Simi Valley, California
Information Address: dealscart@gmail.com
ISBN 0-9779918-0-6
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
Contents
Blood of Iran
Silence in Tyranny
Stoned in Iran
Her Cancer
Her Farewell Chapter
Punishment for Five
The Schoolboy
Solitary Night
Manila
Pieces of My Jewish Life
The Heavens Have Spoken
It Cannot Be
Against All Odds
Here She Comes
The Parting and the Union
Remember the Time
The Princess and the Queen
Your Beauty
The Wedding Blast
Wasted Life
Corporate America
Greed
The Agent
Creator's Notes
Parents for Three Months
The Expulsion
Farewell to Taba
Metamorphosis
Betrayal
Soldier's Sacrifice
Tragedy of Life
All That Is Left
Hebrew Lament
The Final Chapter
Blood of Iran
Iran, the lost treasure of Persia,
The burning candle in modern era,
Civilization's long-lasting stand,
Bleeds from the seas to the heartland.
From the splendid heights of Damavand,
To the valleys of Sarband,
From the Great Salt Desert in barren land,
To the waterways of Arvand,
The diverse people withstand,
Theocracy's whipping command,
The tortures of tyranny offhand,
The torching of the homeland.
The legends that we recall in delight,
Cyrus, the first declarer of human rights,
Razi, medicine's guiding light,
Ferdowsi, the fighter with epical might,
Ibn-Sina, science's most bright,
Khayyam, the animator of moonlight,
Saadi, the mystical upright,
Hafez, the Sufi with worldly insight,
All weep in backlight,
As they witness history's rewrite,
As Persians fall from great heights,
As educators flee the blight,
As intellectuals are imprisoned at sight,
As writers are silenced by sticks and fright,
As words are censored byte by byte,
As freedoms vanish bite by bite,
As truths are revealed on forbidden websites,
As women fight for their plight,
As girls are debased by drought,
As boys hold heaven's key tight,
As lads depart for a foreign fight,
As hanging judges indict,
As men are hanged at town’s site,
As streets are filled with graphite,
As riots ignite,
As courageous men die in gunfight,
As blood splashes in the alleys at night,
As infernos greet the daylight.
Stones take lives,
Lives not worthy of bullets or sharpened knifes,
Lives of mothers and beloved wives,
Lives of men covered in sand so rife,
Who dares to protest amongst the lowlife?
When cities are rampaged by deadly strife,
When government swings its butcher knife.
Rostam[1] (the Persian mystical hero) dies in motherland’s fight,
Above the mountains flies Ahriman’s[2] (the ancient Persian devil) kite,
Shadows befall as the sun surrenders out of site,
On blood-soaked sand marches a black knight,
Alexander's curse echoes with historical spite,
Nourooz[3] (the New Year's Day) turns into a weeping night,
Haman roars above fire and light,
Water turns red without sprite,
The prison turns into a massive gravesite.
Silence in Tyranny
Let's say yea to government thugs,
Let's spread them Persian rugs,
Let's pretend we are bunch of slugs,
Let's keep our lips tight and snug.
Stoned in Iran
Today they will bury me alive
They will place me in a hole
And cover me with soil up to a line above my breasts
They will kill me slowly, stone by stone
They will carry the penal code word by word:
The Stones should be neither too big nor too small
Each stone should cause sever injury
My mother and sisters will watch me die
My little ones will be there too
The government wants to teach the kids a lesson
I told my little ones that Momy is going to paradise
Momy will look after them from above
Momy will be behind the clouds
But Momy will always be there
Her Cancer
Oh Sipora! Oh Sipora!
What a great time we had dancing like honeybees, singing like bluebirds, and cackling like monkeys
Clueless bystanders do not sense the laser beams of chemotherapy,
or feel the dagger of lost loves,
or bleed through the shattered pieces of crystal lives,
But we know
The crazy-leg moves are footholds of fortitude,
The singing is the orchestra of millions of fighting cells,
The laughter is the lethal weapon that masks the enemy within,
The melody notes are dancers that swirl with the saw cutting through your bones
Her Farewell Chapter
Her face is the rugged cover of an endless novel,
In many pages she has peeled under the scorching sun,
In many chapters she has incinerated beneath the skin,
Her latest skin is mottled and wrinkled,
Her latest skin is the canvas of a lifetime.
