Idinraha unshackled...

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January 31, 2005

Its not easy

I just posted two pieces, MONDAY IN BLUE, and QUIET HEART.. they are short pieces, but every time I get back to them they get me, I could say they are emotionally devestating. You might like to know how personal is this business of wrting, and how very much it takes out of you. these women, I show you, you should know how close they are to me, and how intimately they feed me their pain. They live in me, so I can feel them and allow me to display them. The last stanza in Quiet heart actually makes me ache physically. eh, I dont know, why we do what we do, and what is the extent of this knowing.....but I have noticed that in my most recent pieces, like HER GREEN AFRICA, or THE CONTEMPORARY MAN,my women, are more resolute, and they are able to understand their positions and deal with it. any way.....read them and let me know , maybe you know, and you let me know....

Posted by Idinraha at 05:16 PM | Comments (0)

Quiet Heart

I know you understand
Why I flow out of my rims
Why my skin creases,
And why my quiet heart pants

I burried you close,
You are in the yard
Ressurecting in my sleep,
You walk the hallways,
Smiling qietly, extending the light,
While I cross the days,
Wash my hair and hum

Trees die standing
I water the plants, sing them songs,
You left the door open when you died
My blouse unbuttoned,
My breasts , your orphans
Peeking through, long for your touch

I paint the rooms
Paint my face,
Stand outside, and howl
Watching Autum leaves
Closing in on the house

Posted by Idinraha at 05:02 PM | Comments (1)

Monday In Blue

Monday early,
I open the curtains
Put my lips against the glass
Begging for the warmth, as
The sun tears through the clouds

Monday morning
I leave my room,
Run out for coffee,
To spike my blood,
So I can go, so I don't stop

Monday afternoon
I excuse my life
Between the ambitions
Of my words, and paper
Looking for some happiness
I try to forget
My long hair, my breasts,
And the loneliness between my legs
Bloomed like a wound

Monday evening, driving home
Hoping to miss a sign
Take a wrong exit
I hold the steering wheel
And enter the sunset

Monday night, I am starnded
In the house, walking
Amongst shadowes that whisper,
Some stay, some leave,
I set the table, salt and pepper,
Forkes and knives, plates for two,
Then I take my clothes off,
And lie naked on the table

Posted by Idinraha at 04:50 PM | Comments (2)

Muted Worm

Laying down together
Watching the ceiling
Your arm under my head,
Our bodies heaving in unison

You turn, kissing me
On my neck, and keep
Your face there
So I can feel your breath

I turn to you
Trying to fit my head
On your chest
Fleeting the wet spot
As I hang on you, careless
I reach down, and hold your sex
The muted worm, fleeting in its skin
You are falling sleep,
And I am content

Posted by Idinraha at 04:37 PM | Comments (2)

Her Green Africa

It has taken her a while
To forget the scent
That soured her mouth,
And the tinge of pain
That elbowed her,
As she broke in half
Vomiting on the floor,
With her eyes bulging
Her throat in spasm

And the burning
The friction
Of him penetrating
Her in a jab
As the sleeping flesh
Was torn, swollen, in shock

She closed her eyes
And left her body,
Waking outside
Her green Africa
With her note books
In her hands
She pushed her hair aside
Walking to the bush
Allowing time to pass

Posted by Idinraha at 04:29 PM | Comments (0)

Cat Stevens

I think, Arman, or maybe Nassrin, Yes I am sure it was Nassrin(neda's sister) that introduced us to Cat Steven, and wow, the tempo, the lyrics, and the message, suited us fine, so He became, the singer we all listened to, and sang along, whispered. FATHER AND SON, WILD WORLD, MOON SHADOW, HARD HEADED WOMAN, MORNING HAS BROKEN, WHERE ARE YOU, and LADY DARBANVILLE, are some of his most famous songs. Well, later on in his life, he became dissulusioned , left singing and became a Moslem, of all the things he could become. His lyrics are fantastic, the songs beauitfully aranged and deffinitely a marvelous treat. Maryam, just made a refference to him in her new comments, and I thought this might get some of you old timers to go and bring back the old CD, and listen one more time , for the sake of old time

Posted by Idinraha at 12:43 PM | Comments (1)

I am still drunk, by all the fun, we had Saturdsy night. Yumm, the dancing, man I could go dancing every night, and Bogggggggggie. there is such an intimate pleasure in dancing, such a freedom, and as Debbie called it PARTNER DANCING, HUSSEL, is such a hoot. I went to the gym this morning, every thing was back to normal, but there were a lot more smiles, and a lot more sparkles in every bodys' eyes, than ussual. We all had shared a wonderfull night together, so there was lots of DID YOU SEE THAT, or, WASN'T THAT FUN, talks, I saw Debbie, one of my dance partners, on saturday, I kissed her and thanked her, for sharing such a wonderfull time. she tapped me on my shoulder a few times, and said how much fun she had dancing, and how she would go for another round, any time. Anthony looked a bit tired, Laradana, (anthonys partner, I call her Queen Bee ) was as energetic and pleasent as she always is. After my work out, I sat with some of the trainers, and looked through the first batch of the pictures, WOW, UNBELIEVABLE, SOME OF THE FUNNIEST PICTURES I HAVE EVER SEEN. We laughed so hard, hat some of the other cliens started staring at us. any way as I mentioned here before, Saturday, I discovered another promissing poet, on POETS.com. I spend most of Saturday morning, reviewing her poems. she writes so bruttaly honest, with such fresh voice, and sharp cutting metaphores, I was charmed, and hopefully I will ask her to visit us, and if she can be as kind, and generous, as our new friend, METALNYMPH, and allow us to sample some of her poems here, also read two fine pieces by Metal, STITCHES,and VIOLIN, they are FAB, and maybe she will allow us to post those also here. she has such clear and reaching way of holding her readers, I am greatful that she visit us here and leaves comments. THANKS METAL, YOU ROCK. It is so intersting to me that my two discoveries on POETS.COM, are women, going back to my fascination of how purely in touch, women are with themselves and heir world. These two definitely prove the point. Cyrus was away for the weekend, and fEREYDON, was AWOL. Maryam, my sister has left us a few comments, I thank her for that and for her loyalty. We have, Cyrus and I , registerd the name IDINRAHA.com, with Network Soloutions, and hopefully, in a week or so, you can reach us directly at IDINRAHA.COM. I am hoping to be able to upload pictures here soon, if Cyrus allows me and help me. so you would have pictures to go with Rants and poetry.

Posted by Idinraha at 10:55 AM | Comments (0)

I GOT MY MIND MADE UP, COME ON, YOU GET IT..........

