With everything going on in our land
I call for you all my dear friend.
From plains to mountains, and from the arid sand
Time has come to hold our hand
And echo your love for all so grand
And let know how far it span
Let us show we love when we can
As in times like this, who knows when,
Again we get to cheer with a beer can.

“Inasmuch as you did it to one
of the least of these my brethren,
You did it to me,” proclaimed the Master.
Inasmuch as the body is one
Tuning out the least among us
Is an act of self sabotage.

The mystery of many members in one body
Precludes apathy- abominable ambivalence toward the elect.
The epidemic of savage inequalities in the church
is a glaring act of self-sabotage.

To truly thrive is to transcend temporal tendencies–
it’s measured in connection with the brethren.
To prosper alone is alien to the gospel.
In such a mundane state, shiftiness and perfidy abound.

In an age of narcissism where tokenism thrives,
The redeemed spin out of balance
by taking their cue from the world.

By minding the least of these,
and by shunning an unholy, self-absorbed trend,
We are spared the cataclysm foretold.
There’s comfort in the unity of the faithful
That other state is pure self-sabotage,
added to the drudgery of life.

We eat shawarma and we share da pizza
afterwards partying, never alone on dat gig
meet a *** just to bang her wit my homez
me salutin' to carlos, yep, it's like dat:

he be spending some time behind bars now
ain't no biggie, we rely on da boyz
neva had nuttin' but now we ******' top-modelz
as maxwell argued: "open your mouth, i'm gonna ***"

watch, how we double our profitz...
da hottest gang under da sun
once bonez said:" man, we be stars quite soon!"
and each memba represented his part

he told me: "sit down and write barz"
cause dem gangsterrappaz mostly be phony
we no lelleks, i got men behind me
187 street gang, sampler number four

The sweetest fragrance
What is it
Where is it
It is nothing
But the divine love
It is within us

This perfume of heavenly affection
Brings us closer every moment
The sensory aroma
Dwells in our beautiful hearts
Once we feel it with immense devotion
Surely we will find it with the speed of light

I don’t just bleed Red, I also bleed White and Blue.
Those star-spangled colors might not run
But I know that mine sure do;
Not only for me but for all my kin under the sun.

I also bleed when a hero dies defending liberty,
Cause I know that Hero didn’t flinch
In the face of adversity
But stood tall not giving an inch.

I also bleed with those left fatherless,
Who bleed from an open sore
Being soaked with scarletness
feeling like they’re at Death’s Door

I also bleed red
Just like my parents
Who ask whats going on inside my head
To which I reply with blandishments.

When will it end, the sorrow, the pain?
What will we lose and what will we gain?
When the guns have no bullets and the missiles no fuel,
When the bodies start to mass and the blood starts to pool.

What will they create, but chaos and war?
How could we win and who sets the score?
When friends become enemies and we lose Wisdom’s sight,
When the battle is over and both sides lost the fight.

When will it end, the anger, the hate?
When will we learn from our past mistakes?
Are we to be remembered as isolated and weak?
Cowering from the prejudiced differences we seek.

Where will they go, the forsaken and lost?
How will they live and what will it cost?
When the land becomes barren and all hope disappears,
When the love and ties of family are no longer revered.

When will it end, the sadness, the grief?
Who is the hero and who is the thief?
When they build a big wall and send more men to fight,
Taking more lives in the dead of the night.

Who will we blame when the tears come like rain?
Who will be responsible for humanity’s slain?
When the finger is pointed at leaders and their deeds,
Where justice has fallen to corruption and greed.

When will it end, the suffering, the hurt?
How many corpses shall we leave in the dirt?
When will we choose peace, when will we choose life?
Choose to shield each other from evil’s sharp knife.

Will it be worth it, the famine and death?
Will we know peace before our last breath?
When we cast out our brothers, both by arms and by blood,
Loyalty and honour, left in the mud.

If we end it with battle and fire and lead,
We’ll end it in disgrace, and we’ll end it dead.
If we end it with war and anguish and guns,
We’ll end it in terror for when judgement comes.

But.

If we end it with allies and fealty and trust,
We’ll end it with dignity and we’ll do what we must.
If we end it united, and make them understand,
Perhaps humanity’s salvation may yet be at hand.

Brother Iran
by Michael R. Burch

Brother Iran, I feel your pain.
I feel it as when the Turk fled Spain.
As the Jew fled, too, that constricting span,
I feel your pain, Brother Iran.

Brother Iran, I know you are noble!
I too fear Hiroshima and Chernobyl.
But though my heart shudders, I have a plan,
and I know you are noble, Brother Iran.

Brother Iran, I salute your Poets!
your Mathematicians!, all your great Wits!
O, come join the earth’s great Caravan.
We’ll include your Poets, Brother Iran.

Brother Iran, I love your Verse!
Come take my hand now, let’s rehearse
the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam.
For I love your Verse, Brother Iran.

Bother Iran, civilization’s Flower!
How high flew your towers in man’s early hours!
Let us build them yet higher, for that’s my plan,
civilization’s first flower, Brother Iran.

Published by MahMag (translated into Farsi by Mahnaz Badihian), Other Voices International, Thanal Online (India), Deviant Art, Portal Vapasin (Farsi). Keywords/Tags: Iran, Iranian, Farsi, Persia, Persian, brotherhood, culture, civilization, poetry, literature, poets, mathematicians, philosophers