An off duty cop
Walks into this
Bar
He has no badge
No uniform
He is no cop now
He's friends
With a young
Paramedic
Who drinks the
Guilt away
They stay till
Last call
And ask for some shots
To share with
The bartender
The cop wants to say
A few
Words
'To another life wasted
To another one shot
To another one dead
To another shot'
Then the paramedic
'To two good men gone
To blood on  my hands
To the lawyers health
To another day gone'
The bartender had
A few words to say
'To tomorrow night
To the many cabbies
To the few how choose safe
To another shot'
When they've drunk
Their fill
The two friends left
In the cab
Waiting out front
That got hit by
A drunk driver
Who they spent
Last call with
To another drink
**To another phone call

it's 1:57 am on a friday
night. needless to say im
the only soul awake in
the middle of the university.

twenty-six thousand people
walk right past where i am
sitting. every. day. the nurses
musicians, writers, and lawyers,
the drunks, art students, hippies
and boring people.

but right now, it is only myself
and the dead leaves. the cool wind
blowing around us. peaceful. silence.

the oddest thing?
                                                                          i'm only not lonely here.

Silver screen athletes
quitting soccer teams
to join homophobic friends
(redneck quasi outdoors-men)
who just want to **** animals

angst must be vented
lest it boil inside
and form a much darker concoction.

I beat the horse
'till I couldn't get it wrong
even then
the faceless desks of power
endorse eugenics,
pharmaceuticals,
and high profile lawyers  
sentencing me to a life's term
teaching Sophocles
to an uninterested fifteen year old
too busy stroking a Ritalin limp ****
to star censored ladies on Vegas stripper cards.

And he said "Watch your language"
when I said "What the ****?"

THE SINS of Kalamazoo are neither scarlet nor crimson.
  
The sins of Kalamazoo are a convict gray, a dishwater drab.
  
And the people who sin the sins of Kalamazoo are neither scarlet nor crimson.
  
They run to drabs and grays-and some of them sing they shall be washed whiter than snow-and some: We should worry.
  
Yes, Kalamazoo is a spot on the map
And the passenger trains stop there
And the factory smokestacks smoke
And the grocery stores are open Saturday nights
And the streets are free for citizens who vote
And inhabitants counted in the census.
Saturday night is the big night.
  Listen with your ears on a Saturday night in Kalamazoo
  And say to yourself: I hear America, I hear, what do I hear?
  
Main street there runs through the middle of the twon
And there is a ***** postoffice
And a ***** city hall
And a ***** railroad station
And the United States flag cries, cries the Stars and Stripes to the four winds on Lincoln's birthday and the Fourth of July.
  
Kalamazoo kisses a hand to something far off.
  
Kalamazoo calls to a long horizon, to a shivering silver angel, to a creeping mystic what-is-it.
  
"We're here because we're here," is the song of Kalamazoo.
  
"We don't know where we're going but we're on our way," are the words.
  
There are hound dogs of bronze on the public square, hound dogs looking far beyond the public square.
  
Sweethearts there in Kalamazoo
Go to the general delivery window of the postoffice
And speak their names and ask for letters
And ask again, "Are you sure there is nothing for me?
I wish you'd look again-there must be a letter for me."
  
And sweethearts go to the city hall
And tell their names and say,"We want a license."
And they go to an installment house and buy a bed on time and a clock
And the children grow up asking each other, "What can we do to **** time?"
They grow up and go to the railroad station and buy tickets for Texas, Pennsylvania, Alaska.
"Kalamazoo is all right," they say. "But I want to see the world."
And when they have looked the world over they come back saying it is all like Kalamazoo.
  
The trains come in from the east and hoot for the crossings,
And buzz away to the peach country and Chicago to the west
Or they come from the west and shoot on to the Battle Creek breakfast bazaars
And the speedbug heavens of Detroit.
  
"I hear America, I hear, what do I hear?"
Said a loafer lagging along on the sidewalks of Kalamazoo,
Lagging along and asking questions, reading signs.
  
Oh yes, there is a town named Kalamazoo,
A spot on the map where the trains hesitate.
I saw the sign of a five and ten cent store there
And the Standard Oil Company and the International Harvester
And a graveyard and a ball grounds
And a short order counter where a man can get a stack of wheats
And a pool hall where a rounder leered confidential like and said:
"Lookin' for a quiet game?"
  
The loafer lagged along and asked,
"Do you make guitars here?
Do you make boxes the singing wood winds ask to sleep in?
Do you rig up strings the singing wood winds sift over and sing low?"
The answer: "We manufacture musical instruments here."
  
Here I saw churches with steeples like hatpins,
Undertaking rooms with sample coffins in the show window
And signs everywhere satisfaction is guaranteed,
Shooting galleries where men **** imitation pigeons,
And there were doctors for the sick,
And lawyers for people waiting in jail,
And a dog catcher and a superintendent of streets,
And telephones, water-works, trolley cars,
And newspapers with a splatter of telegrams from sister cities of Kalamazoo the round world over.
  
And the loafer lagging along said:
Kalamazoo, you ain't in a class by yourself;
I seen you before in a lot of places.
If you are nuts America is nuts.
  And lagging along he said bitterly:
  Before I came to Kalamazoo I was silent.
  Now I am gabby, God help me, I am gabby.
  
Kalamazoo, both of us will do a fadeaway.
I will be carried out feet first
And time and the rain will chew you to dust
And the winds blow you away.
And an old, old mother will lay a green moss cover on my bones
And a green moss cover on the stones of your postoffice and city hall.
  
  Best of all
I have loved your kiddies playing run-sheep-run
And cutting their initials on the ball ground fence.
They knew every time I fooled them who was fooled and how.
  
  Best of all
I have loved the red gold smoke of your sunsets;
I have loved a moon with a ring around it
Floating over your public square;
I have loved the white dawn frost of early winter silver
And purple over your railroad tracks and lumber yards.
  
  The wishing heart of you I loved, Kalamazoo.
  I sang bye-lo, bye-lo to your dreams.
I sang bye-lo to your hopes and songs.
I wished to God there were hound dogs of bronze on your public square,
Hound dogs with bronze paws looking to a long horizon with a shivering silver angel, a creeping mystic what-is-it.

THE BALLOONS hang on wires in the Marigold Gardens.
They spot their yellow and gold, they juggle their blue and red, they float their faces on the face of the sky.
Balloon face eaters sit by hundreds reading the eat cards, asking, "What shall we eat?"-and the waiters, "Have you ordered?" they are sixty ballon faces sifting white over the tuxedoes.
Poets, lawyers, ad men, mason contractors, smartalecks discussing "educated *******," here they put ***** into their balloon faces.
Here sit the heavy balloon face women lifting crimson lobsters into their crimson faces, lobsters out of Sargossa sea bottoms.
Here sits a man cross-examining a woman, "Where were you last night? What do you do with all your money? Who's buying your shoes now, anyhow?"
So they sit eating whitefish, two balloon faces swept on God's night wind.
And all the time the balloon spots on the wires, a little mile of festoons, they play their own silence play of film yellow and film gold, bubble blue and bubble red.
The wind crosses the town, the wind from the west side comes to the banks of marigolds boxed in the Marigold Gardens.
Night moths fly and fix their feet in the leaves and eat and are seen by the eaters.
The jazz outfit sweats and the drums and the saxophones reach for the ears of the eaters.
The chorus brought from Broadway works at the fun and the slouch of their shoulders, the kick of their ankles, reach for the eyes of the eaters.
These girls from Kokomo and Peoria, these hungry girls, since they are paid-for, let us look on and listen, let us get their number.
  
Why do I go again to the balloons on the wires, something for nothing, kin women of the half-moon, dream women?
And the half-moon swinging on the wind crossing the town-these two, the half-moon and the wind-this will be about all, this will be about all.
  
Eaters, go to it; your mazuma pays for it all; it's a knockout, a classy knockout-and payday always comes.
The moths in the marigolds will do for me, the half-moon, the wishing wind and the little mile of balloon spots on wires-this will be about all, this will be about all.

I will tell my son not to do
Drugs obviously but ****
That's like priests telling child
**** peddlers it's not right to *** kids

So I'll have to resort to this:
"son please do as I say"
And not what I did and probably
Still do when grandpa for the day

Takes u away to play,
So I'll tell him things that made
Me a hypocrite so don't have ***
With girls u don't love and I'll say

Always use a ******, even though
It really takes away
From sensation like immigration
Deported it from the land of play

Never use the service of a ******
Even if she has 2 kids
And u think fukking her would help
Her feed em, cause that's just sick

But then Ill feel so guilty from my
Hypocritical ways
Like not going to church but sending
Him with his catholic school to pray

As echoes of my words that say
**** is no gateway to others
Are heard in my head but now I'll
Preach it so over protective I smother

And suffocate, and screen his dates
And call him on the phone
Until I'm that parent ur friends
Make fun of, never leaving him alone

Cause I can love myself but a clone
In my son I would hate
But if karmas real I maybe in
For a scary ride of parenthood...great

Cause as I think back I realize
That my parents would freak when they
found out about ****, which makes me think
of all they didnt know, and all I got away.....

With, and I start to flip, so I
Debate starting to hide some devices
All over my apartment and tap the
****** phone and no I don't like this

But it needs to be done,
after all He's my son
I had no ****** brain and I was
dangerous, imagine him, as a smarter one

I brought u in this world son!
So u better bet I can take u out
Now I'm saying **** I heard and said I'd
never say even though i Promised myself

I don't trust a mall Santa or his
****** ****** elf And mrs clause is a ****
Tell me the truth son! Is he ur drug
Supplier, I saw his knee under ur ****!!

Maybe I'm just paranoid plus he's
Not even one yrs old I'm trippin
But not so crazy if family guys baby is  
Accurate .....so maybe my kids a Stewie Griffin

Trying to **** his mom.....ha , ya! Good luck
I been trying for years
But can't get away wit nothin cause who you are
or were ****** .....is always prime suspect and here

Is where I try to convince myself
To just let the kid grow up, and make mistakes
The girl next store will be fine,
Let him learn on his own, not to go ****

cause its as wrong as that hyperboye was
Even if she was ...already a ***
All I want is to make sure he doesn't
Go down the same path i did, and that I know

That I'm lucky I walked through, and away from
Without dying before I had my lil dude
So Julian at 16 yrs old ima take my
Belt like old school people would do

And beat ur *** with it like it was
A million, trillion beatings in one
Then explain that it was for all the ****
U do and will do, and all that uve done

That u know u wernt suppose to do
but still did Without me knowing,
Then never say **** to him again and
pray while I support him, as hes growing

And get a pair of lawyers incase
My pair-a-noias actually apt
And maybe one day he won't hate me
For random drug tests for crack

******, ***, methamphetamines
And anything else
That feels good, as I religiously raid
His room, then end up doing the house

After finding nothing in ur room
Screaming........ where is it, where is it
I know ur up to something cause
u have my blood in u "explicit, explicit""

And ask him paranoid fuelled
Questions in anger, killing his joy
U missed ur period this month didn't u!
Don't lie to me!! .."dad ***?..I'm a boy?!!