I am still drunk, by all the fun, we had Saturdsy night. Yumm, the dancing, man I could go dancing every night, and Bogggggggggie. there is such an intimate pleasure in dancing, such a freedom, and as Debbie called it PARTNER DANCING, HUSSEL, is such a hoot. I went to the gym this morning, every thing was back to normal, but there were a lot more smiles, and a lot more sparkles in every bodys' eyes, than ussual. We all had shared a wonderfull night together, so there was lots of DID YOU SEE THAT, or, WASN'T THAT FUN, talks, I saw Debbie, one of my dance partners, on saturday, I kissed her and thanked her, for sharing such a wonderfull time. she tapped me on my shoulder a few times, and said how much fun she had dancing, and how she would go for another round, any time. Anthony looked a bit tired, Laradana, (anthonys partner, I call her Queen Bee ) was as energetic and pleasent as she always is. After my work out, I sat with some of the trainers, and looked through the first batch of the pictures, WOW, UNBELIEVABLE, SOME OF THE FUNNIEST PICTURES I HAVE EVER SEEN. We laughed so hard, hat some of the other cliens started staring at us. any way as I mentioned here before, Saturday, I discovered another promissing poet, on POETS.com. I spend most of Saturday morning, reviewing her poems. she writes so bruttaly honest, with such fresh voice, and sharp cutting metaphores, I was charmed, and hopefully I will ask her to visit us, and if she can be as kind, and generous, as our new friend, METALNYMPH, and allow us to sample some of her poems here, also read two fine pieces by Metal, STITCHES,and VIOLIN, they are FAB, and maybe she will allow us to post those also here. she has such clear and reaching way of holding her readers, I am greatful that she visit us here and leaves comments. THANKS METAL, YOU ROCK. It is so intersting to me that my two discoveries on POETS.COM, are women, going back to my fascination of how purely in touch, women are with themselves and heir world. These two definitely prove the point. Cyrus was away for the weekend, and fEREYDON, was AWOL. Maryam, my sister has left us a few comments, I thank her for that and for her loyalty. We have, Cyrus and I , registerd the name IDINRAHA.com, with Network Soloutions, and hopefully, in a week or so, you can reach us directly at IDINRAHA.COM. I am hoping to be able to upload pictures here soon, if Cyrus allows me and help me. so you would have pictures to go with Rants and poetry.

Posted by Idinraha at 10:55 AM | Comments (0)

January 30, 2005

I am hurtin

Long , long time ago, in a land far, far away........ when I was fifteen, or sixteen, every Thursdays evening, a group of us, used to get together, at somebody's house and party, have muchies, and then dance the night away. we litteraly danced for hours, and this was late seventies, so it was funk, and curtis matis, and we really had to shake it, and shake it , we did. The next day we ussualy slept it off, untill the next party. So last night Anthony, had his annual party. His parties are wild, so there was booze galore, food galore and we danced. When I dance I just dont stand there moving my hands, I dance with every moving parts, feeling I am the star, and believe it or not I do an extra fine job at it. So dance I did, and Of course ladies always enjoy Hussle, ehich is a seventies partner dance, you lock your hands together, and twirle, and turn, lots of hand moves and leg moves, and the tempo is ussually fast. My dance card got full very fast, and I was showing off, my lates moves and grooves. By two o' clock midnite, every bones of my body where hurtin, knees, back, arms, and I realised, that Alice does not live here anymore. and my 46 years old body had quit on me. But it was a blast, Marjan looked beautiful, my trophy wife, looked delicious, and though we did not get a chance to dance together much, we both had fun. By the time we got home, it was almost three am, so we got to bed, and talked, for a while and then I collapsed. This morning, back at work, I still feel it, and I thanked god, that Anthony only has these bashes, once a year. I found another friend on POETS.COM, she write beautifully, with emotionally honesty. so, most of yesterday, I reviewed, most of her poetry, and hopefully soon I might invite her here, and maybe post one of her poems, if permitted. I like to see, more comments on these pages, I like to see comments about METALNYMPH 's poem. Feed back is always appricited. Now I need to go sit at the front desk and wait for customers, Happy sunday.

Posted by Idinraha at 10:35 AM | Comments (1)

January 29, 2005

The gigolo and the poet soldier ( for Fereydoon )

You still walk on your toes,
Chewing your words, hurriedly
Half smile, turn your head
As your black hair covers your eyes

We were so young, so clear
Our world was so small,
We looked further,
And came a long way
To find our gold

I wrote you long letters,
When you went away, you
Surprised me by visits
I did not know,
Double dating Maggie, and Liisa
Driving your BMW, and then
It was you, me, and Pink Floyed,
Sitting on top of that hill,
Many starry nights

We are still here
Living different lives,
Findinf each other between
E-mails and instant messages,
Me , asking for a hug, you accepting
And the stubborn need in us
To hold the line
The gigolo and the poet soldier

Posted by Idinraha at 10:32 AM | Comments (2)

Echoes

Hello,yes, been a while, not much, how about you, dont know wahy I called, I guess I really wanted to talk to you..........This is Fereydon's favorite song from long ago, when our boyish hair was long, and promise of tommorows, was bright on our faces, he is a year older than me, he had long soft, very black hair, was thin as a rail, whore fashionable Jean pants and tops, and those Kaki half boots in swade. Famous for being smart and a A+ STUDENT. we all knew he was going places. got accepted at SHIRAZ university, which was an achievement by itself, and went away. We used to write long letters, he used to come back for surprise visits. He had this beautiful BMW, so after he moved back to Tehran, because of his fathers illness, we used to double date, MAGGIE and LIISA. I remember how once we were almost caught Parking, and necking with our girls. Liisa and I in the back, Fereydon and Maggie in the front. well, those were the days, I wrote a poem for him, THE GIGOLO AND POET SOLDIER, which I probably post next........... It is so nice to have him in my life, although he still keeps many things inside, being a very private person. Here is to you, My Gigolo......

Posted by Idinraha at 10:11 AM | Comments (3)

January 28, 2005

Rainbow Spoons

With her long fingers
She makes wooden cages,
with no doors, selling
Them to the birds,
Every spring of every harvest,
She paints her fields, with
Red onions, Yellow corns,
In small patches, and
Beside every window, she
Draws suflowers in bloom

Long limbs, long arms, she
Claims the trees, in their autum
And climb the branches, painting
Leaves in green, making a nest
Where the branches thicken, stuffing
Them with cotton balls, and the sun she
Draws in gold warm rounding circles,
Against the sky, waiting for the birds

Slicing Onions, carrots, and celerys,
Adding spices, her witchery, she
Makes soups, the steam warms the
Kitchen, and as we sit with our
Rainbow spoons, she brings bread,
Feeding us, spoon to spoon, cleaning
The dripps from our chins

She makes me notebooks, Pasting
The cover , with an orange whole
And trough the pages, she leaves
Me, mirrors,windows,and doors, old
Wedding pictures, doorknobs,
Candles, baskets of fruites, palm
Trees, and the peeled ornage, adorns the back

Posted by Idinraha at 01:45 PM | Comments (0)

-Necromantic Midnight By Metalnymph

A fleeting picture of innocence
Suspended on delicate strings
Tied noose-like she dangles
From broken limbs tangled
Mouth open in Death's frozen scream

Macabre dancing
His gruesome obsession
Pulling strings of the dead
As they wilt
Icy vision now frozen
Behind eyelids forced open
Hollow windows of torture
Shine guilt

Cruel damage cuts short sinless beauty
Chalk white corpse cast to dance on display
Tasting forged scarlet lips
Who lick back like a trick
Holding prisoner for filthy escape