Her eyes are the gate to the narrator's hardened soul from which a thousand and one tales unfold:
Tales of love, caring, and mercy,
Tales of struggles, perseverance, and triumphs,
Tales of foolishness, deceit, and defeat,
Tales of hate, jealousy, and vengeance,
Tales of a bruised lonely girl,
Tales of countless pleasures of the swinging birds,
Tales of wars when her children were not yet born,
Tales of a loved one in the tomb,
Tales of families torn apart.
Behind the gates of a convalescent home she sits tranquil as a dream,
In seclusion, with gray eyes, which are the last of the burning candles, she looks at passersby,
She tosses a loaf of bread towards her visitors, the hummingbirds, and dreams of the day that she would fly.
I visit her like a stranger from another land and bring her a rose with bleeding thorns,
But she greets me like a best friend:
Together we listen to the music of the heartland,
Together we sing the songs of the motherland,
Together we dance as I hold her fragile hands,
Together we give the world another chance.
At dust, her eyes are the sunset as I am the moon,
They awaken the numb corners of my soul,
She sees beneath my skin - indeed, the first to see me as I am.
As we descend, she mumbles my name and then says this is the name of her father who long has been gone,
“Young man,” she says, “may all your wishes come true,”
“May you find a wife who surely deserves you.”
As we part I smile although in pain,
As we part I kiss although in vain,
As we part I put on my shark mask and rush to the rat-race,
Real tears flow from within as I feel endlessly cheated by the plastic people and their silicone world,
As I hold the tears in my palm the rose fades but the heart bleeds on.
Punishment for Five
He was five with hazel eyes,
Stood in the garbage can with all the flies,
Each morning the teacher five times his size,
Punished him to the corner till he cries.
His friend told him to stand on one foot and rest the other,
His sister told him to hold onto the drapes,
So, he stood on one foot and leaned on the drapes,
The teacher caught him and yelled, “You little trickster”,
Charged at him with her angry gaze and swagger,
Twisted his ears like a broken helicopter,
Dragged him to the principle's bunker.
The principal huffed, “What is the matter with this troublemaker?”,
“Caught him holding the drapes and playing prankster ,“ said the teacher,
Slap-slap went the principal heating like a boiler,
Wink-wink went the teacher standing like a hammer,
“Will send him to a room with wild dogs and a butcher”,
“Oh no,” cried the boy with a stutter,
“Don't send me to the room dear teacher!”
“I will not hold the drapes and be a real pleaser!”
“Take away this rascal,” said the principal with a whisper.
So, the teacher dragged him back to the classroom,
She handed him a large dirty broom,
He swiped the detention corner of the room,
Afterwards, he stood in the garbage can like in a courtroom,
With both feet and not enough legroom,
He stood there quietly till the day of doom,
When he ran away and forgot he was five.
The Schoolboy
Today I learned many lessons at school,
I am just a pale and skinny Iranian boy,
Carrying a bag twice the size of my head,
The hunchback of Tehran with a bighead.
In the morning class the redhead teacher screamed into my ears,
She slapped me so hard my other chick hit the granite floor,
During the intersession she caught me tapping with joy,
Blindfolded, I had defeated an older boy with a knight maneuver and castle ploy,
But the teacher knocked my chess set to the floor,
She called me a retard and a blind scour,
In madness she flunked me in physics with a bad score,
The one subject I truly adore,
In this world of senseless people and incongruous folklore.
The English literature teacher kicked me out of the class because once I was late through the door,
The nasty old man was shooting like a matador,
That is why this poem has bad grammar and deep rancor,
In the cold and snow I dreamt of becoming a senator,
Then the teacher had me swipe the floor and rub the mole.
The Persian literature teacher charged his big ruler up the air,
I did not see it coming in pain and despair,
It hit me in the neck and then smacked my fingers in a tear,
All because I had stuttered, in flare, while rehearsing a poem so rare.
In the final intersession a class bully punched me in the stomach,
I collapsed to the ground and then he kicked me in the groin,
Afterwards, I hid in the dark corner of Persian toilets till I heard the bell,
I hanged out till the bully and the principal both used the stool.