Then embarrassed and frantic
I'll ask him If he's sure
Then hed say yes dad I promise,
I'll never be stupid as u were

...or at least I hope. Just please god
Dont let him suffer
For my mistakes. Guide him to diffrent
or I'll **** him&give; his name 2 his brother

Ok I'm just kidding, I want my
Kid to be living
I want him to be educated, successful
Well respected and giving

And Julian if u read this one
Day, I hope u know I worry
And maybe u don't understand right
Now but trust me u will when ur 30

plants evolved organic defense mechanisms
when being preyed upon
they send off organic frequencies
that attracts a predator to what preys on them
natives and indigenous humans
have and even more complex
organic defense mechanism
to hurt and torture sends signals
organic signals
evolved humans
so therefore slavery
although the intentions were white supremacy
attempting to subordinate and control
through fear and enforcement of whiteness
because whiteness exists from fear of being tortured
African who are native
indigenous
but also
native
doctors
lawyers
engineers
professors
families
warriors
forcing into slaves
shipping and importing into every space imaginable
of America
conception
thorough dispersion
****** and procreating
light skinned warriors
infiltrated every aspect
of predatory whiteness
and so without meaning to
accidentally
the organic defense of natives
indigenous
humans
those attempting it be predators
are overwhelmed by humans who are still
close to being native
indigenous
so whiteness
in denouncing
native
indigenous
evolution
denouncing blackness
denouncing womanhood
we all came from Africa
whiteness denouncing origins
creates a place that can no longer exist
having invited and imported its own demise
outsourcing its own existence and sustainability
what a terrible mistake
to torture such evolved
humans
who also have the freedom
to perform vengeance
in any way desired
without warning
private and public
invincible
impeccable
predators to the failure of whiteness
to consume humanity
into objects of indulgence
in order for whiteness to continue
it would have had to keep us in captivity
completely
thoroughly
but it couldn’t
it fails its attempt
because we are too powerful
and we charmed so many
of associates to whiteness
and competed with the fear of not being white
making it too dangerous
liable
to keep us in captivity
won them over
to being human
native evolved
evolution is destroying whiteness
through infiltration
conception
procreation
pseudo forgiveness
organization
impunity of whiteness
becomes its weakness
whiteness would have to declare
absolute martial law
and be completely uniform
about its intentions and meaning
to be its group
severely brutal and unforgiving
but it failed to maintain
this status quo
legally
socially
psychologically
institutionally
sexually

A ball player and a thief
Will likely be pregnant by age 16.
Lives in the ghetto and is poor,
Often identified as a *****.
Runs fast and does drugs,
Hangs around with gangsters and thugs.
Has a gun or a friend with one.
Speaks in slang, must be part of a gang.
Mess with her, she'll pull a Sharkeisha on you.

If you were to picture a person of any race,
That fits the description that just took place.
A baller and ****, hmm... what race matches that?
Yeah you're right, that person is probably black.
Is fast, does drugs, and speaks with slang?
Lemme guess, is he also in a gang?
A young mother who is also poor?
Bet she doesn't know who the dad is, what a *****.
All these negative stereotypes associated with being black.
Its disheartening, sicking and its really sad.
And whats sadder is that if you are the opposite of all of that,
You are often told that you're not really black.

Does your skin colour change for going to Harvard?
Will it change for speaking like an English scholar?
Because I play hockey and not ball, does that make me white?
So what if I'm the type of person to run away from a fight?

You don't have to be irresponsible and rude to be considered black.
It's your ethnic background that determines that.
And to some people, all we are is the complexion of our face.
Light, dark, somewhere in the middle, to some, the bad of a few defines
our whole race.

Does running away from a cop, and being black give someone grounds to shoot?
Why is it that my skin color is what is most important to you?
Is asking a question when getting arrested for no visible reason really resisting arrest?
Does struggling to break free from restraints to catch my breath, give someone a reason to grab on tighter to strangle me to death?
The actions of a few don't define the actions of a whole group.
And this assumption that all black are thugs, thieves and liars has done clear damage to,
Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Trayvon Martin and so many more.
They didn't know it, but just by being black, they put their lives at risk when they stepped out their door.

Don't you think it's gotten too far when we have to prove Black Lives Matter, or when we the saying of a movement is Hands Up, Don't Shoot.
Should people have to be reminded that blacks are real people and that our lives matter  too?

We are athletes and musicians.
Lawyers and physicians.
The leader of a nation.
An anchorman of a news station.

We don't all fit into that mold that is preset for us.
You can and should expect great things of us.

Because we don't have to be a ****, or a baller to be considered black.
We define what type of black person we are, we determine that.

The courtroom was buzzing,
Deals were struck,
Before Her Worship
Heard from the docket.

Will Luke be saved.

A line of roguish consorts
All on Legal Aid,
Paraded before Her,
In judical chains.

And the lawyers are asking
About The Game of Thrones.

There are too many cops,
All creased and shiny,
Carrying file folders,
Outling the crimes.

I was a spectator,
Small in my corner,
As Luke went to stand
Before his maker,
Before his deal breaker.

All charges dropped,
As if a matter of course;
Except for the charges
From the laswyer and court.

WARNING*:  *Horror...you might find this series offensive or distressing if you are not used to horror.
_________________­_


1)
I know
once I was just like you
I was young and furious too
the world was too much
everyone made you feel
so hopeless, you think you could ****
I know exactly
how you feel

Like the time
my parents kept on and on
about responsibility
I had to look after my things,
that made me mad

And then I decided
I must assure them
I would grow up to be responsible
make them feel confident
I must put them at ease
so I did

And the police asked me
if I knew where they'd gone
and I showed the cops my perplexity:
“They were always
responsible in everything -
how could they just go away
and leave me like this?”

The police and lawyers searched the house
and they found the will -
my parents had left everything to me
and had put my siblings
neat in order
stretched out on the dining table
in the basement kitchen

When you set out to make
an omelette, you have to break
an egg.  Now what
do you have?

A broken egg.

Unless you planned ahead
and caught it in a frying
pan.  There are other factors
at play as well.

Plans go awry.  Ask
Murphy.  It's the law.

Lawyers can't be trusted.
That's why they band
together, taking sides
like shirts and skins
in a pick-up game.
i don't like basketball.

Trust is tricky.  You
can always trust a liar.  
They always lie.  It
is what they do.  
They are junkies for
their own stories.

Stories are for humans.  
That's why dogs are
man's best friend.  Dogs
can't talk.

Humans think they are special
because they can talk, unlike
dogs.  We talk about thinking,
doing less so we can
talk about it more on
television.

Nancy Grace is running
reruns of the Natalie
Holloway case.  This is good,
it means all is right
with the world.  No other
girls have disappeared or
are presumed dead.  If
they are dead somewhere, they
live in our memories.

It isn't a circle of life,
it is a sphere of existence.  
Everything is specks of dust
floating inside a water
balloon.

And now i'm in your head.  
We are humans, and
the rent is low.

If you ask our NewsMax, America One fueled, republican congressmen
who won the last presidential election - they’ll pretend that they don’t know.
But hey, these are the guys, the “honest brokers” we can trust, to figure out UFOs.

These republicans disavow Trump’s clear treason. If they refuse to follow those clues,
like video captured by the guilty themselves - how can their UFO “hearings” fail to amuse?

It’s a shrewd political distraction, a republican red-herring, to put vague “aliens” in the news
just when Trump's lawyers are figuring out which prison facility he should choose.

In this circus of misinformation, we’re offered unproven decades of government collusion,
heck, we even have that RFK.jr nut insisting that the alien saucers are full of jews.

Of course, the aliens must be from distant galaxies - in their new breed of flying saucers -
why else would they be turning down so many lucrative showbiz offers?

Will it turn out that the cute, little, ET-guys are here conducting interstellar analysis?
Stay tuned. Have the aliens come to eat us - should we be frozen in fearful paralysis?
Or will our republican overlords, so busy removing our freedoms, decide it’s time to save us?

There’s no long proven, scientific fact that the newer, dumber, Republicans haven’t disputed,
maybe the UFOs were sent back from the future, their mission: study primitive human stupid.

I am what you’re alive for, and I’ll let you start over,
And over again, before the last chance you have is done.
My name is life; though it’s not always fun.
I live in your veins and breathe in your heart,
My name is passion, and I am very smart.
You were born to use me,
To live by me,
And to inhale and exhale me.
My name is love.
You can’t run away from passion, life, or love
But this might inspire you to bring out what’s underneath to above,
To let your inner Van Gogh out or maybe, just your soul.
Pleasing anything and everything but you,
They made it your ultimate life goal.
You may still think that’s exactly what you want.
Engineers, lawyers, doctors with crazy fonts.
But you come to think that maybe that’s not for everyone…
And for that, they all make fun.
But maybe, you’re good for something that doesn’t need you
To memorize formulas, letters, numbers, symbols alike, it’s true!
Maybe you, need to be memorizing shapes, lines, colours, and words that rhyme.
Despite the way no one else has your kind of flow, it isn’t a crime.
Don’t worry about judges or surgeons, with their fancy titles and big pay,
They have their own light, their own great ways.
If you’re better with a paintbrush, then stroke away, or splash, or stipple.
Anything to show them that art is not that simple.
Its takes courage to speak out what the world craves to be said,
If one doesn’t write books or poems, there’s nothing that will be left to be read,
And children rely on stories, it’s what keeps them innocent.
It also keeps the rest of us wide awake and vigilant.
So the world bursts at the seams,
With people aching to fulfill their vibrant dreams,
Of being the ones who can finally fly; oh so very high.
The world is bursting at the seams,
With people craving to feel the colours in ungrouped teams,
That pop and crackle and spark when touched.
Turn into stardust and glitter but in the hands, are tightly clutched.
But there might be a need of people,
Who love dandelions more than roses,
Who stand strong, even as every door closes.
Who play with ice rather than fire,
Who from their risk takings, would never retire.
And who rather they feel the softness of the sand
When the wind blows it around on the beach in their hands,
Than the blankets that they sleep on.
Who look to clean the chessboard of their enemy’s pawns.
But what we see is mainly what we hope to find,
And if we look at life with love we can find it to be amiable and kind,
One can achieve their goals if they let go of the headaches for a second.
Impossibilities should never be counted, thought of, or reckoned.
So breathe; you don’t have much left of your fast travelling time line.
Recite; you don’t have much air left but your voice is just so fine.
Write and your fingertips will never stop screaming,
Just like if you run, you will never stop beaming,
Never hitting the pavement with the steps of wraith.
And if you can feel... then you will always keep close faith.
You have not badly slipped, or played the wrong note.
Because even in the midst of beautiful gardens,
Weeds were never remote.
And then you walk through the streets of love.
Hand in hand with a culture fitting you like a glove,
As the smoke draws you in a feeling not unfit;
Feelings your heart clenches; at least you can hold it.
Some have lost this rare, valued treasure,
In the waters of functions and formulas, always measured.
So never swim with them if you are one to tight line,
At the end of your life you can say, “This life is mine.”
Always one to dream, never one to follow
Never let them tell you the mind is hollow
Always experiment, don’t be the child of a shadow.
And they put art at the lowest hierarchies,
Displacing the solution to locks on creativity.
Saying art is nothing but they don’t know where we’d be
Had shapes not evolved and paintbrushes never
Met paint and gave birth to an image you can see.
That you mixed and threw together, you’re clever,
No canvas should ever be empty,
Odd reasons say still… there are plenty.
And only an artist can solve that problem.
Breathing life into objects, one can make into an emblem.
So now what you do without math, science, or neither?
Yeah… I wouldn’t give up either.

