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Azad Akkash Apr 2015
To Jody;
My five years old friend and nephew

I put down the telephone,
entering a nap of elation,
till the echo of your sweet utterance
On the back of expatriation's wind
Swims away, dims.
By then, medusas of melancholy with their thick sorrow
fill up my throat
and my heart
would blindfolded fall on the knees and
die down…

With good and bad big wolves
tracing lost children or stuffing shaking goat kids into their paunch.
With ravenous bears, malignant hyenas
and crude giants,
garrulous  gracious squirrels, laborious ants
and active voracious hares.
With them, the two of us
had upholstered the land and sky of the wonderland,
and with their voices and whoops all,
we had irritated the dreamland's walls.

No matter how many times
we were building the villages for stories of straw, furze sticks and bricks,
I would only visit your house of mattresses and pillows.

Only for you,
I did revived the dead wolf
in order to revenge the "predatory" lumberjack.
With no regret I kept sending "wolfy" to the roasted chicken's shop
to defeat the hunger,
So that he won't eat the trapped little girl.
And before your smile,
the wolf in walrus moustache would play with the girl till daddy comes and takes her home.

And you are …
popping out, never closing the wide eyes of yours,
waiting for grandpa to take us to the village.
Up from the houses' roofs,
with Qarmeetlak's1 rabbits,
beyond the barbwires and in secret,
we stick the tongues out to the Turkish barracks.
Along with goat kids,
in tracking smugglers' traces,
we fool the landmines,
sneak to the other side of the border.
With smiley faces and hidden bleats,
We ****** the poppies and the grass that grow out from the edges of spring and the craters.
We hide from smuggler's ghosts who
in the  labyrinths of landmines
because of the unclaimed hands and legs are grabbing the collars.
We taunt the jackals' yowling and the patrolmen.
And in front of the rumbling sky, we do our best to look prettier;
Isn't  it "God taking photos of us"?
And like coward puppies we flee and go back to the safe village,
just before the dusk's winds could carry our smell to the angry spirit of Salan2
who is scouring the Kurmanj's Mountain3,
pursuing his endless vengeances.

Till the break of day,
with your slim clever squirreliness,
out of the branches of the most interlocked sorrowful stories,
you were shaking the attached laughs and guffaws
on the  hair of the deceiver Ashrafieh and the grumpy Sheikh Maksood's4 night.
Eventually, in taking its revenge,
the night would stuff you in a small basket and throw you away into the waves of sleep and dream
accompanied with all that eager to see the giants' kingdom and the mice's storehouses,
squirrels' village, their dances and bridals,
the departure will lead you to the waterfalls' cliffs of a dreamy sparrow's new day.
With the beaming love out from our eyes,
you dry up your tousled feathers and
take into the open.

Nevertheless, how simple-hearted the lies were when I kept telling you:
"Dog is a dog, a wolf is a wolf and the kitty is a kitty, and what are we, my Jody?
We are humans!"

I didn't want you to know
how in the world, could a dozen of
rabid armed dogs
smash down the door
and out from your eleven months old eyes,
with a persistent thronged barking,
they did take your dad away to the deepest liars of the ranch of malevolence,
introducing him to all kinds of animality.

How might I explained to you
why in the world, they reduced 'dad' for you
to that thing which every month
from behind a doubled bars
keep sending you a tearful laugh?
Why did they minimized the ancient capital for you into
both of the Political Security Branch and Siednaya's Jail5?

Your fingers had just started taking to writing and drawing.
You had just started
cantering your own stories
along with unsaddled breezes' foals
when herds of jackals with dark mouths
deported 'your Azad' into a fool refuge.
Again,
they
made
you
an orphan.

Inside the brushwood of the story and the wilderness of the epic,
since neither your fingers have become able to rise the sign of victory correctly,
nor could your throat match the letters of 'Kurdistan' properly,
whatever cave you step in,
no matter how shiny is the globe in the witch's hands,
she would never be able to tell you,
these lacrimatory mist and clouds,
with the emerging of every spring,
from which valleys of the ranch of malevolence  
did they come to overflow the Kurdish neighborhoods.
How did they vilely with no permission go up to the third floor
in order to join you in a poisoned feverish soiree.
And since when
the creatures of darkness
that they had brought
have been grazing their hyenas
among our fresh hopes.