He dresses her cold lifeless form
Shrouding death vainly
Craving her warm
Prancing on in delight
As she grants not a fight
For a wicked exhibit
Come to bestial fight

Bids the moon with vicious intentions
Fixing eyes sick with love
To cold stares
Posed crude she ignites
-Necromantic Midnight-
Adoring flesh with intimate care

Finding solace in Death's cold embrace
Kissing sweetly her soft waxen face
One more name on the wall
Of the beauties who fall
For Necromancer's display, a
Carnal love for decay

Posted by Idinraha at 12:12 PM | Comments (0)

Beauty

What is beauty, and why are we so infatuated by it, in any form,-Socrates says man's greatest achivement and what he strives for is happiness. is finding beauty, and capturing it, a way to happiness, and how do we get to evaluate beauty, when we dont even see everything with the same eyes. Is finding and seeing and capturing beauty more of a very personal endaver. I have talked a lot with LIISA, about this subject. She is very artistic, being a painter, she has the eyes for colors, and a great affinity to find beauty in eveything. Recently she sent me small hard cover note book. the cover is greenish gold, and she pasted a picture of a Oronge whole with the stem, on the cover, inside the cover, she pasted a picture of a mirror, and a glass door, and almost every page, is decorated by small pictures of Half full glass of water, a door knob, old frame picture, a perfume bottle, canddles, lamps, ....on and on, one picture for almost every page, and then on the back cover, there is picture of an orange peeld. she has seen the beauty in every picture she has pasted in that note book, and it all has initiated by a beautiful tender thought, to find the note book, paste , every picture, then she probably smiled after all done, and her face at that moment, a perfect picture of beauty, with stisfied blue eyes,she probably took a deep breathe, knowing she had created many inspirations for me, so I could see all that and write. I wrote a poem when I saw the note book. RAINBOW SPOONS, which I will post today, in a way Liisa achieved what she intended. THANKS lIISA FOR YOUR EVER PRESENT GIFTS OF LIFE. My friend METAL, has accepted my invitation and today I will post one of her poems, for my pleasure and yours, feel free to comment about it, she would appriciate your comments. We play Musical beds in our house, this morning Amin came and laid next to me, asking for a hug and a massage, I held him in my arms half sleep, he is a big boy now, with big arms and legs, but he melts in my arms, no bones, all flesh, all loving, he closed his eyes as I worked his hands, arms and legs, half sleep myself, then after a while he left. I turned and worked on my wife's back, and shooulders and neck, easy and gentle, she got closer, and as I massaged, she stretched, and then got up for her shower, then , I made my way to Kiana's room, laid next to her, spooning her little frame, she put her head on my arm, and we both fell back to sleep. We hug a lot in our house, kiss a lot, and that's beautiful. HMMMMM please drop me a comment about what you find beautiful, remember it take two to Tango, and three to cha cha............

Posted by Idinraha at 10:38 AM | Comments (1)

January 27, 2005

Movies and pop corn,

Have you heared the new advertising for the movie, MILLION DOLLAR BABY, its starts with the voice of Morgan Freeman, and what a voice it is, and what he says, the pich of his voice,......it takes me, he is the ultimate Actor, with a face that allows him to play a killer, somehow funny killer, in NURSE BETTY, to play GOD, in BRUCE ALLMIGHTY, and a tragic figuer in UNFORGIVEN. incidently they are all great movies, highly recomended. I have heard, and read great reviews, for MILLION DOLLAR BABY,...CLINT EASTWOOD, has become probably one of the most prolific, Directors, ARTIST , of modern American Cinema. From PLAY MISTY FOR ME, his first directorial debut, to THIGHT ROPE, UNFORGIVEN, MYSTIC RIVER, and his new movie, he has covered a wealth of subject, and stories. He is nominated this year, for his movie, as an actor, director, and producer. I also like to note that he has written the original music for the movie himself. He is an accomplished composer, and if you can get his little Gem of a movie, HONKY TONK MAN, he does sing also. I was also afforded the pleasure of watching the movie, SEXY BEAST again. It is not an easy movie to watch, but watch it for the sake of watching BEN KINGSLEY, playing against the type, the role of a crased killer. he will leave you in awe, and the last sene, is a hoot, recomended highly for my friend,METAL, you will enjoy it. And as long as we are talking movies, TALK TO HER, YOU MAMA TAMBIEN, and THE SCENT OF GREEN PAPAYAS, ARE ALSO FABILOUS PICTURES. There are great reviews for SIDEWAYS, it deals with angst and experiences of every day living for the over the FOURTY crowd, like us. so happy trails, you get the pop corn and I bring the movies. I will be interested to know if any one of you , have a favorite movie, and your recomendations also. Its Thursday morning here, I am sitting in my office, smoking my cigar, the window is open, and clean, cold air rushes in. I do enjoy the cold wethear,.......most every night after I drop my dad at his house, I put the heater on full blast, open the windows of my car, and cleanse me, with fresh, cold , crisp, evening air, its exhularating, I recomend it highly, Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Posted by Idinraha at 09:41 AM | Comments (2)

January 26, 2005

Disrobbing in public

well, so fscinating, so increadibly interesting, and such beautifull words of acceptance, I am greatfull,.......well, we have a new visitor, she is a very talented, twisted soul, she writes under METALNYMPH, and post her works, on POETS.COM. Her poetry is unique, fascinating, and brutally honest,she is my favorite poet on Poets.com . She has inspired me, and you could even trace her influence in some of my latest pieces. She has left two generous, kind comments for me, and I recomend reading them, they are posted. I hope she visits often and if she permits me, I would love to post some of her work here. wow, this has been such progress, ...I am elated...and encouraged. thanks METAL

Posted by Idinraha at 04:27 PM | Comments (0)

The hour of Wolves

At the witching hour
Its the scent of blood,
That calls, carried on wind
Of a thousand mischief, the
Hunger of the pinks, the
Rosey cheecks of the reds,'
I am tender, I ache, every
Bone, pulling the roots of
Every muscle, I am left, restless

At the hour of the wolves,
When my fangs extend, portruding
Beyound my teeth, and my limbs, tear
AT their hard edges, careless,
Brazen and bloated, I stand outside,
And yelp, howling to the calls of the beast,
Crawling on fours, sniffing the grass,
As my skin drags the damp soil spread,
And the moon lost amongst the trees, eager
I find the coarpse, the bones picked, and
Bared, as the scent of the kill hangs,
Cured sour, in the air, I find the
Traces of your paws, lay down and wait,
For you to come back

Posted by Idinraha at 03:22 PM | Comments (0)

Daily bread and discretions

You are here, living your life,
You are taller now, moving on your toes
Around nervously, as you talk,
And I have known , that I can hold you
And I have cut your skin, cracked your skull,
But to no avail, I have never been inside you,
And for me, the whore of sutured skins, open
To infidilities, and copulations, in crowded places
Across from tables, covered by beer bottles and cigarettes.
LOVE HAS BEEN A PARADOX, IN SHADOWS AND LIGHTS,
Breathlessly coarsed, climaxed, and intercoursed