I met a kid
in a bar.
I asked him
what's the score?
he laughed and said,
What game?
Life.

Graduating.
Having a little fun.
Then what? I ask.
Seminary.

Why the hell
would you do that?
Sorry padre.

I'm not Catholic.
My bad.

Going to be a missionary.
Spread The Word
to the heathens.

Whose Words?
I wondered.

I ordered another.
What's a preacher
doing in a bar?

Can't be a saint if you
don't live among the lepers.

I like this kid.
I ordered him another.

I was going to be a lawyer,
he said.
Then he got the Call.

Lawyers make more money,
I said.
It's not about the money,
he scoffed.

Amen, I said.

He's telling me
it's not about the money.

It's the women, then, right?

Hahaha. He was getting
a little red in the face.

Not the boys, right? You
said you weren't
Catholic.

Well, I've not found me
the right girl yet,
He said.
Lower your standards,
I said.

He thanked me
for the drinks
and the philosophy
and headed back to
a group of college kids.

I think there may be more
lawyers doing God's work
than preachers.

We're dreamers because we seek things we've never seen
Choose to push ourselves in directions of seemingly unattainable things
Always flyings hours away for things we could get right down the road
Because only with the changing scenary do we ever feel at home

As children our goals were never to be teachers or mommies
Instead we dreamt of dancing on broadway or touching the surface of the moon
With our heads in the clouds numbers of our peers
Continued to try to pull us down, and crash us into the dirt below their feet

But we stayed aloft in the air above their heads
Pushing our eyes into books, and our minds into places we'd never been
Dreaming of the days when we can free ourselves from being stuck
In the small towns we are born in, where the roads all seem to lead to the same places

If you're wondering who the dreamers around you are
Since we're approaching our final destination in this town, our senior year
You can find us finally at rest, at peace, stress levels seemingly at ease
With the knowledge that after this year we will finally be out of here

Us dreamers, we're the ones that have pushed ourselves beyond
Beyond what we thought we could do so we can get into our schools outside of this state, away from the fields that seem to surround us and the small resteraunts we've been to so many times that the waiters and waitress' know our names and what we like to eat

Whether we're flying away to the east coast for New York, the west coast
For LA, north, south or even to just a bordering state, we're the ones leaving
Going to places where no one knows our names because thats where we belong
In places where our identities are brand new, and we can start blank

Because in our minds as dreamers this town has never been enough for us
Some of us have stuck together like glue, but many of you never understood
So we were the backside of your jokes and the endurers of your pranks
Simply because we chose to push ourselves and not join in your childish games

We're dreamers because we see life outside of this town
Limits to where we will go and what we will be don't exist and never have
Joining family businesses or waiting tables will never be our career goals
Instead we will be the ones who visit town twice a year to see our families then leave

Jet off to our lives as broadway singers, astronauts, scientists and lawyers
Even as little kids we could set ourselves apart- when our teachers told us how these jobs were not realistic we told them it didn't matter
Because those were are dreams, and even as little kids we knew we were dreamers

And we would make our dreams could become a reality.

Scratches & scars you gave
me that lie beneath my skin
what you stole from me,
that young scared girl
of five, 8 years then I
let it go on, fighting between
sheets, drowning, muttering
about the shapes on the wall
to you
back aches & visits to the
hospitals in my head.
At eleven I was trapped,
while again and again it
happened
mummy at the store
mummy at work
mummy down the hall
cleaning the stove, the dishes
while you choked me with
the fear of family members
with eyes gouged out
to keep me yours.
At twelve I fought back,
told the woman scared shitless
of your skeleton while the people
in dusty suits & squeaky shoes stood
in empty rooms calling my mother
a liar.
At thirteen they decided to stuff
me in a room with you for over
an hour, twice, while women hungry
for my fear sat me in a soggy
blue chair seven feet from you,
they used big words that I had always known
to describe my symptoms
of 'a small, thirteen year old only
trying to please her mother'
while you crossed your legs, mannerisms
I adopted at eight fighting to break
through my facade, with hands folded
in your lap, and echoed the lies my
mama told me you had spat in court
to those hollow lawyers.
they all believed me a liar
and because I waited,
I could save no other.

I know
it’s like getting hit at 120
waking up a week later
with fractured ribs,
a cut in my skull,
a feeling of uselessness in my limbs,
and a chronic mental trauma
meanwhile
all you got are
****** bruises
caused by the airbag that at least
saved you despite that,
a dent in the quarter panel,
minor damage to the bumpers
and it’s all ******* covered
by an insurance company
the headlines will be filled with something
like reckless imprudence
resulting to physical injuries
but you won’t need your lawyers anymore
because I promise you I will take the blame
anyway

Yea i was born into a wicked world
Where all the boys n girls
Was caught up in a prejudice swirl
White to black to mexican to asian
They want us to hate each other
Thats why i take a blunt n im blazin'
Phasin'
Out all the *******
Im sendin' hell to those reigning
In the pulpits
Heavenly sent
But i see all the demons schemin'
Abortions clinics in ghetto double teamin'
Who will bare the cries of the little *****?
But im daydreamin'
Naw i stay in pain
try my hardst not to use the Lord name in vain
******* is apart of the game
homie pass me the flame
so i can torch you
naw **** that let me help you
but ya rather put a gat to my back
n see me die look me in myeye
im troubled man
passin' through times
arrested through petty crimes
now im dropping dimes
lawyers gettin' paid courts gettin' paid
n all i have is a little sunshine no shade
they cant fade me
Man child running wild
blast on ya know who?
Thats how?
I got my rep watch yo step as Iprep
For battle
Shake off the snakes
I gotta continue to rise
Str8 thuggin' til the day i diessss....


Stuck in a arrested development
The government
Still suckin us through embezzlement
Irs aint never been apart
From.the start
Just check the chart uh
KING George still gettin' money
Even though he dead
They switch alias to get yo bread
They call the feds
If ya make ya own paper
Through illegal capers
Inhale my vapors
Maybe u can a contact
Sharp as a tact keep my brain stacked
With powerful intellects
My mind rejects
******* so i gotta semi select
Uh in my mind soi can retain my fame
These days they hustle you man
No ****
Americas a culprit
Blame my crew for ******' up ****
Since 92 the riots
Made them white racist quiet
Now its a new day and age
Media say we violent
But we aint the ones bustin' guns
Good die young the rich old
Not much time before i fild
Im tryna bring **** back to the sixties
When our black males was holdin'
Down the community n unity
We amongst each other
Only killin' we did was on a *******
That wasnt down for our color
We used to honor our mothers
Nowadays these *******
Blow they cover
Tattoos weaves fake plastic breast
To *****
To videos hos n little shows
She be pregnant as ****
Say she independent but she reallyy a **
Uh lets change the game
And rearrange this ****
But u too stupid
Shakim' ya ***** meat
This is life of scorned souls
Runnin- the streetZzz yeaaa *****

people don't like truth,
or beauty, or breath;
they like depth
and context,
or rather the
comfortable despair
in lieu of a lack thereof.

We WOPs respect criminality,
Particularly when it’s organized,
Which explains why any of us
Concerned with the purity of our bloodline
Have such a difficult time
Navigating the river of respectability.
To wit: JOEY GALLO.
WEB-BIO: (According to Bob Dylan)
“Born in Red Hook, Brooklyn in the year of who knows when,
Opened up his eyes to the tune of accordion.”

    “Joey” Lyrics/Send "Joey" Ringtone to your Cell

Joseph Gallo was a celebrated New York City gangster,
A made member of the Profaci crime family,
Later known as the Colombo crime family,
Also known as "Joe the Blond."
That’s right, CRAZY JOE!
One time toward the end of a 10-year stretch,
At three different state prisons,
Including Attica Correctional Facility in Attica, New York,
Joey was interviewed in his prison cell
By a famous NY Daily News reporter named Joe McGinnis.
The first thing the reporter sees?
One complete wall of the cell is lined with books, a
Green leather bound wall of Harvard Classics.
After a few hours mainly listening to Joey
Wax eloquently about his life,
A narrative spiced up with elegant summaries,
Of classic Greek theory, Roman history,
Nietzsche and other 19th Century German philosophers,
McGinnis is completely blown away by Inmate Gallo,
Both Joey’s erudition and the power of his intellect,
The reporter asks a question right outta
The Discrete Charm of the Bourgeoisie:
“Mr. Gallo, I must say,
The power of your erudition and intellect
Is simply overwhelming.
You are a brilliant man.
You could have been anything,
Your heart or ambition desired:
A doctor, a lawyer, an architect . . .
Yet you became a criminal. Why?”

Joey Gallo: (turning his head sideways like Peter Falk or Vincent Donofrio, with a look on his face like Go Back to Nebraska, You ******* Momo!)
“Understand something, Sonny:
Those kids who grew up to be,
Doctors and lawyers and architects . . .
They couldn’t make it on the street.”

Gallo later initiated one of the bloodiest mob conflicts,
Since the 1931 Castellammare War,
And was murdered as a result of it,
While quietly enjoying,
A plate of linguini with clam sauce,
At a table, normally a serene table
At Umberto’s Clam House.
Italian Restaurant Little Italy - Umbertos Clam House (www.umbertosclamhouse.com) In Little Italy New York City 132 Mulberry Street, New York City | 212-431-7545.
Whose current manager --in response to all restaurant critics--
Has this to say:
*“They keep coming back, don’t they?
The joint is a holy shrine, for chrissakes!
I never claimed it was the food or the service.
Gimme a ******* break, you momo!
I should ask my paisan, Joe Pesci
To put your ******* head in a vise.”

There are two kinds of lives
Examined and unexamined
So we see two kinds of drives
One of grace the other famine

Two lives
Intertwined
In the line
We call time
In a bind
Of the blind
Versus kind

We needed an example
Of how to be nice
Though those were ample
We found Jesus Christ
To lead the way
Through the fray
Until the day
He was slain
And died for our sins
Because the bad guy wins

Now when
Holy men
Goal tend
We bend
To their end
As they send
Us to mend
A devil's den
That is of their apocryphal creation
Of which they deny any relation

There are no angels and demons
Only people who are the reason
For this devilish season
And those who are not
Are caught
In the empire crossfire
Until they retire

Floating through life peacefully
Treating everyone equally
The people at the steeple see
Ways to help through deep beliefs
But others pervert it
To divert it
And insert it
Into hateful ideology
That falls onto me
Ominously

The imposition of their will
Is how they get their fill
Becoming jaded predators
Not caring who must be killed
Our pain doesn't register
Once we're billed
Cash in till
Their heart goes still

Pain lingers
From bane stingers
Of shame singers
And grave bringers
Using slave fingers
As blame flingers

The righteous save brothers
The wicked blame others
The two became lovers
To hide pain under covers
Because the righteous
Want to be like Jesus
Once the wicked fight us
The righteous leave us
To turn the other cheek
Until we're up **** creek

Plenty of people act like Jesus unintentionally
And live life exceptionally
Others study religion fervently
Yet continue hurting me
This dichotomy
Is odd to me
Do we need God to see
A way to be?

