind...
My heart is suspended
With her moving red scarf...
The walnut tree smiled again
It had dried out...
We cried together...
Two teardrops from me...
Two teardrops from walnut tree...
We cried together...
Two teardrops from me...
Two teardrops from walnut tree...
Oh eglantine flower!
Oh eglantine flower!
Oh my eglantine flower!
Knitting your dress
To play with white and fluffy clouds...
Dancing with rainbow...
Because I know
All the *****
Are fertilized in the
Same short moments of
Happiness...
I don't know about you...
But I will die one day,
With my young,
Lush,
And beautiful *******...
The olive branches grew old...
They wore beautiful clothes
On me...
Clothes that were not for me anymore...
They have changed the color of the sky...
The thousands balloons
Of mine...
The thousands balloons
Of yours...
The balloons,
Popping among thighs...
Until the children are born sad...
Oh eglantine flower!
Oh eglantine flower!
Oh my eglantine flower!
Comb your hair...
They have not been braided for a long time...
You were running...
Running to the end of the blue scarf...
They have taken your picture
You were a photo...
Oh my eyes...!
My feelings are left somewhere...
In the circle of big rops that I jumped...
Spotted hair in the sunlight...
I didn't hear our laughter
The clothes were soft...
My sister and I will not die?!
Can we play as long as we want?!
And hot August is Autumn for me...
The Autumn winds,
Blowing in my flesh...
The Autumn clouds,
Moving inside myself...
Keeping your childhood's memory...
Your drawing book...
Your green balloons...
Stars and your alphabet
In my womb...
The seeds of your
White jasmine flowers
Are blossoming from my *******...
And I'm pregnant with
All your eyes...
Oh the eyes of the
Wild chrysanthemum!
Oh the eyes of the
Wild chrysanthemum!
Even death will not be my freedom...


نامت را از گندم ها گرفته ام
چشم هایت را
از گل های شقایق و خورشید
هنوز مادرم بالای سرم
آواز می خواند
...بالای پیراهن سه سالگی
از لا به لای موهای سیاهت
میلیون ها شکوفه ی سفید بادام و ستاره شکفته اند
!گل نسترن
!گل نسترن
!ای گل نسترن
از خاک آفریده شدیم
گل چرا ندهیم!؟
...درخت گردو به ما خندید
...آب روشن است
...هوا روشن
قلبم، را بافتم
در میان باد
در تکان خوردن های روسری خواهرم
روسری اش سرخ بود
درخت گردو خندید
او را دیدم
خشک شده بود
...ما باهم گریه کردیم
دو قطره اشک از من
دو قطره اشک از درخت گردو
...ما باهم گریه کردیم
دو قطره اشک از من
دو قطره اشک از درخت گردو
!گل نسترن
!گل نسترن
!ای گل نسترن
پیراهن ات را بافته ام
تا ابرهای سفید و پنبه ای بازی کنی
با رنگین کمان برقصی
چون می دانم تمام تخمک ها
در میان همان لحظه های
کوتاهِ شادمانی
...بارور می شوند
تو را نمی دانم
اما من، یک روز
با سینه های جوان، شاداب
و زیبایم خواهم مرد
...شاخه های زیتون پیر می شوند
لباس های زیبا به تنم کرده اند
لباس هایی که برای خودم نبود
...رنگ آسمان را عوض کرده اند
هزار بادکنک تو
هزار بادکنک من
،بادکنک ها
میان ران های پا می ترکند
...بچه ها غمگین به دنیا می آیند
!گل نسترن
!گل نسترن
!ای گل نسترن
موهایت را شانه کن
خیلی وقت است که دیگر گیس نمی شوند
...تو می دویدی
در انتهای شالی آبی رنگ
تصویرت را ثبت کرده اند
...عکس بودی
...چشمانم
...احساس من جایی مانده است
...در دایره ی طناب های بزرگ که پریدم
...موهایی مقطع در نورِ خورشید
خنده هامان را نشنیدم
لباس ها لطیف بود
من و خواهرم می توانیم نمی ریم!؟
تا هروقت که دلمان خواست بازی کنیم!؟
...و مرداد گرم برای من پائیز است
در جسم من می وزد
...بادهای پائیز
در من حرکت می کنند
...ابرهای پائیز
در رَحِم خاطرات بچگی هایت را نگه می دارم
دفتر نقاشی و بادبادک های سبزت را
ستاره ها و حروف الفبایت را
،دانه ی گل یاست
...از نوک پستان هایم شکفته است
و تمام چشم هایت را باردارم
!آخ چشم های گل آهار
!آخ چشم های گل آهار
...حتی مرگ هم آزادی من نخواهد بود
 May 2021 annh
julius
group therapy
 May 2021 annh
julius
i love her like group therapy loves refreshments.
but sometimes i hate the way things unravel.
and the way we re-tangle after cutting colored strings.
is this really love if all my bones will break?