Me-with no panties, no bras, nipples aching against my shirt
Me-humid, and damp, smelling the sex I play in my head, and limbs
Me-the bride of old matresses, and hallway empty couplings,
Leaning against your cock, holding it inside,
Me-the greedy femme, who never passed up,
The left overs and the left outs
Forcing my lips, my tongue, on you, lapping on your skin
On my knees, hands, all fours, ftorced, trampled and left

We make an interesting pair, you and I
As we share life and cigarettes,
Aches, hurts, and joys, in little dried pieces
That only e know how to chew on, in tuxedo shirts,
But always bare, shoeless, while we cross all we can
As we age, and still can't find a way
To avoid our daily bread, and discretions

Posted by Idinraha at 01:09 PM | Comments (5)

Dreaded Spaces

Dreaded spaces,
The gap, the air
Between us, as we
Stand proper

Shaking hands,
As my eyes reach,
And the touch that awakens,
As your scent flows across,
And your voice, the air
Flowing to sounds, as it
Caresses the supple red of your lips,
Leaving traces on its skin

And the hand, I let go
As I try to get closer
Greeting you

Posted by Idinraha at 12:56 PM | Comments (0)

My Boy Blue

I have accepted, so far to reach,
he will not speak, as his eyes
murmur pain, he walks faster,
Stays less still, like a moving target
Afraid of the next blow, and every window
Is a serene opening to his outside, where
Only the road is the destination, alone

We share loneliness,
In little morsels, when locked
In a stare, or reaching for the same,
Playing hide and seek, with what
We know of ourselves, and yet, drink
The morning coffee, drive to work,
And pretened , that this is another day,
Although we know, everything stays the same,
Everything always stays the same, so
We kiss our kids goodnight, sleep
With a stranger in our bed, alone,
As the images rush against the closed eyes,
Colors bleed,, into dark, and sleep
Comes in eroded, wounded pieces of quiet
But no rest for the whicked

It's the severity of acceptance,
As we swallow, filling our lungs
With air, for we know the insctints,
of this macabre game, and we stay,

Posted by Idinraha at 10:56 AM | Comments (0)

SNOW, SNOW, and more snow

I like snow, I like the fact that it dissrupts everything here, and shows us, how little we are, with all our technology and brohaha. trapped in our houses, maybe, we get to have a family gathering, talk a little bit,and get out of our every day routines. I was busy yeterday, tired of looking like a pregnant YAK, I started my excercise routine, and by the time I got back to the store, between taking care of customers, getting a haircut, and going to a customer's house, I dont know how the day was past. I also try to make it a practice, not to get on the computer when I am at home. I always have a lot to catch up at home, talking to my beautiful wife, and my two spoilled kids. Today seems to be quiet so far, I am sure because of the snow, we wont have many customers, so I start by posting MY BOY BLUE, I read it to Marjan, she cried, well it is a sad poem, but there is always an opening, for all of us. Maryam, my sister, has left a message, asking why I did not post anything yesterday, and has threatened to cancel his subscription to the site. My appologies and since she is our only reader so far beside, the usuall suspects, CYRUS, and FEREYDOON. I can not afford to lose her. So here I go posting a few. I also like to ask, my three readers, or any one else that might pass this site, to leave a comment, telling me, which poem so far is their favorite. I think I know which ones my two horney friend will pick, but maybe they surprise me,..............

Posted by Idinraha at 10:33 AM | Comments (2)

January 24, 2005

Monday, Monday

well, begining of the week, Cyrus is back, he chickened out posting the message i left for him on his site, but he is alive and kicking, back from snow boarding, sounds, cold. I got a beautiful letter from Liisa, and I tell you, you have not recieved a real letter, untill you get one from Liisa. She has the most innovative ways of getting papers, and arranging letters that you ever see. There was also a poem enclosed from Aila, she is Liisa's thirteen years old daughter. I posted the poem and emailed her a thank you letter, then called Liisa and woke her up early, at 11; a.m. Can you believe that , the sleep monger, and we had a great talk. Cyrus is helping me again, in making a site for the store, so we talked a bit, and then it was customers, and business. Its been a long day, it went so fast though. the poem I wrote for Anthony, MY BOY BLUE, is getting great reviews, and I will post it here tomorrow. well, I will be heading home soon to spend some time with my beauties

Posted by Idinraha at 05:24 PM | Comments (1)

TV a poem by Aila

TV, it brings comfort,
And joy to its eager watchers

It hypnotizes, and divides,
As people lose their minds

It alone remains moving while
Everything else is still,
Like its watcher's minds

It drags you back to reality,
Then floats you up to the clouds,
Witha click of a button, and
Change of a channel

The machine caring for
And raising our people,
The machine dictating
Our moods, and our thoughs,
Is the TV

Posted by Idinraha at 03:58 PM | Comments (2)

January 23, 2005

its been a quiet day

Cant shut me up, yes can not, as Amin one day told me after I asked him to stop talking, " I know dad, but I can not help it", Well, Cyrus has been AWOL, the store is quiet, I wrote a new piece, MY BOY BLUE, probably dedicated to ANTHONY. I asked him last week How everything was, and he said; "everything is the same, everything is always the same,". there was a certain melonchaly, in the way he said it. He semms trapped. pushing against the wall. I dont know, we are buddies, but he never says much, its like pulling teeth with him. But he knows, whatever he does, its allright with me, as long as he is happy, MY BOY BLUE. store is quiet, its very cold outside, we probably had two feet of snow so far, so every body is at home, staying warm, and I probably should go home too. already am missing Marjans smile, Kianas effervesant prsence, and Amin's cooky behavior. I think, the rejection letter , was a sweet dagger, in my back, and its poison has struck me hard. this morning I was thinking , what is the use of all this. putting the pen to paper, sitting in front of the laptop, and making an ass of myself. but thats what I do, thats who I am, and what I know to do. this little strip tease I do every day, under the light and all the exposer it brings me, I am addicted, to watch and tell,..............so0 no used trying to make sense of it, just do it. when it is as necessary as breathing to me, I just do it,......

Posted by Idinraha at 03:59 PM | Comments (0)

Rejction letter

well got a rejection letter, from Tin House. Its interesting, how I tried to deal with it, it is very personal, like showing off your kids, and someone telling you, they dont measure up, AHHHHHH,...but I am a big boy , so I should let it roll off my back, and I will, probably will send the same editor, more, but different pieces, you never know....Hope springs eternal, and how badly we need, I need to be accepted, affirmed and encouraged, I do get wonderful reviews on Poets.com, but, getting published, is all another stroy. we have wonderfull snow up here, I am at work, NO REST FOR THE WICKED, AS THEY SAY,....BUT i AM GOING TO STOP FEELING sorry FOR MYSELF AND GET ON THE HOARSE AGAIN,......and again,,,,,,,,AHHHHHHH, and i should mention that business is picking up beautifully, so thanks God, and Kiana, my problem solver

Posted by Idinraha at 10:45 AM | Comments (3)

January 22, 2005

Snow in connecticut

well, Staurday morning, we are going to be snowed up to our.....they say, 18 to 24", THAT SHOULD BE FUN, THA TEMRETURE IS ABOUT 2F, i BET CYRUS WOULD LIKE THAT,... there is calmness about snow, it covers everything, and slows us down, I could stay home, take a nap, just walk around the house and lay down with my beauties, Marjan, Kiana and Amin. yesterday we were busy at the store,which makes evey one happy. I am getting great reviews for most of the recent ones I posted, specially KISSME, KISSME, since every one at the POETS.COM, thinks that the author is a woman, the comments boder on propositions, of the dangerous kind, it is funny, one guy had written, " WOMAN, HOW DO YOU EXPECT A MAN READ THIS POEM, AND NOT GO CRAZY,", little he knows. Well, have not talked to Ferry or Cyrus yesterday, maybe I will catch them today,.....for now

Posted by Idinraha at 09:21 AM | Comments (2)

January 21, 2005

Love letter, to Marjan travelling

I am limping these days,
And the ground under my feet, seems a bit tilted,
And when I inhale, there is a certain emptiness that fills my lungs,
The house is lonely, the kitchen quiet, and the colors that have
Brought a certain life to the walls , are duller.....