The real dichotomy is net negatives versus net positives
Though we may never conceive
A measurement I still believe
This battle exists
Our actions persist
But the only judgement we'll receive
Is in the way we're perceived
Yet society's goals aren't the same as humanity's
I know it sounds like insanity
But we act counterintuitively
Like the lawyers suing me
So they can get theirs
While saying life isn't fair
Which may be true
But only because of them
So my frustration grew
Once I saw the problem's stem

I wanted to be a good person
But then I got headaches
And bad breaks
From high stake
Mistakes
Growing jaded
After society graded
My endeavors slated
As failures awaited
I became one of them
A broken gem
Can someone please save me
From remaining the same me?
Or will I spend my time
As part of the grime
Not reading the signs
Until the day I die?

Chapter Two

“I think of art, at its most significant, as a DEW line, a Distant Early Warning System that can always be relied on to tell the old culture what is beginning to happen to it.”                Marshall McLuhan  
  
I attended Bucknell University in Lewisburg, Pennsylvania because my father was incarcerated at the prison located in the same town.  My tuition subsidized to a large extent by G.I. Bill, still a significant means of financing an education for generations of emotionally wasted war veterans. “The United States Penitentiary (USP Lewisburg)” is a high-security federal prison for male inmates. An adjacent satellite prison camp houses minimum-security male offenders. My father was strictly high-security, convicted of various crimes against humanity, unindicted for sundry others. My father liked having me close by, someone on the outside he trusted, who also happened to be on his approved Visitor List. As instructed, I became his conduit for substances both illicit, like drugs, and the purely contraband, a variety of Italian cheeses, salamis, prepared baked casseroles of eggplant parmesan, cannoli, Baci chocolate from Perugia, in Tuscany, south of Florence, and numerous bottles of Italian wine, pungent aperitifs, Grappa, digestive stimulants and sweet liquors. I remained the good son until the day he died, the source of most of the mess I got myself into later on, and specifically the main caper at the heart of this story.

I must confess: my father scared the **** out of me.  Particularly during those years when he was not in jail, those years he spent at home, years coinciding roughly with my early adolescence.  These were my molding clay years, what the amateur psychologists write off with the term: “impressionable years hypothesis.” In his own twisted, grease-ball theory of child rearing, my father may have been applying the “guinea padrone hypothesis,” in his mind, nothing more certain would toughen me up for whatever he and/or Life had planned for me. Actually, his aspirations for me-given my peculiar pedigree--were non-existent as far as the family business went. He knew I’d never be either a Don or a Capo di Tutti Capi, or an Underboss or Sotto Capo.)  A Caporegime—mid-management to be sure, with as many as ten crews of soldiers reporting to him-- was also, for me, out of the question. Dad was a soldier in and of the Lucchese Family, strictly a blue-collar, knock-around kind of guy. But even soldier status—which would have meant no rise in Mafioso caste for him—was completely out of the question, never going to happen for me.

A little background: the Lucchese Family originated in the early 1920s with Gaetano “Tommy” Reina, born in 1889 in Corleone, Sicily. You know the town and its environs well. Fran Coppola did an above average job cinematizing the place in his Godfather films.  Coppola: I am a strict critic when it comes to my goombah, would-be French New Wave auteur Francis Ford Coppola.  Ever since “One From the Heart, 1982”--one of the biggest Hollywood box office flops & financial disasters of all time--he’s been a bit thin-skinned when it comes to criticism.  So, I like to zing him when I can. Actually, “One From the Heart” is worth seeing again, not just for Tom Waits soundtrack--the film’s one Academy Award nomination—but also Natasha Kinski’s ***: always Oscar-worthy in my book. My book? Interesting expression, and factually correct for once, given what you are reading right now.

Tommy Reina was the first Lucchese Capo di Tutti Capi, the first Boss of All the Bosses. By the 1930s the Luccheses pretty much controlled all criminal activity in the Bronx and East Harlem. And Reina begat Pinzolo who begat Gagliano who begat Tommy Three Finger Brown Lucchese (who I once believed, moonlighted as a knuckle ball relief pitcher for Yankees.)
Three Finger Brown gave the Lucchese Family its name. And Tommy begat Carmine Tramunti, who begat Anthony Tony Ducks Corallo. From there the succession gets a bit crazy. Tony Ducks, convicted of Rico charges, goes to prison, sentenced to life.  From behind bars he presides through a pair of candidates most deserving the title of boss: enter Vittorio Little Vic Amuso and Anthony Gaspipe Casso.  Although Little Vic becomes Boss after being nominated by Casso, it is Gaspipe really calling the shots, at least until he joins Little Vic behind bars.
Amuso-Casso begat Louis Louie Bagels Daidone, who begat the current official boss, Stephen Wonderboy Crea.  According to legend, Boss Crea got his nickname from Bernard Malamud’s The Natural, a certain part of his prodigious anatomy resembling the baseball bat hand-carved by Roy Hobbs. To me this sounds a bit too literary, given the family’s SRI Lexile/Reading Performance Scores, but who am I to mock my peoples’ lack of liberal arts education?

Begat begat Begato. (I goof on you, kind reader. Always liked the name Begato in the context of Bible-flavored genealogy. Mille grazie, King James.)

Lewisburg Penitentiary has many distinguished alumni: Whitey Bulger (1963-1965), Jimmy Hoffa (1967-1971) and John Gotti (1969-1972), for example.  And fictionally, you can add Paulie Cicero played by Paul Scorvino in Martin Scorsese’s Goodfellas, not to be confused with Paulie Walnuts Gualtieri played by Tony Sirico from the HBO TV series The Sopranos. Nor, do I refer to Paulie Gatto, the punk who ratted out Sonny Corleone in Coppola’s The Godfather, you know: “You won’t see Paulie no more,” according to fat Clemenza, played by the late Richard “Leave the gun, take my career” Castellano, who insisted to the end that he wasn’t bitter about his underwhelming post-Godfather film career. I know this for a fact from one of my cousins in the Gambino Family. I also know that the one thing the actor Castellano would never comment on was a rumor that he had connections to organized crime, specifically that he was a nephew to Paulie Castellano, the Gambino crime family boss who was assassinated in 1985, outside Midtown New York’s Sparks Steak House, an abrupt corporate takeover commissioned by John Teflon Don Gotti. But I’m really starting to digress here, although I am reminded of another interesting historical personage, namely Joseph Crazy Joe Gallo, who was also terminated “with extreme prejudice” while eating dinner at a restaurant.  Confused? And finally--not to be confused with Paul Muldoon, poetry gatekeeper at The New Yorker magazine, that Irish **** scumbag who consistently rejects publication of my work. About two years ago I started including the following comment in my on-line Contact Us, poetry submission:  “Hey Paulie, Eat a Bag of ****!”

This may come as a surprise, Gentle Reader, but I am a poet, not a Wise Guy.  For reasons to be explained, I never had access to the family business. I am also handicapped by the Liberal Arts education I received, infected by a deluge, a veritable Katrina ****** of classic literature.  That stuff in books rubs off after awhile, and I suppose it was inevitable. I couldn’t help evolving for the most part into a warm-blooded creature, unlike the reptiles and frogs I grew up with.

Again, I am a poet not a wise guy. And, first and foremost, I am a human being. Cold-blooded, I am not. I generate my own heat, which is the best definition I know for how a poet operates. But what the hell do I know? Paulie “Eat a Bag of ****” Muldoon doesn’t think much of my work. And he’s the ******* troll guarding the New Yorker’s poetry gate. Nevertheless, I’m a Poet, not a Wise Guy.  I repeat myself, I know, but it is important to establish this point right from the start of this narrative, because, if you don’t get that you’re never going to get my story.

Maybe the best way to explain my predicament—And I mean PREDICAMENT in the sense of George Santayana: "Life is not a spectacle or a feast; it is a predicament." (www.brainyquote.com), not to be confused with George’s son Carlos, the Mexican-American rock star: Oye Como Va, Babaloo!

www.youtube.com/watch?v...YouTube Dec 20, 2011 - Uploaded by a106kirk1, The Best of Santana. This song is owned by Santana and Columbia Records.

Maybe the best way for me to explain my predicament is with a poem, one of my early works, unpublished, of course, by Paulie “Eat a Bag of ****” Muldoon:

“CRAZY JOE REVISITED”  
        
by Benjamin Disraeli Sekaquaptewa-Buonaiuto

We WOPs respect criminality,
Particularly when it’s organized,
Which explains why any of us
Concerned with the purity of our bloodline
Have such a difficult time
Navigating the river of respectability.

To wit: JOEY GALLO.
WEB-BIO: (According to Bob Dylan)
“Born in Red Hook, Brooklyn in the year of who knows when,
Opened up his eyes to the tune of accordion.

“Joey” Lyrics/Send "Joey" Ringtone to your Cell
Joseph Gallo, AKA: "Joey the Blond."
He was a celebrated New York City gangster,
A made member of the Profaci crime family,
Later known as the Colombo crime family,

That’s right, CRAZY JOE!
One time toward the end of a 10-year stretch,
At three different state prisons,
Including Attica Correctional Facility in Attica, New York,
Joey was interviewed in his prison cell
By a famous NY Daily News reporter named Joe McGinnis.
The first thing the reporter sees?
One complete wall of the cell is lined with books, a
Green leather bound wall of Harvard Classics.
After a few hours mainly listening to Joey
Wax eloquently about his life,
A narrative spiced up with elegant summaries,
Of classic Greek theory, Roman history,
Nietzsche and other 19th Century German philosophers,
McGinnis is completely blown away by Inmate Gallo,
Both Joey’s erudition and the power of his intellect,
The reporter asks a question right outta
The Discrete Charm of the Bourgeoisie:
“Mr. Gallo, I must say,
The power of your erudition and intellect
Is simply overwhelming.
You are a brilliant man.
You could have been anything,
Your heart or ambition desired:
A doctor, a lawyer, an architect . . .
Yet you became a criminal. Why?”

Joey Gallo: (turning his head sideways like Peter Falk or Vincent Donofrio, with a look on his face like Go Back to Nebraska, You ******* Momo!)

“Understand something, Sonny:
Those kids who grew up to be,
Doctors and lawyers and architects . . .

They couldn’t make it on the street.”

Gallo later initiated one of the bloodiest mob conflicts,
Since the 1931 Castellammare War,
And was murdered as a result of it,
While quietly enjoying,
A plate of linguini with clam sauce,
At a table--normally a serene table--
At Umberto’s Clam House.