Hence…
when I tell you that
I'll come back with the snowfall,
it is nothing but a lie!
When you ask me to come back in summer
in order to hang on my back
and swim together
along with the little fishes,
such an imagination!
When you are not sleeping in my empty bed anymore
Intending to let my pillow and blanket await for
my return,
only a childish dream!!
Yet, when you
in the sweet and soft Afrini accent of yours
say to me
'Ozod, I mithed you thoo thoo thoo much',
my heart
would blindfolded fall on the knees and
die down…

Azad Ekkaş
Roni_alend@outlook.com
Erbil: 3-1-2011
1-The village that Jody's family decsends from. It is located on the very Syrian Turkish borders.
2-  A traditional hero of the region.
3- Kurds in Afrin district in the remote north western corner of Syria call their region the Kurmanj's Mountain
4- The two largest Kurdish neighborhoods in the Syrian city of Aleppo.
5- The largest political and militaty prison in Syria where Jody's father was imprisoned. It is located in namesake town near to the Damascus.
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Sam Temple Jun 2014
perfunctory actions
zombie habits
sheep normalcy
blindly following the cud chewers
lemmings fall to their deaths
slowly
genetically engineered crops
dusted with pharmaceutical poison
laced with irradiated petroleum pesticides
fed to the babies of the poor –
wealthy voyeurs eagerly tune-in
as the impoverished masses rot
for viewing pleasure
leisurely strolling across manicured lawns
those in power scoff at the growing spectacle
unaware that the cake is stale
and the masses smell blood –
hurriedly, accountants shuffle tax rates
mix those with interest credit
season it with mortgage fees
and serve it on wall street
place mats
taking stock of stock market gains
gamblers do double gainers off high rises
adding to the flesh being consumed by the under class
under classed –
underclassmen, underpaid, stretch under ware elastic
as waistlines expand with the debt ceiling
both symbolizing the slow decline of
the American dream
screaming into the sewer
fewer eyes look back as disease dulls the iris
loss of the inner shine
glowing reflection of living organisms
fading as the day
slips into the blue-black –
night falls on a nation of imbeciles
brain dead patients
broken by depression and weight-loss scams
hearts crying out for care
personal and compassionate
instead are met with sterile robotics
and sanitary “C” students dressed in white
fearful of lawsuits
and spiders
they prescribe to symptoms
without knowing insurance number 87319A23-S1
is a human being, just like them
also living in fear
of the same establishment –
Stuart Haigh  Aug 2015
Lost S1
Stuart Haigh Aug 2015
I thought we were suppose to love each other
Isn't that what it means when you say I love you to another
Love isn't something that ends or goes away
Love is suppose to stay through anything
I thought we would find each other in our next lives
But i cant even find you in this one
It's sad because i know your not worth it
But my love for you feels so perfect
It's very clear to me now tho
You never loved me
Those were just words for you to speak
We haven't talked in weeks
And you don't even turn a cheek
I don't want things to be how they were
I just want to speak to you
To hear your voice again
This is what true love is
When not talking to the other makes your skin
Crawl
Makes your heart
Fall
Makes you feel
Lost...
Sa Sa Ra  Nov 2012
CC'Sister's
Sa Sa Ra Nov 2012
CC'Sisters;
The long ones and some go by planets,
I say stars the long forever change or at least I have found what I need inside to be free to be in accordance with what is on its way for us all!!! Little Birdy, CC3 or more like CC13, we say more like debris in the asteroid belt or some unusual comet-ry and or trajectories for everybody know where the common planets go but what of Sun, know we where is but what it can be temperamental too and more than tenuous more like strenuous relationship it is and has become overly clear; the things I know are not strange but strange it would seem what and how I do; so for you CC S1 I'll kick around a few; 15 billion year old universe nah big bang uh hu nah no too more as in Relative, I love that one Relative that Spot <3 On with where all is at, all very Relative things, every point, perspective, every sort of