Scientists researching nature and man,
sing, Muse Kalliope, about arcane progress
of inventive magicians, wizards, druids,
philosophers, alchemists, and physicists,
bright curious people who study our world
and organize knowledge in holy books
to record wisdom gleaned by supple minds
as they experiment on sacred quest
to discover truth and invent better ways
we perform tasks to rule civilization
that programs actions of each crafting hand.
While Homeros once sang of manic rage
and versatile wiles, Hesiodos of gods,
Valmiki of loyal love, Vyasa of conflict,
Lucretius of atoms, Vergilius of arms,
Ovidius of bodies transforming shapes,
Ferdowsi of wisdom and civilization,
Dante of punishment and search for faith,
Chaucer of lust and fierce desire to live,
Ariosto of chaos, Tasso of order,
Camoens of discovery, Spenser of virtues,
Shakespeare of outrage at horror of death,
and Milton of paradise lost and found,
I, Surazeus, inspired by Muses sing
of philosophy, science, and inventions
when curious men and women observe nature
and seek to comprehend physical laws
that govern vital scheme of evolution
transforming matter of swirling universe
in galaxies, stars, planets, and conscious life.
Why are heroes in ancient tales poets sing
warriors who fight and **** in brutal wars,
biggest, strongest, meanest, and wiliest men
who wield weapons of death, and crown themselves
god-kings, then claim divine right to rule lands?
Ten thousand years men argued and fought wars,
joining groups lead by men who organize
gangs to battle for control over land,
following men with loyal obedience
who comprehend best how rich nature works,
and perceive future possible events
when they analyze situations well
and build strong forts for well-trained warriors
to occupy strategic points on hills
that guard close fresh-water rivers and lakes.
Warriors who founded dynasties of kings
play grand roles of power on martial stage
of history, killing tyrants and thieves,
and decree rules that foster common good
to stabilize smooth social interactions
between groups, manage prosperous production
of commercial enterprise on lush farms,
and support design of religious art
in songs and plays that relate noble deeds
of great hero who founded nation state.
Yet every great hero king, mortal man
who inhabits body of flesh and blood
like us, grows old, dies, and crumbles to dust,
and power of his personal authority
dissolves in wind that howls in empty halls,
and all his grand Ozymandian boasts
echo dumb over waste land of his works.
New generations rise who fight again,
arrayed and lead by power-hungry kings
to impose their world view on other groups,
and millions die in brutal fights for power
in endless cycles of destructive wars,
so fighters fail to provide secure way
that constructs stable secure social state
where all individuals prosper and thrive
pursuing personal dreams for happiness.
While warriors fought each other for power
and fame, to play gods on stage of history,
humble men and women, seeking solutions
to solve problems, discovered sacred laws
of nature, and expressed visions of life
to state concepts that explain how things work.
While mad warriors destroy to gain control,
wise philosophers and genius scientists
ask questions, conduct research, observe nature,
state hypotheses, conduct experiments,
analyze data, and develop theories
to describe how our universe operates,
created in process of cause and effect.
While warriors destroy, scientists create
better ways to comprehend and describe
complex universe that nourishes our souls,
so clever thinkers and builders through time,
who search for truth beyond outdated modes
of linguistic models, and build world views
that assist people struggling to survive
by providing accurate facts about life,
are true heroes who build civilization.
Nations base myths of their right to exist
on founding fathers, empires on bold kings
who ****, and religions on peaceful prophets
who teach social rules of moral behavior,
while science builds theories of observed facts
on exact research of philosophers
and scientists into true nature of things.
I sing of scientists, who observe nature
and develop clear theories to describe
how our universe works, rather than warriors
who fight and ****, because their honest work
constructs Temple of Truth secure on facts
which shelters us from storm of social chaos,
preserving peace inside strong garden walls.

i'm taking a class on persian poetry
i don't speak persian-
my taste in poetry has always been
more bukowski than rumi
a little too western, a little too crude

but then there's you
with poetry flowing
at the tips of your fingers
and the edges of your heart
you read poetry
as if it were the bible
making every word
sound holy and every
sentence more scripture
than art
and when you recite
it's like thunder
and ice
it's fire with
just enough passion
to burn for centuries

you're the hafiz
to my plath
and i never quite understood
your language but
i loved it any way
and i tried to speak
it but my words were
always
too western, too crude
and yours

yours like a burning candle
in the middle of winter
it's a small light
but enough to keep me warm
and the darker the night
the cooler the weather
the warmer the flame
that burns bright

you were my ferdowsi
and khyyam
and i was still somewhere
between woolf and
dickinson
their worlds made sense
to me more than
persian passions
that i always wanted
could almost taste
but never swallow
but you feasted

i'm taking a class on persian poetry
i don't speak persian-
*but it brings me one step
closer
to you.

‘It is not the pain, but the hope, that hurts‘,
I insisted, thinking I was wise;
as he plucked two twinkling stars from the sky
and placed them in my eyes

My head upon his shoulder lain
he carried me to my resting hour,
climbing the tresses of Ferdowsi’s Rudāba
he freed me from the imprisoning tower

‘We’ve seen each other’s scars‘, he said
our imperfections seem so perfect’
As I gaze into his fathomless eyes
my heart, in soothing undulation, swept

Carried away on an emerald ocean
within the cadence of my wanting,
‘the deeper you dive, the less violent the waves‘,
I immerse, the current no longer daunting

First buds break through winter’s frost
ushering the blessed re-birth of spring,
his kiss, a flame, melts the ice in my soul
re-awakening my heart to blossoming.