Italian Restaurant Little Italy - Umberto's Clam House (www.umbertosclamhouse.com)
In Little Italy New York City 132 Mulberry Street, New York City | 212-431-7545.

Whose current manager --in response to all restaurant critics--
Has this to say:
“They keep coming back, don’t they?
The joint is a holy shrine, for chrissakes!
I never claimed it was the food or the service.
Gimme a ******* break, you momo!
I should ask my paisan, Joe Pesci
To put your ******* head in a vise.”

(Again, Martin Scorsese getting it exactly right, This time in  . . . Casino (1995) - IMDb www.imdb.com/title/tt0112641/Internet Movie Database Rating: 8.2/10 - ‎241,478 votes Directed by Martin Scorsese. With Robert De Niro, Sharon Stone, Joe Pesci, James Woods. Greed, deception, money, power, and ****** occur between two  . . . Full Cast & Crew - ‎Trivia - ‎Awards - ‎(1995) - IMDb)

Given my lifelong, serious exposure to and interest in German philosophy, I subscribe to the same weltanschauung--pronounced: veltˌänˌSHouəNG—that governed Joey Gallo’s behavior.  My point and Mr. Gallo’s are exactly the same:  a man’s ability to make it on the street is the true measure of his worth.  This ethos was a prominent one in the Bronx where and when I grew up, where I came of age during the 1950s and 60s.  Italian organized crime was always an option, actually one of the preferred options--like playing for the Yankees or being a movie star—until, that is, reality set in.  And reality came in many forms. For 100% Italian kids it came in a moment of crystal adolescent clarity and self-evaluation:  Am I tough enough to make it on the street?  Am I ever going to be tough enough to make it on the street? Will I be eaten alive by more cunning, more violent predators on the street?

For me, the setting in of reality took an entirely different form.  I knew I had what it takes, i.e., the requisite ferocity for street life. I had it in spades, as they say. In fact, I’d been blessed with the gift of hyper-volatility—traced back to my great-grandfather, Pietro of the village of Moschiano, in the province of Avellino, in the region of Campania, Italia Sud. Having visited Moschiano in my early 20s and again in my late 50s, I know the place well. The village square sits “down in the holler,” like in West Virginia; the Apennine terrain, like the Appalachians, rugged and thick. Rugged and thick like the people, at least in part my people. And volatile, I am, gifted with a primitive disposition when it comes to what our good friend Abraham Maslow would call lower order needs. And please, don’t ask me to explain myself now; just keep reading, *******.  All your questions will be answered.

Great Grandfather Pietro once, at point blank range, blew a man’s head off with a lumpara, or sawed-off shotgun. It was during an argument over—get this--a penny’s worth of pumpkin seeds--one of many stories I never learned in childhood. He served 10 years in a Neapolitan penitentiary before being paroled and forced to immigrate to America.  The government of the relatively new nation--The Kingdom of Italy (1861)--came up with a unique eugenic solution for the hunger and misery down south, south of Rome, the long shin bone, ankle, foot, toes & kickball that are the remote regions of the Mezzogiorno, Southern Italy: Campania, Basilicata, Calabria, Puglia & Sicilia. Northern politicians asked themselves: how do we flush these skeevy southerners, these crooks and assassins down South, how do we flush the skifosos down the toilet—the flush toilet, a Roman invention, I report proudly and accept the gratitude on behalf of my people. Immigration to America: Fidel Castro did the same thing in the 1980s, hosing out his jails and mental hospitals with that Marielista boatlift/Emma Lazarus Remix: “Give us your tired and poor, your lunatics, thieves and murderers.” But I digress. I’ll give you my entire take on the history of Italy including Berlusconi and the “Bunga Bunga” parties with 14-year old Moroccan pole dancers . . . go ahead, skip ahead.

Yes, genetically speaking, I was sufficiently ferocious to make it on the street, and it took very little spark to light my fuse. Moreover, I’ve always been good at figuring out the angles--call it street smarts--also learned early in life. Likewise, for knowing the territory: The Bronx was my habitat. I was rapacious and predacious by nature, and if there was a loose buck out there, and legs to be broken, I knew where to go.
Yet, alas, despite all my natural talents & acquired skills, I remained persona-non-grata for the Lucchese Family. To my great misfortune, I fell into a category of human being largely shunned by Italian organized crime: Mestizo-Italiano, a diluted form of full strength 100% Italian blood. It’s one of those voodoo blood-brotherhood things practiced by Southern European, Mediterranean tribal people, only in part my people.  Growing up, my predicament was always tricky, always somewhat bizarre. Simply put: I was of a totally different tribe. Blame my exotic mother, a genuine Hopi Corn Maiden from Shungopavi, high up on Second Mesa of the Hopi Reservation, way out in northern Arizona. And if this is not sufficiently, ******* nuts enough for you, add to the child-rearing minestrone that she raised me Jewish in The Bronx.  I **** you not. I took my Bar Mitzvah Hebrew instruction from the infamous Rabbi Meir Kahane, that’s right, Meir “Crazy Rebbe” Kahane himself--pronounced kɑː'hɑːna--if you grok the phonetics.

In light of the previously addressed “impressionable years hypothesis,” I wrote a poem about my early years. It follows in the next chapter. It is an epic tale, a biographical magnum opus, a veritable creation myth, conceived one night several years ago while squatting in a sweat lodge, tripping on peyote. I

In- transit housekeeper with a-
beautiful name
Suspicious College Park subway-
people , waking replays
Telltale inhabitants , blustery November-
commuter stations , screaming trains
Lawyers carpool south , caretakers charge-
north in ***** rain
Kinetic Georgia peonage channeled-
through a "City too busy to Hate" ..

In small towns where nothing ever happens is where it all begins
Suburban neighborhoods and televisions in their adolescent bedrooms
**** on their internet  screens
Is where they were taught to love the sound of screams
When they were told to croshay they learned to tie knots
When we gave them a toy gun their mind's eye learned the perfect shot
Maybe when they were strung out on ***** they saw what we all really want
To not be alone in the front
They each had a curse
And the war made it worse
When they came back from hell their lives could never begin
Because they knew how lives end
Now they are lawyers, doctors, nurses, and crooks
But at night they take children, husbands and wives, and carve out and eat their insides

where ironically I had met two good people,
they like me got caught up in the desires
of too much too easily, turned white powder or green buds
into easy money, got ratted out by some bad dudes.

Time and space compressed into six by eight
and seconds so vast , made you question  god
sanity your preferences and friends. Made me dream of cigarettes.
Lit up then disappearing as I tried to take a puff.

forgot desires dreams tomorrow, it's the way
the condemned survive. Gave up the thoughts of revenge, tried to
stop the constant dread of closing eyes
seeing your two year old or wife crying.

made a way around the baddest cons, gotta face them
eye to eye or be their ***** forever, and the iron did not ever
take that from me. It stole my soul pride independence future
kids hope and religion, never made me ****, never could,
make me that.

I was told what to eat when to talk walk sit stand speak, yeah
like a dog, had my fill of thugs guards wardens parole boards
the rec room the basketball court the scene,
then came across two of the baddest dudes

quite like me who took their lumps, showed me how to
make great tacos out  of commissary crud, how to roll a
toilet paper cigarette , how to hide my shank and my pencils.

they told me of the dudes who caved in to the feds
and got off for turning them in. What they once had plans
to do to them. But got smart. So smart they became teachers preachers
jailhouse lawyers superfly calm and confident inside.

And I got out.
I had never fallen for the jailhouse Christian ****, the hail mary's said by the crack head murderers who thought JC might get them out. The child rapists, house invaders, lower than dogs, who promised, with
that emptiness of eye that they now were saved.******* weak hypocrites. ******* electric chair heros, crying I am sorry. Fry them.

It was Saturday night. They gave me a set of clothes and twenty bucks.
Pushed me out into the night, clutching a small piece of paper that held my two friends  names and jailhouse numbers on it. I had something.
I walked as far as fast as I could. No destination in mind, no course plotted, I walked up hill this time though. The hard way I had been taught.

I arrived at a fancy Cathedral in town at ten the next morning. Marveled at the well dressed people and fancy cars. Everything seemed
shining. Until I saw all the well- heeled turn around and gasp as
I sank wearily alone into the back pew.

I woke up with people washing my feet.
Now I gotta write Jimmy and Bubba in jail,
and profess, there is hope.
Tell them there is more than us three
good people on earth.

Lawyers crack down, with a thousand plus hours on studying criminal's-
The paradox of this study, half of the lawyer's and judges are criminal's-