I miss getting up in the morning, with you standing
In front of the mirror, getting prettier,
I miss the sound of your laughter,
And all the confidence you bring to me and my life,

But I take a certain comfort in being home,
It seems by being here, I am closer to you,
And evrything you love, The little nooks and crannys,
The pots and pans, the flowers, and everything of you,
That makes this station a home,
Hurry back,

Posted by Idinraha at 11:51 AM | Comments (0)

Salad recipe

Well my Gorgeous wife, Marjan, makes me a special salad, every night, in a big bowl, and also one smaller for herself, last night, the salad, was so big that we both had a work out eating it. It's a wonderfully refreshing dish, and I like to share the recipe with all of you and recomend trying it, it is so good that you might be awarded afterward, and take a swim too !!, take a large bowl, get some lettuce, romain preffered, tomatoes, cucumbers, walnuts, branberrys, green apple, Onions, celery, raisins, and PIAZCHE, CUT them all in different porportion, depending on youer like and dislikes, put them all in the bowl, add olive oil, and lemon juice, and sprinkle some graded cheese, and YUMMY LAND REVISITED, you have a wonderfull tasting salad, that is a complete meal, from protoen, to good carbs, it has it all. so try it and let me know,..........I am in a sharing mood today

Posted by Idinraha at 10:07 AM | Comments (1)

Morning glory

There are actually muffines, named after my title, well, well, Fereydon has thrown caution in the wind, and admitted to our little get togethers, at his house, with the door open, while I was trying to take a peek at his breasts. as it is explained, in poem, CURIOS NOVICES, I recieved a comment from him that he remembers it too, well now we have two males in this site, with MANBREASTS problem, the author, which brazenly have written a poem MY DEBUTANTES, ode to my breasts, and FEREYDON , who has admitted about our teenage petting, anf how he used to let me kiss his belly, try to peek at his breasts and let me put my hands,......... well, just a warning. I have decided to change my view about SLEEPING, and SLEEPING HABITS. Before this I always looked at sleeping, as a boring waisted activity, LITTLE PIECES OF DEATH, as HERMAN HESS, has described it in STEPPEN WOLFE,. but I will try to adhere to our commander in chief, My dear W, my main man, and homey, Mr, George W. Bush. and his habit of sleeping at least eight hours a night. I think lots of us should do that.We all suffer in one form or another from Lack of sleep in this country. So, my recommendation is, specially in case of CYRUS, since he likes to swim after sex, to forego having sex in the evening, or have it without swiming afterward, or maybe have it in the pool, go for one lap, and then get to bed, at a certain hour , every night, make your bedroom, quiet, clean, and pretty, no TVs in the bedroom. talk to your mate, even it all have to be, YES HONEY, OKAY HONEY, I TRY HARDER NEXT TIME!!, or, FORGIVE ME,.then kiss her or him, good night and go to sleep. This will be tougher in case of Fereydon, since, he is single and a certified SLUT, not knowing where he sleeps, every night, and whom does he sleep with, and in what language should he talk to her, or him. any way, try, and try to take my advice, so you get up in the mornig,with your mornign glory in full attention............... hmmmm, nobody's laughing

Posted by Idinraha at 09:25 AM | Comments (0)

January 20, 2005

Curios novices

Of you,
I remember
The blue
Of your eyes,
And the supple
Red of your lips

Laying down
On your bed,
In your room,
With the door open,
Kissing your belly,
Trying for a peek
At your breasts

Holding you,
My fingers
Tripping down,
The cotton feel
Of your panties,
Reaching for your sex,
As you quiver

Curios novices,
Trying to learn the ropes,
Finding our steps,
Tip yoeing in a new territory

Posted by Idinraha at 04:29 PM | Comments (1)

Dance

It's cold on the roof,
The night extends quiet,
He walks to the mannequin,
Asking her to dance,
She turns her head up,
In an angle sudden

He pulls her up,
She struggles,
Putting one hand
Around her waist,
Pulling her other
Hand up

He lifts her
Close, and dance,
A bow breaks in distance,
As the sky tilts a bit
Inside his head

Posted by Idinraha at 04:20 PM | Comments (0)

Sisters in the nude ( to my lover's wife)

You see-we are sisters,
Bedding the same man,
You own him, and I rent,
In cluster of times, where
We find ourselves in motel rooms,
Undress quietly, and fuck all afternoon

He is our little boy,
I think, while he puts his
Head in my lap, and I stroke his hair,
He comes to me to play, for mischief,
And I let him, thinking about
The one I have at home,

We both play our roles,
You in a apron, in the kitchen,
Me, in a neglige, in bed
He does not spend a night with me,
He does not fuck you in the afternoon
You see-you are his mother,
And I am his toy

Posted by Idinraha at 04:08 PM | Comments (0)

Walking in Saigon

It's the rainy season,
The air is damp, humid,
Walking in Saigon,
Sergeant, bought white Lotuses
From a girl selling them,
She did not look up,
As he passed her the money,
Pushing it in her pocket

He walked in the restaurant
Saw her, recognised her
From her picture,
Walked to the table,
Said "hello", she noded,
She did not talk english,
He could not remember,
The words bounced in his head,
As he sat down, Lotuses in his hand

"This is where I met your mother",
He said, in broken vietnamese,
Trying to find the words
For "war", "I did not know",
And "sorry", in his head,
He handed her the Lotuses
An sat back, exhusted
From the window,
He could see the
Flower girl, walking on

Posted by Idinraha at 03:22 PM | Comments (0)

She sleeps safe

She sleeps safe,
On her side, profiled
On the bed, her blue eyes rest,
Her red lips contrasting
The pillow's white, bent
With her thighs up, in
An angle, her arms extended,
In a same line, her fingers
Folded in, inside her holding
Hands, toward the soft flesh of
Her belly, as the tips of her fingers
Nest against her palm, kept warm safe,
Wearing her extremities like a shield,
keeping the outside away, covered
In flanel pyjamas, thick wollen socks,
While she dreams of sun flowers in yellow,
The glassy red seeds of coral trees, in Kenya,
And her green Africa

Posted by Idinraha at 03:06 PM | Comments (0)

throughing stones

The doors are locked, front and back, the windows, shut, I ring the bell, knock, with fist, open hands, ....there should be a respond, somebody should be home, I run around the house, sing, rant, yell and scream,..................there should be a respond, I know she lives safe, I know she is scared, she knows, she does know as she reads these papers, where she resides , no angels thread, and the little prince, Fox and the snake, have left, she lives a careful live, always scared, in denial, exposed, and bare, in submission, violated, she told me, she did say, but she is scared. I have held her in my arms, and she has fed of me, she knows, she can take, she can stay,...but she is scared, she always is, and I know I can reach her, when I trough my papers in the wind, i know my words will reach her, and i enjoy her angst, her silence, as hungry as she is, she can not eat, and i hold the plate, close , so close, but she knows, she is scared. she know I see her, I know her, " YOU KNOW TOO MUCH, YOU SEE TOO MUCH, " , she used to say,....................................