In the final class students made fun of Miss Holt,
The lady was soft and had hyenas after her tail,
We took revenge because she was a teacher,
Alas, the only good "teacher" on that day,
In tears she quit for a never-ending holiday.
I told Mom I had a nice day at school,
I told Dad I learned many lessons at school,
Lessons about human nature and corporal rule,
Lessons I shall not forget till I grow to write with red ink and whirlpool.
Solitary Night
Tonight is a night without the moon
A night when stars are lost in the sky, drift apart like strangers, and burn in black holes
A night when comets wander alone, with no where to turn, with no where to call home
A night when sprinkler drops freeze in air and weave trees blankets of frost
A night when darkness conquers the mind of every dweller and ashes cover fireplaces in once cozy homes
A night spent in solitary confinement where time is imprisoned in a capsule
Tonight is a night without you
Manila
From the rubbles of the most devastated cities of World War II where foot by foot was soaked with blood
And Across the sixty miles long death march of the Pacific where Filipino and American soldiers carried each other shoulder-to-shoulder in a brotherly strive for survival
And from thousands of islands pounded by tropical storms, volcanoes, mud slides, and earthquakes
A nation of exemplary golden hearts, rich characters, and humble souls rises again
From thousands of high-rises overlooking crumbled shanties life bursts and a great city is reborn
From the rice terraces of Banawe, sculptured through generations of hard labor, farmers harvest for the city
A little girl with her tiny hands digs through piles of garbage and searches for food for her younger siblings
A mother sobs as her children leave for foreign lands
A father spends his last coin to shelter his kids
And Manila roars with the restless dragon of Asia as a new generation carries on the struggle
I bear witness for in these islands of playful sun I have found my best friends, my companion, and my lifelong inspiration
Pieces of My Jewish Life
Today I collect the pieces of my Jewish life,
A Torah handed down from great grandparents,
Fading memories of my Bar mitzvah by the Wailing Wall,
Bits and pieces of rehearsed prayers echoing from Babylonian synagogues,
A Yarmulke kept from a favorite wedding.
Today I collect the pieces of my Jewish life,
A brain spinning from the miracles of Genesis,
A conscience tormented by bruises I have inflicted,
A heart bleeding from the Haman plot to the Holocaust,
A left hand cut from the root,
Words of prayer scripted on burnt walls,
Ancient bricks still holding atop the land,
Oh, Jerusalem, Jerusalem! How did you burn again!
Today I collect the pieces of my Jewish life,
Eve lands from another world - a world unseen by my tribe,
To become a Jew, Adam first had to become a man,
Eve brings the ripped fruit of life,
I obliviously eat as I am submerged in pleasure,
Adam becomes a human - a man.
Today I collect the pieces of my Jewish life,
As I am driven to an abyss in the depths of infamy,
Driven like the lost tribe of Israel,
Driven to wonder like a shepherd lost in wilderness,
Driven to uncover my mission as I collect the pieces of my Jewish life.
The Heavens Have Spoken
The heavens have spoken my dear for they have crossed the rainbow and splattered its colors onto our lives
The heavens have spoken my dear for they have connected our souls through pumping hearts
The heavens have spoken my dear for the silenced bells are ringing and sending people to the altar
The heavens have spoken my dear for the pledge of a lifetime has been whispered in their ears
The heavens have spoken my dear for Valentine is here to be with us forever
It Cannot Be
It cannot be the hands of mortals for they cannot shake oceans and continents in order for us to meet
It cannot be mother earth for it has placed vast lands between us that forbids us to meet
It cannot be modern science for it cannot fathom such improbability of time and space, energy and matter, fortune and destiny
It cannot be the tricks of the magicians or the powers of the superstitions for they cannot weave the bond of love connecting us across the oceans
It cannot be the ancient gods for the cries of Hercules bounced back from the heavens
It is your hands, your heart, and your loving presence, my dear, which created the miracle
Against All Odds
Have you ever thought that oceans separate your island and my homeland?
Have you ever thought that billions and billions live and die in our world?
Have you ever thought that time and space, historical and contemporary events, oceans and lands, make us infinitely improbable matches on earth?