‘Abá Cloak or mantle; a rough, coarse shirt.[1][2]
Ábádih
‘Abbás AR: عباس lion
‘Abdu’l-Bahá AR: عباس افندی Servant of Glory Title of ‘Abbás Effendi, the eldest son and successor of Bahá'u'lláh, meaning Servant of Bahá (Glory), i.e., Servant of Bahá'u'lláh. He preferred this title over others because it emphasized His servitude to Bahá'u'lláh.
‘Abdu’l-Hamid AR:  عبد الحميد servant of the All-Laudable
‘Abdu’l-Husayn AR:  عبد الحسين servant of Husayn
‘Abdu’lláh AR: عبد الله servant of God
Abhá AR: أبهى Most Glorious, All-Glorious A superlative form of the word Bahá’, "glory", or "glorious"; a form of the Greatest Name of God.
Abhá Beauty AR: جمال ابها A title of Bahá'u'lláh. See also Blessed Beauty.
Abhá Kingdom Most Glorious Kingdom The next stage of existence, or "the next world", i.e. the world of the afterlife.
Abjad system A numerological system, i.e. a system assigning a numerical value to letters, which creates a new layer of meaning in Scripture. For instance, the value of the word Bahá’ in the Abjad system is nine, lending that number a special significance.
Abu’l-Faḍl AR:  ابوالفضل father of virtue
‘Adasíyyih A village near the Jordan River where some early Baha'is lived, working as farmers at ‘Abdu’l-Bahá's request.
Adhan AR: أَذَان announcement[3] Also Azán. Muslim call to prayer.[2]
Ádhirbáyján FA: آذربایجان Also Azerbaijan. A region in northwestern Iran.[4]
Afnán AR: ﺍﻓﻨﺎﻥ twigs The maternal relatives of the Báb; used as a surname by their descendants.
Aghsán AR: ﺍﻏﺼﺎﻥ branches The male descendants of Bahá'u'lláh; has particular implications not only for the disposition of endowments but also for the succession of authority following the passing of Bahá’u’lláh and of his son ‘Abdu’l-Bahá.
A.H. After Hijirah. Date of Muḥammad’s migration from Mecca to Medina, and basis of Islamic chronology.[2]
‘Ahd
Aḥmad AR: أحمد to thank, to praise An Arabic given name from the same root as the name Muhammad.
Aḥsá’í AR: أحسائي from Ahsáʼ An Arabic demonym referring to a native of the Ahsáʼ region in eastern Saudi Arabia.
Ahváz FA: اهواز the Khuzi people A region in southwestern Iran.
‘Akká AR: عكّا A penal colony of the Ottoman Empire (now part of northern Israel) to which Bahá'u'lláh was banished by Sultan 'Abdu'l-'Aziz.
Akbar AR: اكبر great Great, or greater. See Alláh-u-Akbar, Ghusn-i-Akbar.[2]
‘Alá’ AR: علاء loftiness The nineteenth month of the Bahá’í calendar; the month of fasting.
Alí
Alláh-u-Abhá AR: الله أبهى God is Most Glorious A form of the Greatest Name of God. Commonly used as a greeting by Bahá'ís. Repeating Alláh-u-Abhá 95 times a day is a law binding on all Bahá'ís, as written by Bahá'u'lláh in the Kitáb-i-Aqdas.
Alláh-u-Akbar AR: ٱللَّٰهُ أَكْبَرُ God is Most Great
Alváh
Alváḥ-i-Saláṭín
Amatu'l-Bahá AR: امةالبهاء Maidservant of Glory Title of Rúhíyyih Khanum, the wife of Shoghi Effendi, meaning Maidservant of Bahá (Glory), i.e., Maidservant of Bahá'u'lláh.
Amín
Amír lord, prince, commander, governor[2] Also Ameer, Emir. The word originally signified a military commander, but very early came to be extended to anyone bearing rule.[5]
Amru’lláh
Anzalí
Áqá FA: آقا Sir, mister, master Also Aga, Agha. A dignitary or lord; used generally as a term of respect.[6] Title given by Bahá’u’lláh to ‘Abdu’l-Bahá (translated as "Master").[2]
Aqdas FA: اقدس‎ most holy Most Holy. Used in the title of the Kitáb-i-Aqdas.
‘Arabistán A former Arab Emirate that now forms part of the Iranian province of Khuzestan.
Aṣl-i-Kullu'l-Khayr AR: أﺻﻞ ﻛﻞ ﺍﻟﺨﻴﺮ words of wisdom A tablet of Bahá’u’lláh published in Tablets of Bahá’u’lláh.
Asmá’ AR: اسماء names The ninth month of the Bahá’í calendar.
‘Avájiq FA: آواجیق The westernmost city in Iran, located in the province of West Ádhirbáyján.
Ayádí
Áyah AR: آية verse, sign, miracle Also Ayat. A verse, esp. of the Qur'án.
Ayyám-i-Há AR:  ايام الهاء days of Há A period of four or five intercalary days in the Bahá’í calendar, celebrated by Bahá'ís as a Festival marked by charity, hospitality and rejoicing.
Azal
‘Aẓam AR: اعظم greatest[2] See Ghusn-i-‘Aẓam.
‘Aẓamat AR: عظمة grandeur The fourth month of the Bahá’í calendar.
‘Azíz
B
Term Source Meaning Definition
Báb, The AR: باب door, gate Title assumed by Mírzá ‘Alí-Muḥammad after the declaration of His Mission as the promised Qá'im (or Mihdí/Mahdi) in Shíráz in May 1844.[2] A Manifestation of God whose dispensation preceded that of Bahá'u'lláh, and who foretold His coming. Founder of the Bábí religion.
Bábí AR: بابی of the gate A follower of the Báb, or an adjective used in relating something or someone to the Bábí religion.
Bábí religion The religion established by the Báb.
Bábu'l-Báb AR: باب الباب gate of the gate Title of Mullá Ḥusayn-i-Bushru'i, the first person to profess belief in the Báb.
Baghdád AR: مدينة بغداد bestowed by God[7] Also Bagdad.[8] The capital city of Iraq, to which Bahá’u’lláh was exiled in 1853. He took up residence and lived there for the greater part of a decade. His House in the Karkh sector of the city is a site of pilgrimage, although it was destroyed in 2013; a garden in the city's Rusafa sector was the site of the events celebrated during Riḍván.
Bahá’ AR: أبهى glory, splendour The Greatest Name of God, meaning "glory", or "glorious". The first month of the Bahá’í calendar. Title by which Bahá’u’lláh (Mírzá Ḥusayn-‘Alí) is designated.[2]
Bahá’í AR: بهائی of glory A follower of Bahá'u'lláh, or an adjective used in relating something or someone to the Bahá’í Faith. It is important to note that "Bahá’í" is not a noun meaning the religion as a whole; i.e. "She is a member of the Bahá'í Faith" rather than "She is a member of Bahá'í".
Bahá’í Faith The religion established by Bahá'u'lláh.
Bahá'u'lláh AR: بهاء الله Glory of God The Founder of the Bahá'í Faith, the Manifestation of God for this age.
Bahíyyih Bahíyyih Khánum, “Greatest Holy Leaf” (born Fáṭimih Sulṭán, 1846–15 July 1932)
Bahjí AR: البهجة delight A site outside the city of ‘Akká where Bahá'u'lláh spent His final years, in the Mansion of Bahjí.
Bait al-Adl AR: بيت العدل House of Justice Also Baytu’l-’Adl. The House of Justice, an elected legislative institution ordained by Bahá'u'lláh.
Bait al-Adl al-Azam AR: بيت العدل الأعظم House of Justice Also Baytu’l-’Adl-i-A’ẓam. The Universal House of Justice, also referred to as the Supreme House of Justice, the elected institution that currently serves as the head of the Bahá'í Faith.
Balúchistán FA: بلوچستان Southwestern province of Pakistan
Bandar-‘Abbás FA: بندرعباس A port city and capital of Hurmúzgán Province on the southern Persian Gulf coast of Írán
Baqíyyatu’lláh Remnant of God Title applied both to the Báb and to Bahá’u’lláh.[2]
Bárfurúsh FA: بارفروش a town in Mázindarán, now known as Bábul (Babol)
Bayán AR: بیان‎ exposition, utterance, explanation Title given by the Báb to His Revelation, particularly to His Books, and especially to two of His major works: The Persian Bayán and the Arabic Bayán.[2]
Bayt AR: بيت house, building
Big Honorary title; lower title than Khán.[2]
Bírjand FA: بیرجند city in eastern Írán
Bishárát AR: ﺍﻟﻄﺮﺍﺯﺍﺕ good news, glad-tidings A tablet of Bahá’u’lláh published in Tablets of Bahá’u’lláh.
Bukhárá FA: بخارا city in Uzbekistan
Burújird FA: بروجرد Capital city of the province of Luristán, place of the governorship of Mírzá Buzurg
Búshihr FA: بوشهر Iranian city (once the primary port of Írán) and province on the Persian Gulf.
Búshrúyih FA: بشرويه a town in Khurásán, 55 km NE of Ṭabas and 70 km WSW of Tún. It is the birthplace of Mullá Ḥusayn, first disciple of the Báb.
C
Term Source Meaning Definition
Caravanserai FA: کاروانسرای caravan palace An inn for caravans, i.e. groups of traders, pilgrims or other travellers, engaged in long-distance travel.[2][9]
Chihár-Vádí FA: چهار وادی four valleys “Four Valleys” by Bahá’u’lláh. Addressed to Shaykh ‘Abdu’r-Raḥmán-i-Karkútí.
Chihríq FA: چهریق Fortress in Kurdish Ádhirbáyján, designated by the Báb as Jabal-i-Shadíd (the Grievous Mountain)
D
Term Source Meaning Definition
Dárúghih FA: داروغه high constable[2]
Darvísh FA: درویش seeking doors; beggar Also Dervish. A Muslim mystic, often a hermit or ascetic who wanders the land carrying a begging bowl (kashkúl). Equivalent to the Arabic faqír.[10]
Dawlih state, government[2] See Vakilu'd-Dawlih.
E
Term Source Meaning Definition
Effendi FA: افندي master A title of nobility.
F
Term Source Meaning Definition
Fárán Pers. small village in Ardistán
Farmán FA: فرمان order, command, royal decree[2] Also Firmán. An edict given by a sovereign, particularly for decrees, grants, passports, etc.[11]
Farrásh FA: فرش footman, lictor, attendant[2]
Farrásh-Báshí FA: فراش باشی The head farrásh.[2]
Fárs FA: فارس a southern province of Írán, from which the name Persia derives.
Farsakh FA: فرسخ Unit of measurement. Its length differs in different parts of the country according to the nature of the ground, the local interpretation of the term being the distance which a laden mule will walk in the hour, which varies from three to four miles. Arabicised from the old Persian “parsang,” and supposed to be derived from pieces of stone (sang) placed on the roadside.[2][12]
Fiḍál AR: فضال grace The fourth day of the week in the Bahá’í calendar, corresponding to Tuesday.
G
Term Source Meaning Definition
Ganjih FA: گنجه (Ganjeh) city (2nd largest) in Ádharbayján. It was named Elisabethpol in the Russian Empire period.
Ghuṣn-i-A‘ẓám FA: غصن اعظم Most Great or Greatest Branch, i.e. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá.
Ghuṣn-i-Akbar FA: غصن اکبر Greater Branch, i.e. Mírzá Muḥammad-‘Ali. Also The Chosen Branch, i.e. Shoghi Effendi.
Gílán FA: گیلان a northern province of Írán on the Caspian Sea.
H
Term Source Meaning Definition
Ḥadíth AR: حديث occurring, happening, taking place
Ḥájí AR: حاج Also Hajji, Hadji. A Muslim who has made the Hajj, i.e. pilgrimage.[2][13]
Ḥajj AR: حج setting out Also Hadj. The Muslim rite of pilgrimage to the holy city of Mecca.[13]