Posted by Idinraha at 11:59 AM | Comments (1)

My beautiful predator ( the surgeon, tool box,and the corpse)

Your gentle ways, elude
Your angst, my beautiful predator,
Your clipped nails, creamy skin,
The way you walk, in measured steps,
The pitch of your voice, that asks
The listener to get closer, intimate
With your scent, and your lips, thin
As they are, the angle of your nose,
Carefully set in the middle of your face
Like a core that centers, your soft chin,
And forehead,symmetrically approximate,
All, tell of the nobility of your blood,
And the spoon you were fed

Your middle aged, long forehead,
Even the color of your hair,
Placidly brown, red, bordering
on hues of insifigance, your demeanor,
Your bored gray pants, navy jackets,
Ralph Lauren ties, academic brouhaha,
And Harvard educated accent, and yet
The angst, the rage, that flows red
In your blue veins, my charming prince

But alone, disrobed, when
Your thin bones, covered by
Your hailess skin, comes to view,
When deprived of all that covers
Your hide, your thorns, weeded all
Over your soul, comes through,
The hook, and the whip, the nails,
And the hammer, and you the surgeon
that has to cut, penetrate, and dissect
Your ghosts and demons, all in my bed,
With my corpse

And me, your love, your wife,
The woman you married, your muse,
The gate keeper, naked from the
Latex of your latest excuses,
Numbed by the predictability of you,
Closed eyes beauty of yester years,
Made up, dolled up, the way you need,
Ready for intercourse, as you open
Your tool box, and come to bed

Sitting on my chest for a fellatio,
Mounting me, missionary, doggy style,
Front, back, on the sides, every cavity,
Orifice, and poures, with your erect
Penis, your manhood, your cock, as our
bodies barely touch, with no kisses,
You calim you right, and once again
Exercise your power.

Posted by Idinraha at 11:19 AM | Comments (1)

Kiss me, Kiss me,

Kiss me, kiss me,
Aprehensive, shy,
Your breathe, inviting,
Your lips,flesh mongers,
Take me, closed eyes, bare,
pecking, soft, the skin above
My lips, under, pulling gently
Shy,open mouth,
-You inside,
Exposed to me,
My breathe, inside
Your tongue,
-The trespassing juvenile,
Moist,
As you hold my head, my neck
Against your palm, pulling
Me closer to you, your lips,
The flesh mongers, your tongue,
Tempered, raw,heaving in me,
Texured pink, and the taste of you,
your mouth, opening me, pulling
me, ever closer, in a locked breathe
Bolting electric, all the way to my center
Where the eager mermaid, awakes,
Humid eyes, all spices, and glee
The greedy femme,
Kiss me, kiss me

Posted by Idinraha at 11:02 AM | Comments (0)

Life as I know it

well, business is picking up, and I am having less time to post ,but I will find time, I was thanking Cyrus yesterday, telling him, how he is saving me THERAPY money. Its amazing, that human body, is programed physically to take in nourishment and process it for its needs, and get the excess out. I think, the same thing should be done by our brain. we take in, inhale,images, discussions,emotions, but we are not careful, how we should get the excess out. So we get blocked, consipated, and many people, are emotionally consipated. Thats when the problems arise, with cluttered emotional arteries, we wont be able to process our emotions, our insight, properly , leading, to DEPRESSIONS, and many more maladies. I on the other hand, veteran of a few big scary depressions, have emotional Diehria, It works for me, I try to be honest about how I feel with people around me, men, or women, I love honestly, I express myself honestly, for me its the only way, when I need a hug, I ask for it, whenn I need to cry , I cry. They might call me THE FLAMING STRAIGHT GUY, and thats ok, I know who I am. Maryam left me a flattering comment. I appriciate that, it will make me, post more poems, and rants, now that I know I have at least three readers. Cyrus,(wheather he likes it or not), Fereydon,my man in the mirror, and now my sister, Maryam. I wrote two poems yesterday, which I will post them today, KISS ME, KISS ME, and MY BEAUTIFUL PREDATOR,...... YOU SEE, THE ECHOES ARE COMING BACK jAVAD , JUST BE PATIENT, .........hello

Posted by Idinraha at 10:02 AM | Comments (0)

January 19, 2005

feeling exposed

eh, just wrote a tough poem, emotionally draining. MY BEAUTIFUL PREDETOR. Then I had cyrus to review it, he also helped correccting the words, and misspellings, so it is a cooperative effort. I was telling him, how most people, live a very carefull emotional life. they close their eyes, they dont say any words, and they try not to feel anything, they are basically closed up. On the other hand, I need to see people, talk to them, get inside their head.i,e (CORNIVORES POETES, which explains that process in very graphic terms). then I have to get myself open to their pain, allow it to inspire me, and effect me, so I can write. Yesterday I also had a good talk with Fereydon, about the necassity and pleasures of INTERSOURSE, for men. I am of the opinion that the act of intercourse serves as a Power Play for men, that is the reason that women, enjoy FOREPLAY, much more, but men, need to exercise their anatomycal rights and intercourse, in a way, they invade or conquare. by the simple mechanics of the act. I think that discussion, had a lot to do with the piece I wrote this morning. I found it some, this morning in the shower, and stayed in my head through out my drive to work and then, it was sppiled out. Any way it is now posted on Poets.com, and probably soon I will have it posted here. As you can see some of my rants and poems are, adult oriented, since we , my friends and I, do live in an adult world, and are presumably adults, however, how immature , or mature emotionaly, that's whole another story,..........I thin I here an echoe....

Posted by Idinraha at 11:10 AM | Comments (1)

January 18, 2005

Long time ago, I watched a great movie, called, Two for the road, I think, Mike Nichols made it, with Audrey Hepburn, and Albert Finney, it is a great movie, probably made in late sixties, look it up, its highly recommended, its about the life of this couple, showcasing mostly their travels with car through out Europe, it has great scenery and dialogue. It shows how their relationship, evolves and matures through the time. I have always been a sucker for any movie with Audrey, and I think, she is one of the most beautiful actresses that lived. she is always, refreshingly graceful, and elegant. When I met Marjan, the way she carried herself, her style, and grace , and beauty, reminded me so much of Audrey Hepburn, she also has a beautiful neck and angular face, like Hepburn. Any way, I just posted a poem, titled, Audrey Hepburn and Albert Finney, it is dedicated to my beautiful, graceful, elegant wife, Marjan.

