Incontinence of Pseudo-emotion has engulfed us from the 3rd grade.
It festered dormant for a little under a decade before it’s vessel popped.
A pore filled with ***** media which dehumanizes and objectives human beings
While making a spectacle and esteem of being promiscuous.
All that Dirt
Lathered in an oil of misdirection. A misunderstanding of affection, empathy and apathy.
Those who contrive the most emotion are perceived as actually possessing the most emotion.
Nothing can be farther from the truth.
This is the death of morality. A birth of Nihilism.
The miasma of the rotting corpse of ethos and emotional connection.
Is one that sits in the stomach and contracts illness not curable due to our understanding.
We have been taught that promiscuity will bring us happiness, and yet it is the most depressing.
Without understanding of that we are incurable from this ugly affliction.
Momentary bursts of relief chafe the most sensitive areas of our skin. Without treatment.
We will be encased in our handmade carapace which will indefinitely block us from emotion.
Luckily someone invented lotion, soft tissues, and silicone.

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Like the way the valleys of the earth
Cup their hands for light and drink,

Like the way the desert opens up its sweet mouth
And laughs

When someone melts pearls in the sky
And rain, rain
Returns like a divine lover
With a hundret wonderful gifts

O, the words from the true Teacher
Bring my mind and cells
Such sacred nourishment and life.

When the moon is full
It gets gregarious and likes to chat.
I have heard it say,

"Look what can happen, dear seeker,
When you lean your graceful arms toward God in prayer,

Look at all that amorous light you can catch
That will help the night musicians and your soul
Get loose."

I stand revolving like a great dervish
In an ecstatic submission to His will.

I have been hired to perform the final act of grace.
I am the priest in every sacred wedding tent.

Tonight I am a sovereign planet
With a great wool skirt.
I am a divine artist
One stage before God's entire court.

With each sublime whirl and orbit
I bow to the Sun's feet.
I fill my glass for you, dear pilgrim,
Beneath the luminous leaking barrel.

I then pour all the contents of my heart
And eye's experience
Upon this banquet table,

For your body and mind are a precious silk cloth
Hafis has come to dye!

I circumambulate the Truth from the sky
Like a golden vulture.
I have forsaken all the crippling manners
Of even the most royal birds.

I carry a lute in my talons like a mortal weapon.
Please, please enter into a holy battle with me.
For I am God's friend
Who maims with compassion!
And you are a lost dove upon His wing.

I can teach you
How to bribe the Beloved with an angelic tune

So that the divine manna of His glance
Will fall upon your palate.

Some days I know
You are being trained as an emissary
To serve in his office of joy.

Dear one,
Last night, in the gallery of Reality
I saw a portrait I will never forget:

The Beloved was stirring a ***
With a spoon the size of a universe
And when He lifted it
I saw this whole world and its affairs
Were not even a floating speck of a barley
Before the radiance of two diamonds
That were His brilliant cheeks!

All I could do when beholding that vision
Was to fall upon my knees

And cup my hands like a humble valley
Huddled between the thights
Of this exquisite, holy mountain range

And try to build a resevoir to hold the Beloved's
Resplendent smile
That offers myriad tickets to freedom,
That offers the splendor of hearing God sing!

I am the spinning wheel upon the infinite.
I have swallowed the axis and hub
That fathered light and truth.

Grab hold and swing from me, my dear,
Doing the impossible
With your hands and feet both clapping.

I offer a mother's comfort and knowledge
To those who are tired and weak.

And when you become strong
I will conduct like a skilled warior-king
Your divine volcanic glands exploding like new galaxies
In all their blessed madness.

God offers love, love, love
With His own hands,
To your beautiful parched holy mouth.

Open your soul, handsome, dying one.
See all gender talk like a mighty joke,
In a oneness as glorious like this!

Hafiz, go running from that gallery
Like a naked drunk lion
Roaring with a laughter that will shake
The whole earth
And every window and door throughout the sleeping
Cities,

Like a man,
Like a man who is delivering on a great steed
Fantastic news!

Tie yourself as a bell
To herds of mating camels
And spring flocks of clouds and birds.

Tie yourself to spawning stars
And to leaping whales
In a game of tag with the Moon!
Tie yourself to everything in creation
That got poured from God's magic hat.

O, tie your soul like a magnificent sweet chime
To every leaf and limb in existence,

That begin to shout divine obscenities
So that he will sure send a tremendous storm.
Because Hafiz, because Hafiz,
O, sweet Hafiz,    
You are a man with such benevolent and fantastic
Good News!

Dear wayfarer,
Now indulge me in a sober moment.
Please set down your glass.