Hamadán FA: همدان Hamadán city in Írán, 144 km NE Kirmánsháh. Originally Ecbatana of the ancient Medes.
Ḥaydar-‘Alí AR: حيدر علي noted early Bahá’í, born into Shaykhí family of Iṣfahán. Known as the “Angel of Carmel”.
Haykal AR: هيكل temple; large building, edifice
Himmat-Ábád FA: همت اباد city in Raḍawí Khurásán Ústán Province, Írán
Howdah AR: هودج A litter carried by a camel, mule, horse, or elephant for travelling purposes.[2]
Ḥusayn AR: الحسين (diminutive form of Haṣan “Good”) Name of the third Imám, Ḥusayn.
Huvaydar village north of the city Ba‘qúba, which is 60 km NE of Baghdád
I
Term Source Meaning Definition
Ibráhím AR: إِبْرَاهِيْمُ A given name referring to Abraham, Patriarch of the people of Israel.
‘Idál AR: عدال justice The fifth day of the week in the Bahá’í calendar, corresponding to Wednesday.
Íl clan[2]
‘Ilm AR: علم knowledge The twelfth month of the Bahá’í calendar.
Imám AR: إمام leader A Muslim religious leader; specifically, the title of the twelve shí’ah successors of Muḥammad.[2]
Imám-Jum’ih FA: امام جمعه Friday leader The leading imám in a town or city; chief of the mullás, who recites the Friday prayer for the sovereign.[2]
Imám-Zádih FA: امامزاده The tomb or shrine of an imám; or, a descendant of an imám.[2]
Iqán AR: الإيقان certitude being sure, knowing for certain; certitude. Also refers to the book, the Kitáb-i-Íqán.
Irán FA: ایران Írán, the kingdom of Persia proper. Derives from the name Aryán ("of the Iranians"), the self-identifier used by ancient Iranian peoples.
‘Iráq-i-‘Ajam FA: عراقِ عجم Persian ‘Iráq. ‘Iráq between the 11th to 19th centuries consisted of two neighbouring regions: Arabic Iraq (‘Iráq-i ‘Arab) and Persian Iraq (‘Iráq-i ‘Ajam). Arabic Iraq = ancient Babylonia (now central-southern Iraq), and Persian Iraq = ancient Media (now central-western Iran). The two regions were separated by the Zagros Mountains.
Iṣfahán FA: اصفهان Persian city 340 km south of Ṭihrán.
‘Ishqábád FA: عشق آباد Ashkhabad/Ashgabat; capital of Turkmenistan, known as the “City of Love”. A strong Bahá'í community developed there in the time of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá.
Ishráqát AR: ﺍﻻﺷﺮﺍﻗﺎﺕ radiance; radiation, eradiation, emanation; illumination A tablet of Bahá’u’lláh published in Tablets of Bahá’u’lláh.
Ishtihárd a village 69 km SE of Qazvín and 54 km SW of Karaj
Islám AR: الاسلام submission, resignation, reconciliation (to the will of God in every age)
Ismá‘ílíyyih AR: الإسماعيلية Isma’ilism (Ismá‘ílí sect)—branch of Shí‘a Islám that followed the Imám succession through the eldest son.
Istarábád FA: أستاراباد See Astarábád: “City of Mules”, on south eastern Caspian Sea border of Írán. Since 1937 called Gúrgán (Gorgán).
Istijlál AR: استجلال majesty The sixth day of the week in the Bahá’í calendar, corresponding to Thursday.
Istiqlál AR: استقلال independence The seventh day of the week in the Bahá’í calendar, corresponding to Friday.
‘Izzat AR: عزة might The tenth month of the Bahá’í calendar.
J
Term Source Meaning Definition
Jalál AR: جلال glory The second month of the Bahá’í calendar. Also the first day of the Bahá'í week, corresponding to Saturday.
Jamál AR: جمال beauty The third month of the Bahá’í calendar. Also the second day of the Bahá'í week, corresponding to Sunday.
Jamál-i-Mubárak FA: جمال مبارک “The Blessed Beauty” Title used by some Bahá’ís for Bahá’u’lláh.
Jásb FA: جاسب rural district, Markazí Province, Írán
Jubbih AR: جبيه Also Jubba. A cloth cloak or upper coat.[2][12]
K
Term Source Meaning Definition
Ka‘bih AR: كَعْبَة cube Also Kaaba, Ka'ba, Kaabeh. An ancient shrine at Mecca; the most holy shrine of Islam, located at the center of Islam's most important mosque, the Masjid al-Haram.[2][14]
Kad-Khudá FA: کدخدا Chief of a ward or parish in a town; headman of a village.[2]
Kalantar FA: کلانتر mayor[2]
Kalím FA: کلیم one who discourses[2]
Kalimát AR: كلمات words The eighth month of the Bahá’í calendar.
Kalímát-i-Firdawsíyyih AR: ﺍﻟﻜﻠﻤﺎﺕ ﺍﻟﻔﺮﺩﻭﺳﻴﺔ words of paradise A tablet of Bahá’u’lláh published in Tablets of Bahá’u’lláh.
Kamál AR: كمال perfection The ninth month of the Bahá’í calendar. Also the third day of the Bahá'í week, corresponding to Monday.
Karand FA: کارند A village about 100 km SE of Ṭihrán.
Karbilá AR: كربلاء Also Karbala, Kerbela. A ****’ite holy city in ‘Iráq where the Imám Ḥusayn was murdered and buried, and where His Shrine is located.[15]
Karbilá’í AR: کربلایی A Muslim who has performed the pilgrimage to Karbilá.
Káshán FA: کاشان One of the oldest cities of Írán, located in north central Persia.[16]
Kawthar AR: ٱلكَوْثَر abundant, plentiful Name of a lake or river in Paradise that Muḥammad saw on his mystic night journey (Qur’án, surah 108).
Kázim AR: ٱلْكَاظِم “One who suppresses his passion or anger”. The title of the seventh Imám of the Shí‘ih.
Kirmán FA: کرمان capital city of Kirmán province, Írán
Kirmánsháh FA: کرمانشاه Province and city in western Írán.
Khán AR: خان caravanserai A roadside inn where travelers (caravaners) could rest and recover from their day's journey.[9]
Khán-i-'Avámid FA: خان آوامید The caravanserai in ‘Akká where Bahá'u'lláh used to receive guests, and later the site for a Bahá'í school.
Khanúm FA:  خانم lady, Madame, Mrs. An honorific title given to women of high social status.
Khurásán FA: خراسان sunrise; orient Province in the north-eastern part of Írán until 2004—replaced by North Khurásán, South Khurásán and Razavi (Raḍawí) Khurásán Provinces.
Khuy FA: خوی (Khoy) city in and the capital of Khoy County, West Azerbaijan Province, Írán
Kitáb AR: الكتاب book A book.
Kitáb-i-‘Ahd FA: کتاب عهدی Book of the Covenant Testament of Bahá’u’lláh, designated by Him as His “Most Great Tablet”
Kitáb-i-Aqdas FA: کتاب اقدس The Most Holy Book by Bahá’u’lláh, written in Arabic
Kitáb-i-Íqán FA: کتاب ایقان Book of Certitude by Bahá’u’lláh
Kull-i-Shay’ AR: كل شىء all things The 361-year supercycle of the Bahá’í calendar, which consists of 19 Váḥids.
Kurdistán FA: کوردستان Greater Kurdistan, a roughly defined geo-cultural historical region wherein the Kurdish people form a prominent majority population and Kurdish culture, languages and national identity have historically been based.
L
Term Source Meaning Definition
Láhíján FA: لاهیجان Caspian sea resort in and the capital of Láhíján County
Lár FA: لار city in province of Fárs
Lawḥ AR: ﻟﻮﺡ board, blackboard
Luristán FA: لرستان a province and an area in western Írán in the Zagros Mountains
M
Term Source Meaning Definition
Maḥbúbu’sh-Shuhadá’ AR­: محبوب الشهداء Beloved of Martyrs Mírzá Muḥammad-Ḥusayn. Brother of Mírzá Muḥammad-Ḥasan, both from Iṣfahán.
Maḥmúd AR: محمود praised, commendable, laudable, praiseworthy A common Arabic name; a form of the name Muḥammad.
Mákú FA: ماکو a city in the West Azerbaijan Province, Írán
Maláyir FA: ملایر city SSE of Ḥamdán, Írán
Maqám FA: مقام site, location
Marághih FA: مراغه city 75 km south of Tabriz, Ádhirbáyján
Marḥabá AR: مرحبا welcome, well done A customary expression of greeting or welcome.
Masá’il AR: مسائل questions The fifteenth month of the Bahá’í calendar.
Mashhad FA: مشهد‎ place of assembly place where a martyr or hero died; religious shrine venerated by the people, especially the tomb of a saint
Mashíyyat AR: مشية will The eleventh month of the Bahá’í calendar.
Mashriqu’l-Adhkár AR: مشرق اﻻذكار Dawning-place of the praises, prayers, remembrances or mentions of God Title for a purpose-built Bahá’í House of Worship.
Mázindarán FA: مازندران A province in northern Írán, on the Caspian Sea. Ancient stronghold of the Parthian and Sassanian Empires, and the ancestral home of Bahá’u’lláh.
Merv FA: مرو‎ Also: Marv. Ancient city located on the Silk Road near the modern-day city of Mary, Turkmenistan.
Mihdí AR: ٱلْمَهْدِيّ‎ One who guides aright, the Guided One. A title of the Twelfth (expected) Imám or Qá’im. Mírzá Mihdí (“The Purest Branch”)
Mílán FA: میلان A village 23 km SW Tabríz, in Ádhirbáyján.
Mírzá FA: میرزا of noble lineage Derived from amírzádeh, meaning child of the Amír or child of the ruler. A term of respect which generally indicates a literate person. When used at the end of a name, it denotes a prince.[17]
Mishkín-Qalam FA: مشكین قلم One of the nineteen Apostles of Bahá'u'lláh, and famous calligrapher of 19th century Persia.
Mithqal AR: مثقال‎ Also Miskal. A unit of weight commonly used in Persia.[12]
Muḥammad AR: مُحَمَّد praised, commendable, laudable Also Mohammed. A common Arabic name, referring to the Prophet of Islam.
Muḥammarih Former name of Persian city Khurramshahr
Mujtahid AR: مُجْتَهِد‎ one who strives or one who exerts himself A mujtahid in contemporary Írán is now called an áyatu’lláh.
Mulk AR: ملك dominion The eighteenth month of the Bahá’í calendar.
Mullá FA: ملا A member of the Muslim clergy.
Munírih FA: منیره luminous, radiant Munírih Khánum, wife of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá (mid 1848–28 April 1938)
Mustagháth AR: مستغث the one called upon for help Used as the name of God by the Báb.
N
Term Source Meaning Definition
Nabíl
Najaf
Najaf-Ábá­d FA: نجف‌آباد A city in Iran's Isfahan Province.
Náqiḍín opposers, violators Covenant-breakers.
Násiri'd-Dín FA: ناصرالدین شاه Protector/Defender of the Faith
Naw-Rúz FA: نوروز new day The new year of the Bahá’í calendar, falling on the day of the spring equinox, i.e. the day on which the sun enters the constellation of Aries as viewed from Tehran.
Nayríz FA: نی‌ریز‎ A city in Iran's Fars Province, southeast of Shíráz, and the site of a major struggle between Bábís and authorities under the Qajar dynasty.
Níshábúr FA: نیشابور A city in northeastern Iran's Razavi Khorasan province, and former capital of Khorasan Province.
Núr AR: نور light The fifth month of the Bahá’í calendar. Also
P
Term Source Meaning Definition
Pahlaví, Pahlawí belonging to a city; a citizen
Q
Term Source Meaning Definition
Qádí AR: قادی judge A civil, criminal, or ecclesiastical judge.[2]