Posted by Idinraha at 10:55 AM | Comments (0)

Audrey Hepburn, and Albert Finney

She is my Audry Hepburn,
Tall, skinney, long neck,
Angular face, short hair,
Wide eyes, high cheek bones,
My petite, fashion model
My star

I am her Albert Finney
Full hair, stocky, square,
With a deep voice, and a big face,
I am the dreamer, the talker,
The poet

And we drive,
On this road, passing time,
Together, apart, talking about life
Marriage, boredom, our kids,
We have been at it for a while

Comfortable in our skins,
I drive, she in passenger seat,
With sunglasses on, her scarf,
We fight big, kiss long,
And once in a while,
-I call her a bitch,
And she calls me a bastard,
I am the poet, she is the star

Posted by Idinraha at 10:35 AM | Comments (4)

Shylock's satisfaction

Seclusion in winter
Dusted white, cold to touch,
The ground in slumber, forgiving not
The sun's shering rays, that eludes it
Ice Jagged deeper, pressing as it extends
The reign of Polar ghosts, adrift the season

Oh Shylock, cherish the hate, as it's
Crimson head mates your bed, your pound
Of flesh, to sink your teeth, and may
Your thirst besiege you as you claim your
Light for mere more steps, upon this stage
Oh Shylock, wash your face, and let the
Severity of your pain, and illusions of
This grandeur shines clear on your skin
As you caress your face, pulling your beard

For you know the jest of this game, as
You rang the bell, waiting for the echoes
Of discontent, passing your way, to afront
Their mockings and smirks, of a velvet hat
You were purchased, worn by days of trade,
The merchants, the dieties, the profits
Of the golden rule, spread in divinity
Of your sin, your promise

So allow the dagger
As you kiss her sweet face,
Break the skin, and the flesh,
With your eyes in candor, searching,
You will be delivered your winter,
Like the jagged frozen mist, that hurls
Within the earth, forever is at hand, and
The satisfaction gained

Posted by Idinraha at 10:08 AM | Comments (0)

got up early today, its very cold here, got myself to the gym,I had n't exerised for a few days, and needed it bad. Saw Anthony, he is my other MANCRUSH, he greeted me witha smile. Anthony is very much like Cyrus, very good looking, quiet and serene all the time, I have known him for at least seven years. He puts up with me the way Cyrus used to. he is a good man, and has a tender soul. It is such a pleasure to know him, and have him in my life. Any way I asked him how every thing is , and in his own way, he answered. things are the sames. THINGS ARE ALWAYS THE SAME.So I sweat a bit and felt much better. Came to the store, found DIDO's CD, and sat to write. I will try to post Shylock's Satisfaction, today, he is tragic figure from shakespear's Merchant Of Venise. I like the piece a lot and incidently there is a movie out with the same name, with Al Pacino, playing Shylock, highly recomended. Dido 's songs always inspire me, it a great CD, beautiful songs, (all the songs on the CD are good, which is a rarity), with amazing Lyric. another recomendation. so lets start the day.............., Oh, the poem I had a dream, of Martin, got great reviews, on Poets.com, I probably post it soon.

Posted by Idinraha at 09:44 AM | Comments (0)

January 17, 2005

Martin Luther King's day, this morning, I woke up, with the idea of writing a piece, about Martin, - could not wait to get to the store and write it down, my head was filled with different posibilities, words, metaphors, it had to be simple and direct, the language should be contemporary. so I got to the store and wrote it, posted it on POETS.COM, and then it scared me, it was strong and political, and it was born to carry on its own, usually late term abbortions in these cases do not work, the piece is alive, living in its pink, breathing skin, and you, the author, look at this formed, shaped mass of words, ready to fly away, and as Ms, Bronte says, " THE WORD IS DEAD, WHEN IT IS SAID, SOME SAY, ... I SAY, IT JUST BEGINS TO LIVE THAT DAY." hMMM, ANYWAY, I ASKED ONE OF MY HOMEYS AT POETS.COM, TO REVIEW IT. SHE WAS NOT AROUND YET, SO I FOUND, my man in the mirror FEREYDON, on the IM, he reviewed it, and calmed me dow, so, it is there and probably at some point, I will post it here. after I rewrite, thighten and rewrite it again to my satisfaction. we had a nice talk, with Fery, TTHERE IS STILL HOPE FOR HIM,!!!, I gave him some homework, well if any body else is interested, pls, read, BRIDGE ACROSS FOREVER, and watch the movie- TALK TO HER ,. Posting and building this web page is taking lots of my time, I enjoy it a lot, but I am dying to write, a few more poems, so, I CAN GO THERE,.............................

Posted by Idinraha at 11:10 AM | Comments (0)

January 16, 2005

Little girl grown

Little girl grown,
Standing in the mirror,
Watching her self, all bared,
Her beauty shines, displayed

Her nipples peek, strawberry brown,
Erect by thoughts of a touch,
Pretencious juveniles, shy,
Supple, eager for a kiss

She lays beneath her sheet,
Little Prince, Fox, and snake,
Ploting under her bed, reaching
Taking her on a dream,
That leaves her breathless,
As the night spreads its veil,
And the silence ebbs

Damp and tangled,
In a trance, the intruder
Moves in, brushing her thighs,
With a breathe, moist and wanton
She aches, slithering fingers,
Licked to the bones, slide and reach,
Out of breathe, unkempt, she is laid,
Spread, the hood awakes in unrest

The serpent troughs a fit,
Hisses the air, comes for a kill,
Knowing, sereene, genteel,
Stepping lightly, pushes ahead,
His hands, under her limbs,
He lifts the maiden's hips
Looking at the supple spread,
The sight burdened by her scent
Brings the beast to tears,
As he nibbles the heaving mount,
Between his tongue, and his lips,
Blowing at the layers deep,
Brings the flesh to its peak,
Till her back arched, her hair spent,
She yelps, shivers to a calm

Posted by Idinraha at 02:49 PM | Comments (0)

Sunday, sunday

well, sunday, sunday, at work, NO REST FOR THE WICKED, as they say. got a comment from my pretty niece, Hana, which, I posted, and another from my sister,MARYAM, and her sentiments about her gender, and how she wishes that she had a pair,when she was younger. well my dear we always thought that you had a big pair. Fereydon, left a comment, and a poem, he wrote for MAGGIE. MAGGIE was a friend from our days in TEHRAN, she was also fEREYDON'S GIRLFRIEND. Maggie left a big impression on all of us, by her beauty, size and kindness, and of course a bigger one on fereydon, the poem is posted under on of the comments for now, untill Cyrus shows me how to post it as a poem.