Have you ever thought that we are inseparable dots connected across the globe?
Have you ever thought of the miracle?
Here She Comes
In the glimpse of the horizon where the sun kisses the morning, she travels ahead of a flock of birds atop the roaring Pacific. She is a fighter carrying the pain and pride of her nation in her backpack.
She has been through many storms in the life she has left behind and in this last turbulent journey, where there is no return to her motherland, she is dreaming of a new life whose every cherished moment is as varied as snow flickers and as colorful as brushes of kindergarten art.
She lands on a soil where a beginning with infinite possibilities awaits her conquest. She is the latest undiscovered treasure crafted in foreign lands.
Watch out the foretellers of destiny for she shall knit her own tangled destiny.
Watch out the gods and puppeteers of ordinary lives for she has mastered the art of living and shall charm you into submission.
Watch out the hills and the valleys hiding in the vastness of America for the empress has entered your land.
The Parting and the Union
In the end, destiny struck mother earth a final blow and oceans were set apart and crossed in a show grander than the parting of Red Sea.
From two households to which neither side set foot,
not connected by blood or tangled by fate,
in worlds set apart, with no passage through land,
under the fabulous march of the stars,
Saturn broke the perpetual solar dance and joined Venus in a heavenly union.
Remember the Time
Remember the time you gave me a handmade gift on Valentine when we first met,
Remember the time when we took a ferry ride and watched the equator sunset,
Remember the time you blew into my face so that I won’t sweat,
Remember the time you bargained for me without me asking or knowing what to bet.
Remember the time I put all my trust in you in a foreign country for you were my safety net,
Remember the time I patted you just because I love you,
Remember the time I lifted all your bags just because I love you,
Remember the time I wanted our moments together to be frozen and last forever just because I love you,
Remember the time I sent you foot support to relieve your pain just because I love you,
Remember the time I took intercontinental flights just because I love you.
The Princess and the Queen
The grandmaster in charge of the heavenly bodies at this vivacious corner of the universe slowly descends the celestial ladder atop the horizon. With grace and poise, she collects bundles of shiny blond hair covering her luminous body. Her magnificent presence arouses the oceans, toasts the soil, and warms the hearts. She is the source of creation and the source of destruction. Her tremendous gravity attracts many towards her who like worshippers travel around her shrine in eternal journeys. Those who are tricked and stare at her with naked eyes instantly become blind. And those infatuated souls who dare to come close, melt in her awesome presence. Through the prism her colors are distinguishable, but like a complex being with a myriad of emotions and personas one could not determine her essence for the mix of colors has formed a jigsaw puzzle of infinite possibilities.
A cool breeze flows from her direction as the earth's fan goes into swing. The sky embracing her turns purple as blood pours from her. As mountains say their farewell and kiss her face, the canvas of the sky is mixed with orange spats and violet brushes. Is this a subliminal image of God, or is nature, the grand artist, displaying her finest work, or is it merely the imagination of the mortal observers, or is it a combination of all?
As the day kneels down, the purple blood is washed away and the blond mistress is overthrown by an ebony ueen with an outfit covered with millions of glittering diamonds. She dominates darkness and passionate nights ith her twinkling eyes and silky black hair. It is in her territory that wild beasts go hunting. It is under her spell hat eyes turn to the moon. It is in her domain that nights of passion create the never-ending cycle of life.
Your Beauty
Your beauty handcuffs the greatest painter, withdraws the moon in embarrassment, and bends sun's rays in submission
Which sculptor could carve your fine curves?
Which rock could animate the warmth and tenderness of your flesh?
And how could it be polished up to match the smoothness of your skin?
You are the source of life
You inject life into life
You are the joy and pleasure of life
Oh, take me to your depths
Let us melt in the heat of passion
Let me peacefully fall asleep on your pillow
The Wedding Blast
Jet fighters roared above the wedding tent,
Raced music into the reception hall in deep ascent,
Rushed past the elated crowd waiting for the blessed event,
Stroked a high-pitched note without aim.
The bride, the finest piece of nature and art,
With grace, splendor, and trembling heart,
With bowing flower girls, the moon and the stars like darts,
Walked up a path brushed up so white and bright,
Was crowned the queen of the night,
With yea put the palace into party flame.