strange stringy strummy touchy feely sorts of things; more like where we are coming from and where we're going and what we can view but um me I may have been on those Mountaintops and with God for those Godly Many Mansion-ed Birds Eyed Views In and Out but it's more like; Newton spot spot right on again with Great POP on TOP, and the Greatest thing about that our imperishable spirits and how they remain in motion when the brain turns off, and the better to use here now information JC spoke about, yes the essence of 'The Book of the Dead' for our truer here now lives with the better more abundantly already overly willing for us blood bearing calling ourselves living and the coming of 'Messiah' and how such will be as we emerge together as well, sounds so common sensical to better use here now than abuse Gods already given gifts than abuse in simple little ways of not quite knowing or to much aware of too much else of other our own makings, for we are too easily sleepwalking about the things so overly close to too close to our too commonality of homes, identities and consciousness such the smaller part of all of this <3 <3; so I kinda just love that more Newtonian Motion the Right; and then like hop hop, hop scotch hop, nope again 123 nor abc not required; I like scrambles on rocks too, sounds nice for a day and two and then here and there again, still Sinatra does get over due and the I can handle the rarely scotch on ice for others they say rocks either, I there with sweetness of love and kindness, smiles; so can I see for mile and miles, what can it be more than 15 billion light year miles ya ha sure trillions I am I do; CIA triple walls even you, we all run what goes on in there by our hearts in an instant we command the greatest show of all in any instant changes everything and  all at once; EMC squared does not compare; speed of light those kinds of things here we are more manifestly condensed sort of things like vapor is to seas and or maybe then iced; we all can sing beat on drums understand the octave thing, well how 'bout keep it human scale and for a heart like thing what travels at the speed of light and what here say is all so manifest and then as sound will travel so we can hear those Church Bells ring well quite simply then is by the octave scales just 40 ya got 40 Octaves down!!!...speed of light got a limit um well can we get back to Relative again....I sat there with those types and I was not so good at study habits and everyone knew it and wondered how does he do it; I do have a poem in draft honestly, I can share the title here; some friends of Lite Heart had to hit first of all to explain a bit about it, with the nick-name moniker of Spot <3!!! So I'm calling this one Spot <3 's Spectrum Disorders; for I can roll around those wheels; I can be and have been destroyed many times over for knowing too much of heaven this one anyway had ta' gotta roll too through it's all Holy to me so I too say Holy Hell and then say cats got nothing on me but a bit more fur and perhaps some competition with um da purring!!!! Buddha too did name his boy 'Ball and Chain' but we are overly done way beyond this, we 'um ready for holy easy joy and fun...Food for bodies and souls overly abundantly easily had by seeing just quite simply what is within without our inner and locale commands; nope we done wit da' dey's; why destroy or well don't let me freak ya' I mean ice All of Love that Holy Responsive Ever seems so Light and slight of breeze and too with there go with all the power day dreary than dearer; don't be fooled by terminology, typical associations; idealized notions, 'Like the woes of Solomon' and 'Thee precious' ' Lord of the Rings', those are so close to some Sacred Cross Metaphysically so to say, no more here today, just sayin' maybe more another day; but back to typical association and terminology, I'll drop a link right here now this day and copy page, poem ya Sa Sa Ra called Dearly Departed and I know you too as barely started, me too hahaha please don't count me out here is where I love to be and see; http://hellopoetry.com/poem/dearly-departed-1/ ;
One more time and time again start what you so already know we need believe, put all the rest reorder with more loving commands truly they already do what you ask anyway uh dig again here hear again;