Qádíyán AR: قادیان City in Punjab, India. The birthplace of Mirza Ghulam Ahmad, founder of the Ahmadiyya sect of Islam.
Qá’im FA: قائم He Who shall arise Title designating the Promised One of Islám.[2]
Qalyán FA: قالیان hookah A pipe for smoking through water.[2]
Qamṣar village 25 km south of Káshán, Írán
Qawl AR: قول speech The fourteenth month of the Bahá’í calendar.
Qayyúm permanent, lasting, stable Superlative of Qá’im [the Báb], the Most Great One Who will arise [Bahá’u’lláh]
Qayyúmu'l-Asmá The Báb's commentary on the Qur'an's Surih of Joseph, characterized by Bahá'u'lláh as "the first, the greatest, and mightiest of all books" in the Bábí Dispensation.
Qazvín a city 140 km NW of Ṭihrán.
Qiblih AR: قبلة Also Qibla, Qiblah. The direction to which people turn in prayer; especially Mecca, the Qiblih of all Muslims.[2][18]
Qúchán city and capital of Qúchán County
Quddús The Most Holy
Qudrat AR: قدرة power The thirteenth month of the Bahá’í calendar.
Qum holy city 130 km SSW of Ṭihrán, location of the Shrine of Ma’ṣúmih, the sister of Imám Riṣá, the eighth Imám
Qur’án AR: الۡقُرۡآنۡ recitation, reading, the word
Qurbán AR: قربان sacrifice[2]
Qurratu'l-ʿAyn A title of Táhirih, meaning Solace of the Eyes.
R
Term Source Meaning Definition
Rafsinján city and council in Kirmán province, Írán
Rahím merciful, compassionate one of the names (ar-Raḥím) of God
Raḥmán merciful, compassionate (God)
Raḥmat AR: رحمة mercy The sixth month of the Bahá’í calendar.
Rasht city in province of Gílán
Rawḥání good, agreeable, clean and pure (place)
Riḍván AR: رضوان paradise The "King of Festivals" of the Bahá’í Faith, commemorating Bahá'u'lláh's 1863 declaration that He was a Manifestation of God, in the Garden of Ridván outside Baghdad. Also used literally in other contexts, to mean "paradise".
Rúḥu’lláh Spirit of God A designation Muslims use for Jesus. Son of Mírzá ‘Alí-Muḥammad-i-Varqá
S
Term Source Meaning Definition
Sabzivár F­A: سبزوار city in Khurásán Province
Sadratu’l-Muntahá AR: سِدْرَة ٱلْمُنْتَهَىٰ‎ Lote Tree of the Farthest Boundary Symbolically, the Lote tree in the Seventh Heaven; the utmost extremity, a boundary which no one can pass.
Ṣáḥibu’z-Zamán FA: صاحب زمان Lord of the Age One of the titles of the promised Qá’im.[2]
Sárí FA: ساری A town in eastern Mázindarán province. (GPB p. 40)
Sháh FA: شاه king, emperor, sovereign, monarch, prince A title given to the emperors and kings of Persia and other societies under Persian influence.
Sháhansháh FA: شاهنشاه‎ king of kings The full title of Persian emperors since the Achaemenid dynasty.
Shahíd AR: شهيد martyr Singular form.[2]
Shahmirzád FA: شهميرزاد‎ A town in the province of Semnan, 170 km east of Ṭihrán, Írán.
Sháhrúd FA: شاهرود a mighty river; name of a river Name of a crossroad city 330 km NE of Teheran. Also: a type of lute (musical instrument); the thickest cord of a musical instrument.
Sharaf AR: شرف honour The sixteenth month of the Bahá’í calendar.
Shaykh AR: شیخ A learned man; generally used for elders, chiefs, professors, or heads of dervish orders.
Shaykhu’l-Islám AR: شيخ الإسلام Head of a religious court, appointed to every large city by the king or ruler.[2]
Shí’ih AR: شِيعَة‎ followers, i.e. of Ali Of or relating to Shia/****'ih Islam, the second largest branch of Islam.
Shíráz FA: شیراز‎ The capital of Fars province, Iran; birthplace of the Báb, and the site of His Declaration.
Shuhada AR: الشهداء martyrs Plural form.[2]
Shushtar
Simnán FA: سمنان‎ A province in northern Iran.
Sísán FA: سیسان Seysan, Sisan-e Qadim. A village in Eastern Ádhirbáyján province, Iran.
Sístán FA: سیستان‎ land of the Saka A historical and geographical region in eastern Iran and Southern Afghanistan; known in ancient times as Sakastan.
Síyáh-Chál FA: سیاه چال‎ black pit The dungeon south east of the palace of the Sháh and near the Sabzih-Maydán in Tehran in which Bahá'u'lláh was incarcerated for some months in 1852. It was originally built as a reservoir, storing water for the public baths nearby. In the Persian language, "Síyáh-chál" (Persian: سیاه چال, literally "black pit") is the common name for a dungeon.
Siyyid AR: سيد‎ A descendant of the Prophet Muhammad.[2]
Súfí AR: ٱلصُّوفِيَّة‎ one who wears wool Of, or relating to the mystical practice of Islam.
Sulaymán AR: سُليمان Solomon An Arabic given name referring to Solomon, King of Israel and son of King David.
Sulaymániyyih AR: السليمانية‎ A town in Kurdish Iraq. Bahá’u’lláh resided as a dervish in the mountains surrounding the town from 1854 to 1856.
Sulṭán AR: سلطان sovereignty The seventeenth month of the Bahá’í calendar.
Sulṭán-Ábád
Sulṭánu’sh-Shuhadá’ AR: سلطان الشهداء King of Martyrs A title given to Mírzá Muḥammad-Ḥasan of Isfahan.
Sunní AR: أهل السنة people of the sunnah, i.e. majority tradition Of or relating to Sunni Islam, the largest branch of Islam.
Súrih AR: سورة tablet, chapter Also: Surah, Súriy. A tablet, or letter. The chapters of the Qur'an are known as súrihs or surahs.[2]
Súriy-i-Ghuṣn AR: سورة الهيكل Tablet of the Branch Also: Súratu’l-Ghuṣn. A tablet of Bahá’u’lláh in which He confirms a high station for ‘Abdu’l-Bahá.
Súriy-i-Haykal AR: سورة الهيكل Tablet of the Temple Also: Súratu’l-Haykal. A tablet of Bahá’u’lláh published in Summons of the Lord of Hosts, which includes his messages addressed to five world leaders: Pope Pius IX, Napoleon III, Czar Alexander II, Queen Victoria, and Násiri'd-Dín Sháh.
Súriy-i-Mulúk AR: سورة الملوك Tablet of the Kings Also: Súratu’l-Mulúk. A tablet of Bahá’u’lláh published in Summons of the Lord of Hosts, addressed collectively to the monarchs of the East and the West.
Súriy-i-Ra'ís AR: سورة الرئيس Tablet of the Chief Also: Súratu’l-Ra'ís. A tablet of Bahá’u’lláh published in Summons of the Lord of Hosts, addressed to ‘Alí Páshá, the Ottoman Prime Minister.
T
Term Source Meaning Definition
Tabríz FA: تبریز flowing hot capital of Ádharbayján Province, Írán.
Ṭáhirih FA: طاهره‎ clean, pure; chaste, modest, virtuous The pure one
Tajallíyát AR: ﺍﻟﺘﺠﻠﻴﺎﺕ lustre, brightness, brilliancy, effulgence A tablet of Bahá’u’lláh published in Tablets of Bahá’u’lláh.
Tákur FA: تاكور village 40 km south of Núr and 47.5 km NE of Afjihin. It is Bahá’u’lláh’s ancestral home.
Ṭarázát AR: ﺍﻟﻄﺮﺍﺯﺍﺕ ornaments A royal robe, or rich dress ornamented with embroidery. Name of a tablet of Bahá’u’lláh published in Tablets of Bahá’u’lláh.
Tarbíyat FA: تربيت education, upbringing, teaching, instruction, pedagogy The name of a group of Bahá’í schools established in Ṭihrán around the turn of the 20th century.
Ṭashkand FA: تاشکند city of stones; place on a hill Tashkent, capital of Uzbekistan
Tawhid AR: توحيد‎ unification, union, combination, fusion Oneness of God, the most important article of faith in Islam.
Thurayyá AR: الثريا The Pleiades; a star cluster once seen and described by the Prophet Muhammad. Used as a female given name (Soraya).
Ṭihrán FA: تهران‎ a warm place; Tir's abode; bottom of the mountain Tehran/Teheran, capital of Írán, birthplace of Bahá’u’lláh.
Túman A sum of money equivalent to a dollar.[2][12]
U
Term Source Meaning Definition
‘Ulamá AR: أولاما knowers Also Ulema. Learned men of Islam, i.e. theologians, canon lawyers, professors, muftis, etc; a council of the learned, especially in a Muslim state.[19]
Urúmíyyih FA: ارومیه water town Also Urmia, Orumiyeh. City in West Ádharbáyján Province, Írán, located near the lake of the same name.[4]
Ustád FA: اوستاد master A master craftsman.
V
Term Source Meaning Definition
Vaḥíd FA: وحید alone, solitary Superlative form of ‘waḥada’, to be alone. Numerical value of 28.
Váḥid FA: واحد unity The 19-year cycle of the Bahá’í calendar.
Valí-‘Ahd FA: ولیعهد heir to the throne[2] A crown prince, or chosen successor.
Varqá FA: ورقا Dove
Vazír FA: وزیر burden-bearer, helper[20] Also Vizier, Vizir, Wazír. The chief minister and representative of the caliph, and later, of the head of state of the Persian and Ottoman Empires.[20]
W
Y
Term Source Meaning Definition
Yá ‘Alíyyu’l-‘Alá “O Thou the Exalted of the Exalted” or “O Thou the Exalted, the Most Exalted”. A form of the name of the Báb, used as an invocation.
Yá Alláhu'l-Mustagháth AR: يا الله المستغث “O God, He Who is invoked” or “O Thou God Who art invoked”
Yá Bahá’u’l-Abhá AR: يا بهاء الأبهى “O Glory of the All-Glorious” or “O Thou the Glory of the Most Glorious”. A form of the name of Bahá’u’lláh, used as an invocation.
Yaḥyá AR: يحيى John A common Arabic given name, referring to John the Baptist.
Yazd A province and city in central Írán, notable as the primary centre of the Persian Zoroastrian population.
Z
Term Source Meaning Definition
Zádih son of;[2] descendant of Also Zadeh, Zada. A common patronymic suffix.
Zanján Also Zenján.[21] City between Qazvín and Tabríz, home of Ḥujjat; site of a major battle in which Bábís were massacred.
Zaynu’l-Muqarrabín “the Ornament of the Near Ones” or “the Ornament of the favoured”

Asylum



In the madhouse
on beds of daggers
we slept like crickets
chirping to ourselves
while they tried their best
to make us cannibals.

The nuns were worse than
lawyers, praying like accordions,
tracking their sins into our soft
wax skulls, wheezing like roosters
when one of us cried, laying the greasy ribs
of Jesus on our plates.

They kept you behind
door number six. I'd go to you
with a stolen key, when the noon
smelled bright as carnations,
when the nights were
more purple than the jacarandas.

You spoke of your father
dead of snakebite,
a clockwork marvel with
his million-dollar suit of skin,
of your mother
with the viper between her lips.

I remember your kiss
astringent with reason
as bitter lemons, and the way
your hair blew back from
your dog-brown eyes like poisonous
smoke from the oleanders.

I thought these things
as beautiful as angels
whispering in the dahlias
when I was lost in the asylum,
when the doctors did all they could
to see that we ate each other
down to the bone.


April 2022