The groom, her complimentary rhyme,
The finest man in his prime,
A talisman in rapid climb,
Broke the glass with his foot’s pounding slime,
Uncovered the beauty beneath the gown and shrine,
Declared her his life-treasured pride and final claim.
Folks gathered from Jerusalem, Madrid, and LA shores,
As if receiving the Dead Sea Scrolls,
Like billiard balls scattered in random rolls,
Shared destiny’s collision and joys of interconnecting souls,
With bang and ding cheered the beginning of life’s puzzling game.
Shaven-head army buds high-fived with arms soared and lame,
At dust, fell into their girlfriend’s bosom without shame,
At dawn, sank into dugout holes while in aim,
Danced in dark corners like soldiers who perished without a name.
Old lads with canes and shouldering back-bending pain,
Sang hymns of glory and national themes,
Gulped wine, beer and cocktails as if it were all the same.
Women with teasing curves,
Pregnant doll waiting for the call,
Old woman with one leg in the tomb,
All with beat and spunk danced as if there was no end to the ball,
Each caught the intruding eyes,
Each grabbed its moment of fame.
Little girls with rosy cheeks held hands and danced in circles,
Whilst elders watched and wondered through the shattered mirrors of the past:
Who is next to loose an arm and a leg in the coming terror bomb and maim?
Till the moon fell from the sky they danced to tango, hip-hop and rock,
Held tight their nuclear families and shrugged off the nuclear cloud,
Deep down recited prayers in Almighty's name.
Wasted Life
Today is yet another day
When my life is wasted away
My day is spent in disarray
I’m aimless like a runaway
So worthless is my night and day
I sell my life on a web site
The bidder pays a price too high
Wants returned merchandise with a sigh
I say sooner or later I will reimburse and payg
Credit due to my bidder prey
But I throw the return slip in the ashtray
The bidder cannot find me in the hay
Hee ha! Everything is OK!
Today is just another payday
Corporate America
The American entrepreneur is dead,
Zombies with eyes so red,
Occupy cubicles instead,
Chinese food and pizza they are fed,
Schedules and blue prints they shed,
Junk email and rumors they spread.
Bow to the slave master the crackle head,
Big boss gets a big bonus from dragon's head,
Young fellow, the slave master, is ill-trained,
Sends hot jobs offshore and is higher paid,
Peons down the drain are led.
Another VP is promoted and gets ahead,
Doesn't know the technology, the monster dread,
Has friends in high places - even in bed,
One is an expert in junk mail thread,
Another one a talking head.
Let's send more techies to behead,
Let's buy foreign junk and sleep overfed,
Let's have them build us a toy and a moped,
Let's sue one another over a loaf of bread,
Let's get in debt and trade houses like tulip bed,
Let's tears shed as to the rim America is sled.
Greed
To buy myself pieces of jewel
To be richer than Raul and Abdul
To drink wine and be cool
To buzz like a whirlpool
From Satul to Istanbul
To be on the board and rule
Nothing is too cruel
Many people I have to fool
Many pockets I have to mule
I shall steal from a church school
I shall rub seniors as in preschool
Like a shark in a bloody pool
Will bury everyone in a stool
I have to win every dual
This is the ground rule
The Agent
Hee-ha!
From Burbank to Newport Beach
I screw clients with every deal
I'm the middleman in the deal
Deceiving on both ends until I make a steal
Soon will turn a million into two
With clientele and resumes of screwed up folks
I kiss up to the powerful and scorn the powerless
Firing and hiring is my game
It is all business by the way
Nothing personal I should say
Dear and thanks I use and misuse
Only money is dear; only power deserves thanks
Creator's Notes
To find my miracles, look no further than the mirror,
For your body is the perfect work of the creator,
One misplaced molecule and you would not exist,
One misplaced cell and you would exist in an entirely different form.
Your home, the earth, is but a dot in the universe,
Yet it dwindles in heavens like a perfect clock,
in harmony with the milky way and the galaxies that encompass it,
And you are a dot dwindling on earth,
Yet you behave as if you are greater than the creator.