Sweet coolness to what burns us up and warms with love perhaps just 299 million drums contact staffs hoola hoops love joy sing a ringing better bells we are dancing fun could be catchy and be the one!!
Food for body and soul the best of all is freely available everywhere and we are free to see and be it there 8 days a week;
Welcome to the Eighth of days I am already and I am too seeing you all 7 billion there!! ♥ ♥ :) :) R!!!

And I'm gonna wrap this up and call it CC'Sister's...oh verbatim, raw straight hop rocks scotch and scrambles just for POP on TOP and another honorable mention to the CC'Sisters; and Sinatra will play on beyond what they are still calling will be our possible forever but more like JC when he said Heaven and Earth will pass away but my words never, so play play!!! <3 <3 :) :) !!!R!!!
What ya'd thank 'dat I'd be kiddin' you nah you knew better but you may have had hope somehow still!!! hahhaha!! Ty CC1!!! <3<3 :) :) R
PS: CC1 Alright already I by now did put a bit more into the stew but see understand how this family grew!!!

~~Just my ordinary way of waking up and reacting to the first thing I see a little bit of a stir in me that helps me feel with every ordinary humanly thing I have so much reflection upon within some must be cast out or i can't live and breathe within my own being see...so here simply today was the help I had for the better part with my wake up cup whom are my family beyond all creation rocks waters wilds tree creatures great and small calling wooing ever be transcendent loving stewards of this place hereby we depend upon, seven billion all I see the ever present here now one generation family ever be; foremost first I see I know beauty first is all I understand all other detail too is telling the ever more love even more beyond a few castings of ever light spells or veils; I know thusly and nothing more or less~~ R

~this was what this poem was reaction to;

"Trusting God’s Timing
TODAY’S WORD from Joel and Victoria
In life, oftentimes we are waiting for something; waiting for a dream to come to pass, waiting to meet the right person, waiting for a problem to turn around. When things aren’t happening as fast as we would like, it’s easy to get frustrated. But you have to realize that the moment you prayed, God established a set time to bring the promise to pass.
God has a set time for your opportunity. There is a set time for that problem to turn around, a set time for your healing, your promotion, your breakthrough. It may be tomorrow, or next week, or five years from now. But when you understand the time has already been set, it takes all the pressure off. You won’t live worried, wondering when this is ever going to happen. You’ll relax and enjoy your life knowing that the promise has already been scheduled and your answer is on the way!
A PRAYER FOR TODAY
Father, I choose to trust in Your timing. I trust that You have my best in mind. I believe that You are working behind the scenes on my behalf. Thank You for ordering my steps and leading me in the life of blessing You have in store for me in Jesus’ name. Amen.

— Joel & Victoria Osteen"

~CC3 and or more like CC13, whom of her;

Oh but hell...
She made me
and so
I can laugh
today...
...with a heartfelt filling and of the many hands of love and clay!!! Sentient waterings for joy in dust at play!!!
The title is a bit short but in the spirit of Oh but what the hell...and not to hell or hell it is. Therefor as with a hand in my creation with the spirit of God also I was touched by the outstretched hands that remind me I am made to laugh in the darkness of fear and so I did just that simply touche!!!

http://hellopoetry.com/poem/oh-but-hell/
Sydney Victoria Sep 2012
Leave Me Alone,
I Don't Want To Play,
My Eyes Are Hard As Stone,
Because There So Many Things I Want To Say....

Dear S1
You Can Say It's All My Fault,
Which It Mostly Is,
But I'm Not The Only One To Blame,
Why Do You Look At My Crying Face,
And Look Away,
Looking For The One Who Made My Tears,
Fall Across My Face,
To Take Them Home,
To Drive Away,
But Drop Her Off Again,
To See Me The Next Day,
I Know,
You Love Both More Than Anything In The World,
But Let Me Tell You,
She Is No Perfect Girl,
You Digest Her Lies So Fast,
It's Like You Haven't Eaten For Days,
Just All Of You Leave Me Alone,
And I'll Be On My Way...

Dear S2
You Are Foul,
Wicked,
Twisted,
Stop Popping Into My Brain,
Stop Lingering In My Thoughts,
You've Already Caused Me Enough Pain,
I Hate You,
Because You Hate Me,
I Know Hate Is Indecent,
But I'm Slowly Embracing It,
Because You,
Are The Definition Of Evil....
Stop Prancing In My Dreams,
Stop Tresspassing In My Soul,
I Am Still Really Broken,
I Hope You Know,
But All I'm Asking You,
Is To Leave Me Alone

Dear S3
I Love Your Initals,
That Should Be Your Name,
Because That's All You Ever Say,
Your Real Name Is Poison,
Which Sits Upon My Tounge,
Honestly You Make Me Feel Degraded...
You Make Me Feel Unwanted,
The Way You Can Manipulate People,
Is A Real Gift,
Congradulations,
Well You Still Have The Upper Hand,
I Really Hope Someday,
You Can Just Leave Me Alone

*Am I Really The Only Thing You Have To Talk About? Am I Really Worth All Your Time? Maybe I'm Over Reacting, But I'm Sick Of You And This Is Why... I Might Not Be Perfect, But Niether Are You, So Stop Acting Like It, Your Words Are Making Me Blue, At First I Didn't Really Care, But Now I Do, And This Is What I Want To Say, Leave Me Alone And ***** You
Sorry For The Last Line, Im Not Usually A Rude Person, I Just Needed To Get It Off My Chest. I've Acted Nice, I've Acted Fine, But Now I Really Just Can't Hide Behind That Mask Anymore... (My Thanks List) Thank You SAK, LTR, PK, KO, CD, PF, BK, KS, And All The Rest Who've Stood Up For Me <3
Neo Dec 2017
Dear Mental
*******! I like who I am & what I do,
Songs I write & hearts I've moved.
Stop replacing good emotion
With regretted locomotions
Old decisions have made me
Worst mistakes have shaped me
& one night stands have tamed me...
Series of my Losing Battle against Intrusive Thoughts.
I should probably seek help...
Lawren  Apr 2019
Medicine
Lawren Apr 2019
Despite outward appearances,
we are the same inside.
My heart beats like yours.
S1, S2. lub dub lub dub.
My lungs expand and collapse as yours,
My eyes observe yours watching me
And we are one.