I can help you write a letter of resignation
To all your fears and sadness.

Listen:
Let all movement and sound,
Let all movement and sound

Begin to speak the truth to your heart
And write its music upon your vision and
Soft pink tongue.

Soak all your prejudices in oil-
I would consider it a favor.
Bring and sing to me your darkest thoughts,
For my whole body is blazing emerald wick,
I am a pure flame
Who needs and loves to burn.

We should lean against each other more
In such a strange world as this
That can make you scared
And even believe in that lie called death.

We should support each other more
Give more warmth
In such a demanding world as this.

Let all movement
Gently yield something of God
Upon your chin and vision
And roll down on your prayer mat
That will take root in the holy soil of your surrender.
May I hone your devotion with a kiss?

For all in existence is just spinning like this
Sweet earth
In a divine current.

Why not dance like Hafiz in the cup,
In the cup of His spoon?

I offer my clapping spirit to you,
That is in eternal movement.

Hafiz offersto bow at your feet
With hands that god has shaped and pounded.

Look in my palms, my dear,
They now contain your face and infinite existence.

All your ideas of space and time are shadows
That will run from this Sun She has made me.

I want to tie myself
As a gift around your neck.
I want to place a wonderful secret
Near your veins.

Why not use my verse as a golden camel bell
That you can turn upside down into a chalice
And fill with wine?

Hafiz,
You are a divine camel bell
That the Beloved is ringing with his own hand.

Hafiz you were a blessed slave to Truth
That died like a cut reed and became hollow-
Turned into a divine instrument
That God now lifts to His own mouth,
Plays to summon this world to freedom.

How many man exist upon this earth
To whom I could whisper a holy secret?

Dear ones,
"God has sown Himself onto my tongue."

Like the way
The valleys of the earth
Cup their hands for light and drink,

Like
The way
The desert opens up its sweet mouth
And laughs

When someone melts pearls in the sky

An rain, rain
Returns like a divine lover
With a thousands wonderful
Gifts,

O, the luminous words of my Beloved
Now bring my mind and soul
Such a sacred
Nourishment
And

Peace.

Her eyes on my skin.
Burning through layers of flesh and bone with each glare and bat.
Hot tea whistling into steamy rooms.
Creeping around the corners.
Blowing fresh orange citrus into my lungs.
Warming my blood.
Boiling hers.
Rustled sheets lying on the floor.
Cold bed.
Hardening pillows.
Morning dew running dry.
Cigarettes and coffee that used to keep me company.
Lost in your company for me.
Cold chills up my spine.
Screeching like nails against blackboards.
I lean in.
Stealing a kiss before you turn away.
It was one.
This time I didn't bother going in for two.
Or four.
Or ten.
You didn't bother stopping the faucet from dripping.
You didn't twitch with uneasiness.
I didn't go mad by the oddness of our love between warm lips.
My body pulls away.
Rejecting your hand from mine.
And every little thing I used to love about you
Bothers me somehow.
Our dreams.
Wrapped in paper.
Covered in white.
And laid out in real stars.
Tied together with a silver ribbon of light.
Now dripping in oil and black paint.
Ripped up.
Thrown into the flames.
Streaming ablaze like moths.
Like powdered butterfly wings in hot coal.
Black smoke.
Filing away at my outsides.
Pulling out pieces of hair you used to run your fingers through gently as I cried.
Spreading oceans to your lap.
Swimming with the creatures of the dry ground.
Floating on the waves until we drown.
Falling to the floor in heaps of spirals.
Falling to my knees.
Feeling the wet mud beneath me.
Pulling me under slowly.
The soft rays once glistening on our bed.
Caressing your face.
Your sweet lips gently on my thighs at Night when your bare body calls to mine.
Turned to darkness.
To the space in-between.
To the lies resting into my ribs.
Contracting inside.
Ripping away at everything living.
Keeping my chest afloat inside of me.
I kiss your feet for what seems like forever.
With one last breath escaping my lips as the water boils over.
As the ashes fill the air of crisp moth wings once before.
As the last song from the last bluejay blisters out.

Desolé mon amour.

Kicking up.
Pushing me under the bottom sole of her feet.
Sinking in deep.
With only a second of suffocation.
I fall through.
Out of the childish dream.
Of forever love.
Into reality once more.

The snail so slowly climbs a
Mountain, past thickets and brushes and
Branches; climbing the ***** up to the
Apex, past the fountain and din of the
Fallen water; inexorably leaving its slimy
Wake behind it; greasy yellow hue of the
Sun reflecting in the spilled oil