Know that what you cannot see is more important than what you can see,
One who is dreaming thinks what it sees is real,
One who is dreaming is not aware of other worlds,
You are in a dream,
For you cannot fathom the other worlds that I have envisioned,
Physicist lost in perpetual complexity will never uncover my world,
There shall never be a mathematical equation that models my world.
To doubt is the stepping stone to believing in truth,
To say "I don't know," may be the wisest words for a mortal,
Let science guide you, but don’t let it misguide you in believing that you know it all.
Let science enlighten you, but don’t let it blur the domains that thus far have been beyond its reach.
It is through my power that you shall travel to another universe,
It is through my power that you shall sense what you cannot fathom,
It is through my power that you shall see what you cannot envision.
There are infinite paths which you can take,
You may choose to do my work on earth,
Or you may choose to be wicked.
You are the master of your home as you have conquered it,
You may choose to clutter and burn it down
Or you may choose to keep it pristine and nourish it.
Remember that you are capable of being many things,
Remember that you will be many things to many people,
But only after you walk the path which you have chosen,
You will see your final destiny,
And only your path describes what you have become.
Parents for Three Months
We were parents for three months
Life was good for three months
The three of us felt like a big family
The three of us were starting a new life
The mother and baby were in one body
My wife and baby were one
The tiny one took a lot of space at three months
My wife was becoming a big Santa Claus
We did not pray for a boy or a girl
We prayed for a healthy baby
The baby had middle names after its grandparents
Picking a first name was our hobby
We saw the images of the unborn many times
It floated in its nest like a cloud
It was a quiet child
The doctors could not hear a heartbeat
The Expulsion
Weren't the Jews expelled from the many lands in which they dwelt? With their innocence and pride intact they marched from ghettos to barren lands while their persecutors spat and cut them the hand. Yet the wandering Jews rose into halls of fame serving humanity with acclaim.
And why is it that you have expelled me from the house of worship, on this Day of Atonement, in the final hour of the fast? You pointed me sitting among brothers and showed me the door in humiliation that to grave shall last.
But don't you know that I am a Jew? I shall endure this pain and hard-boiled stain and rise from infamy with my name inscribed in the Renaissance halls of fame and lessons rehearsed from my deep-rooted past.
Farewell to Taba
Our meeting place in Egypt,
From the times of Moses till today,
Is drenched in maim and vain.
Yesterday our kids played on Red Sea shore,
Together they built a sand castle topped with sea shell decor,
But the castle and the kids are there no more,
They were quashed by a 200-kilogram bomb at the core,
Planted by those who our very existence they abhor.
My people are in exodus from your historic land,
With body parts spread across the sand,
With our people giving each other a helping hand,
With loving memories that are banned,
With suffering and daily terror that we withstand.
Terror weaved a new poverty chain,
Terror targeted locals in disdain
With a campaign that no one can explain,
Terror plotted to destroy all that is humane.
Farewell to the gem city of Sinai plain,
Farewell to its warm people that remain and sustain,
Farewell to our friends that are left in pain,
Farewell to peace that runs in our common vein.
Metamorphosis
And what has become of the dream? Do you not know that dream is the mother of ambition and ambition shakes the oceans and the mountains? Do you not know that the dreamer is not alive without the dream as the dream is not alive without the dreamer?
And what has become of your conscience? Has it not been your guide through the maze? How many men have you backstabbed? How many friends have you blackmailed? How many women have you lied to?
And what has become of the bond? A bond weaved through the years and inseparable by death. What dagger has cut through? Did your brother not recognize you? Aren’t you aware that your people are still struggling for survival?
And what has become of your heart? A heart that once would not hurt an ant. Wasn’t your heart the fountain of the dream? Has your heart stopped beating?
All that remains is the heartless beat of a predator chasing a prey and chopping its arteries,
Cubs that followed their mother’s footsteps are the intimidators of wilderness,
A breeze in the backyard is a punch of a tropical storm,
Round marble gems are cut to rough-edged stones,
What has become of you?
Betrayal
I left you alone in a cold night,
without a coat, without a shelter,
with only dark memories carved on stones.
Then in the coldest night, in the darkest tunnel,
I felt the dagger ripping outwards from within,
cutting through my bones, intestines, heart and skin.