Our lives, separate but concurrent
Have hardened our skin,
And softened our hearts,
Weathered our faces,
And strengthened our resolve.

I, the carer by title,
and you, the receiver by name,
the roles are readily reversed.
I am healed by your trust
And you by my ken

For we are commensal parasites--
Each requiring the other to live
While we sit, vulnerable,
Ready for the taking.

In my white coat,
And your white gown
We meet, as humans
To heal.
JAM Mar 2016
RECORD: I LIV)E}D] ON THE MOON
FROGMAN: KWOON
RECORD: UNGODLY Froot
frogman: wax tailor

YOU'all are just like other people
We love to sting
sHe loves to trance
he admires b-e-a-utiful twoomen
Us're whoman
And most-times, twoo whomans

:Now I know my ABC'S
watch me confuse'em like the bourgeoisie:
-"but he pronounced it like Bilgemonkzees"-

( . . 3 . Oh dear, I hope you don't forget to feed me . .
  2 . "I am still learning,"
and I've Dear'd to Remember to Forget my Confusions . .

REFORM: WRITE FOR SELFSE

{B-E-A-Grateful no-s1: "Read DeadHeads to BEGIN,
                                     or Blue Tails to END"

-flips coin- }

}

1 . .

CONTINUE: DON'T FORGET
RECORD: curiosity's and imagination's
FROGMAN: selfse
program: INTROFLECTION,

I think "We've thunk it once before,
but it Bears repeating,
now"
LISTEN to us, all of you.

Que'Sera!

-caches Bit-

HA!    VV    !AH
        S A Y
      HAHAH

-Opens Mind-

"MY FROG... we're full of chars-"
- [May{jor(+/-)To}m] = E.ven-One
-- 1999-2001, a Race Ode-vent-you-See

[END OF LINE]

for those who may be hamyoung-us for the first time

{END OF MY RHiYMnE}

And Whu-may-n't be pondering what isn't going to clappin now.

(BEGIN TO /S/hEwE TiME)

It is of Coarse : Smoothing for the Mind, Body, and The Selfse of us all.

So,

SPEAK/ . 0\UP

|Whyever needs Bee? Wills Bee.|

Oh, you're di-vidend?

Oi've got these Two Mackszillery Tired Molaz, Whight.
whand day I was cwussin'a peace'a fwaery'dandy
and tay cwacked, whont down ta cagey'mentals.
now ta twooe woots is eckzpozed.
and i sding'em evewy dway

. . .-inserts troothpic-

jrus'tho da gwhothet OH's it's thrill'a jlive one up'teir
-- prole


/and the ghost speaks:

  ?_      
/\          
  /
The Letter-Ing: there are answers but can a whoa-man be logical
forty-yesican last end or new beginning
in a series of poems made of quotes
one part to a never-ending joke
its sum has yet to be totaled
may be more than its parts
subject to change
Lawrence Hall Dec 2016
The Beggar at Canterbury Gate

The beggar sits at Canterbury Gate,
Thin, pale, unshaven, sad.  His little dog
Sits patiently as a Benedictine
At Vespers, pondering eternity.
Not that rat terriers are permitted
To make solemn vows.  Still, the pup appears
To take his own vocation seriously,
As so few humans do.  For, after all,
Dogs demonstrate for us the duties of
Poverty, stability, obedience,
In choir, perhaps; among the garbage, yes,
So that perhaps we too might live aright.

The good dog’s human plays his tin whistle
Beneath usurper Henry’s1 offering-arch
For Kings, as beggars do, must drag their sins
And lay them before the Altar of God:
The beggar drinks and drugs and smokes, and so
His penance is to sit and suffer shame;
The King’s foul murders stain his honorable soul;
His penance is a stone-carved famous name
Our beggar, then, is a happier man,
Begging for bread at Canterbury Gate;
Tho’ stones are scripted not with his poor fame,
His little dog will plead his cause to God.

1Henry VII, who built the Cathedral Gate in 1517, long after the time of Henry II and St. Thomas Becket

— The End —