she said she feels strange sitting next to me,
as she traced the lines of my wrist tattoos and smiled.
it's hard to know where people are in all this air,
they could be nowhere, or dissolved within my skin.

i love her the way flowers bloom between my fingers.
the way i cry after the game and it's the ending screen.
i can't help pleading when i'm so used to the feeling.
is this really love if i come out covered in scars?
working on this for a while. not exactly what i wanted
 May 2021 annh
Leone Lamp
I'm busy busy busy
I'm late I'm late I'm late
I've got to meet a rabbit
I've got to meet my fate

For if you trip and stumble
And take a long long fall
You might take some comfort
In the writing on the wall

It says the cakes a lie!
The roses never were red!
Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!
The last words that they said

There's no time for fantasy
The world's out of hand
Visit Alice another time
Curse that wonderland

We're living in the matrix
Dot dash, dot dot dot dash
We just have to accept it
As we wait for it to crash

One foot in and one foot out
Abstractify, you lazy lout
Yes, I'm sure reality's an illusion
But I can't afford to live in confusion
Just peeping through the keyholes of the doors of perception.

Also, if anyone is curious, dot dash, dot dot dot dash is "AV" in morse code, which felt particularly appropriate.

~5/6/2021
 Apr 2021 annh
Carlo C Gomez
Ziegfield girls with Gatling guns
in complete synchronization,
decked out in Erté.
Watch your step, soldier,
for what's often considered foreplay.

Much like Peter and the Wolf,
one thing leads to another
on this daisy chain,
and as you know,
Burke's only jealous of Lorainne.

I'll tell you what,
dress warm for the ******* snowstorm,
and there'll be a place alongside
such an ingenue.
But what a terrible let down
it would be to find out
she was always smarter than you.
Erté (pronounced AIR TAY): Romain de Tirtoff's pseudonym; he was a 20th-century artist and designer in an array of fields, including fashion, jewellery, costume and set design for film, theatre, and opera.
 Apr 2021 annh
Sk Abdul Aziz
Whenever I feel like crying my heart out
Whenever I feel like screaming my lungs out
Whenever I feel like I'm burnt by the sun of life
Whenever I feel engulfed by flames of sadness
Whenever I feel depressed and low...
...the room in the corner of my home.. That's where I go...
That room is my refuge during my sad moments
The room has dark coloured walls
The room possesses a couple of dim lights
The room doesn't have anything much save for an old bookshelf which contains memories of my childhood
On the walls of the room are some hanging pictures of my childhood...
Those pictures look at me with affection..
...sometimes with a bit of concern
...perhaps they feel sympathetic towards my lonely heart
The room comforts me and takes me its in arms when I feel like I can't take the agonies of life no more..
The room with its eerie quiteness has a soothing effect on me
The room has a solid wooden door which is sometimes hard to pull open
But once it let's you in...it just takes you over with it's warmth and kindness
Whenever I feel like resting my head on a shoulder
Whenever I want to think clearly
That room always helps me out
The room in the corner of my home means so much to me....
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