And as the ground soaked with blood from my tainted vein, only then I understood what I had done in vain,
I went insane with an exploding brain.
And I looked for you in ghost towns and deathly terrain,
But I only saw you in nightmares bolted in chain,
And I woke into day mares in feign,
Only to find myself in the pit without a reason to remain.
Soldier's Sacrifice
Body parts scatter across the barren land,
Streams of blood flow under the scorched sand,
Vultures attend the funeral and tear the gland,
Scorpions bury the remainders strand by strand.
The body returns to soil as it separates from the soul,
Our best man perishes in terror and turmoil,
A teen life lost in toil; a future gone spoil.
Little John is born today,
The day his daddy left for hell,
The day his daddy went to heaven,
The day mommy woke from a nightmare,
The day mommy hugged her bundle of joy.
Back home fireplaces are cozy and worm,
Skiers slide down pristine slopes in boasting form,
Sun worshippers pack the beaches from coast to coast,
Motels and hotels greet visitors with hostess and host,
Streets are bustling with rich and poor,
Some lost and some taking a tour.
In lands far away where there is famine, quake, and tsunami,
Our men help all - even the misguided and the commie,
For America is a nation of all nations for all nations,
A mirror to the world through its colors and compassions.
Not a shot was fired at the mainland where we dwell,
Even when the world burnt in earthy hell,
Lucky we were even when Europe fell,
For America has had a big turtle's shell,
Since John's daddy was sacrificed in the bombshell.
Tragedy of Life
There is a tragedy in each and every one of us;
The kaleidoscope of life with its infinite possibilities terminates at a black hole.
An unhappy childhood is the domino of cruel ages;
A choo-choo train of misfortune carriages.
A happy childhood is a bitter sweet gate to adulthood;
A candy store of sugar ruins and intoxicating wines.
A baby tucked in her mother's arms is cradled by disaster;
For it is from her mother that she inherits debilitating genes.
Our lives are crushed by brutal stoning of destiny;
Age tortures us and destroys our palaces of youth.
There is no escaping the slow death that awaits us;
We are standing in line waiting to be slaughtered.
There is no death that is not tragic;
There is no life that is not tragic.
All That Is Left
You and I are all that is left
Neither a skeleton nor a ghost
neither a shadow nor a silhouette
neither Gabriel nor Ahriman
roam the downtown streets
Light neither enters nor escapes the earth
for the earth is caged by dust-cloud
and melted by chimneys firing to the skies
and suffocated by blankets of lava
Great cities are buried under ash
destroyed blast by blast
over and over again
by the nuclear stockpiles
The earth is kicked off the solar dance
Joins wandering meteors in space-dust
Pacific Ocean pours down the moon
The last nation is buried alive
Finally, no people are left to hate
no treasures are left to claim
no hungry children are left to ignore
no being is left to suffer
Messiah is done waiting for the people
The son bleeds the last blood
The father lays down the cane
The spirit rests every soul
Is this God’s wrath or the devil’s triumph?
One last puzzle is left to solve
One last battle is left to fight
One last being is left to destroy!
You and I are all that is left
Hebrew Lament
God
In the name
of Isaac the lamb
Jacob the compassionate
Moses the liberator of slaves
What catastrophe shall befall your children at this juncture?
What tragedy is planned for the suffering humanity?
What powerful Haman shall rise next in Persia?
Jerusalem is tortured till the end of history
As it endures bloodshed among Semite cousins
A baby that bleeds from the onset & cries to the end
As past ghettos are forgotten and we sin with golden calves
What shall become of our children?
May we ask for your mercy?
In the next Holocaust
Before Messiah
Amen
The Final Chapter
In the end, there will be nothing left but poetry.
*************************************
Revolt of Hearts
Copyright @2006 Isaac Levy,
Los Angeles, California
All rights reserved. No part of this book may
be reproduced in any form or by any means without the
prior consent of the Publisher.
Information Address: RisingDeepStar@Yahoo.com
ISBN 0-9779918-0-6
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
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[1] Rostam: The Persian mythical hero
[2] Ahriman: The devil
[3] Nourooz: The New Year’s Day
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