Posted by Idinraha at 02:33 PM | Comments (1)

January 15, 2005

Mouthing a silent "hi"

It comes to me in
A black and white movie,
As the projector screeches,
And the yellow tint engulfs the screen,
Turning to a webb of black lines,
Reeling against the yellow white,
And then, my mother with black hair,
Contrasting, her white skin,
-Beautiful, the way mothers always are,
Wobbles close to the lenz, turns her
Head, and mouthes a silent "hi"

The camera jerks right, and there
I can see my brother, on his tricycle,
Moving away from the scene, in fast
Motion, shaking his hand, with a smile,
Then there is me, shorter than I remember,
carying my square head, walking to my mother,
Holding her skirt, and she bends down,
Picking me up, holding my face, next to her
As we both smile sheepishly

My father hands the camera to my mom
After she puts me down, and then, he
Comes to view, balding young man, wearing
White under shirt, with his big arms, extending,
His face , so much of the face, my brother has now,
Strong cheek bones, angular nose, and kind brown eyes,
Showing off his first house, -the brick dwelling,
One bedroom, sarounded by brick walls, and a yard
That fits patches of flowers, around a small
Shallow pool. ( the scent of dust, and soil,
Just brushed clean, by water fills my head)

I run around the yard, screaming, then
He pick us up, both, my brother and I,
Telling us to wave, and as we do,
The image stops, with the picture,
Reeling side to side, and the black
Webb of lines hurry over the yellow
White, the film rattles around.
I take a deep breathe, sitting still.
Leaning my face, against my palms,
As my eyes, find a window out

Posted by Idinraha at 04:52 PM | Comments (1)

Of the rash discussions

Yes, yes, my sweet charity,
In ducats of thousands, we pay
Hands closing on the eyes shutt,
And the severity of every inhale
Displayed, in town circles,
So the greedy eyes can feast,
And the callous hands can pressure,
Measured, in all tortured angles,
And when the bids are done
We are traded

The apostles of this season,
Of the rash discussions,
We hold in the witching hours,
The collusion of means,
Beyond our dare, so we can
Confirm, that we have been here
Cagebirds, of bones and flesh,
With an eye toward the opens

Posted by Idinraha at 04:38 PM | Comments (0)

weekend revisited

Wow, this is fun, its Saturday, I am at work, serving customers, and in between, I come back to the office, and try to post my poems, some of them are very emotional, and as I go through them, they take a lot from me. the last one I posted-FOR MY LOVER,....., is a very hard piece, very tough to digest, and I dont know how i have come to write it, but it does get to me, maybe I try some lighter one next......But there is such a joy when I push the save button, and make the entry. It seems at that point, they become their own, flying the coup, with me, watching them fly away.

Posted by Idinraha at 03:22 PM | Comments (2)

For my lover, who left before the last supper

Like a witch brewing a recipe
I stir the pot, boiling my guilt,
Like peas, in his soup
Then, folding bedsheets, and towels,
I set them, on the shelf,
While rose water fills the bathtub
I wash your scent from my skin

I carry my cross,
On my shoulders, rushing
Between the bedroom, and the kitchen,
Faster, so I can not remember,
Why I am here, and I have stayed

I set the table,
Serve him dinner,
With you, prowling in my head,
I hold a conversation,
As his lips move,
As I dont hear

I set the bed,
Serving him,
Laid, spread,
Tender, and moist,
Pink, and soft,
Accepting him,
As he mounts me, again
With you prowling in my head,
I close my eyes, as I am handled
Chewed, devoured, and left

Afterward,
I lay sleepless,
You swing in my head
You left your head between my limbs
My fingers looking for you,
Find the keyes, and play
As Mary watches,
-Yelling, betrayed, betrayed,

Posted by Idinraha at 02:44 PM | Comments (0)

Reading Kinnel

Reading Kinnel all morning,
The smell of hickory, and leather
Has engulfed my brain, the sour scent
of the blood, the bear, and his heavy
Breathing, that breaks the wood's hush

He smells of sweat, pungent, mixed
With honey suckle, and syrup, his hands,
dense, rough, around my wrist, as he
Sits me down, across, while I sniff the air,
Looking through his brush wild hair,
Half standing, on his head, four grays,
For every black, few whites, his voice,
Tempos in delibrate pitches, that reaches,
His words, crass in their power, all jagged,
Thorned, braded in tins, and metals, all
Soiled, bloodied warm, from a kill, or hunger,
I am smitten, and raw, feeling each blow

I crawl on all fours,
Finding him, behind his desk,
I nuzzle, his legs, sniff the skin,
And the soft hair, then reach, as the
Words, his voice, the smell of hickory,
And the feel of his woolen pants,
Initiate a tresplass, and a howl

He puts his palm on my head,
Stroking my hair, bringing me to
Submission. As I lay my head on his
Lap, his words, bounce weightless,
In my head, dripping, in hickory sweat, and musk.

Posted by Idinraha at 11:18 AM | Comments (0)

All day , yeterday, I was like a kid, with his first bike, exited, I felt, free, extended, like I could reach, further, further, this is such a liberating tool, I am exited. As ever, due to generosity of Cyrus, making the web page for me, actually allowing me, to co-exit, piggy backing, his site. THANKS Mr. Keaton. I posted some more poetry today. They are a bit deeper, a bit more graphic, as Cyrus would say, the description, is blow by blow. Well, thats the way, I try to paint you images, as percise, as I can, and see. I like to see some comments, I like to know if these convoluted pieces of jagged words, do make a trace on your psyche. In most of the pieces, the focus is relationships, women, and men, how they feel about their exile, their alianation, loneliness, love, and how they come to express that in relation to each other. From Samuel, Jean paul, waiting for Albert, in Paris at noon, (incidehtly, Mahnaz might find that interesting, since, Jean paul used to be one of her favorite philosopher), to The contemporory man's, woman, that comes across, empowered, and calculating, they all are characters, that I have seen, observed, and maybe co-existed with. Am I reaching you,....., hello,.........Hmmmm

Posted by Idinraha at 09:59 AM | Comments (0)

My contemporary man

I let you in
Your eyes soften,
Your body shivers,
As the thorns of your crown
Dig deeper, my homeless prince
I disrobe, and let you in

I try to accept you,
My contemorary man,
Your gray dreams, and
The black guilt,
That cracks your voice,
As you stand, with your head
Bent, benevelont, lost

I see the child,
Standing within your legs,
As it rises, climbing your thighs,
Creeping within you slowly,
Bone to bone, hand , to hand,
Deformed, and unshaped,
He crawls within your chest,
chewing on your heart,
With the instinct of a beast,
And loneliness of a hunter

He sees me with your eyes,
Streatching your hands, touching me,
He licks my skin with your tongue,
Pushing me further, against the wall
Mounts me with your cock,
Lifting my bottocks, with your thighs,
He comes, like a djin that leaves
In a creamy cloud, he comes to exile,
And I let him in

Later, when evening dripps outside
We sit, leaning against the wall,
Then, I get up, holding your hand,
And carry you to bed, comforting
You with the cover, head to toe,
You are done, and I do not need you,
You have come, and I can leave

Posted by Idinraha at 09:43 AM | Comments (0)

Paris at noon

Samuel, pale, long face,
A tall man, sitiing at the bar,
His eyes sinking in his skull,
Straw hair, sleeked back,
Chocking on a cigarette,
Jotting down words,
In angular letters

Next to him, Jean paul,
With matted down hair,
Square faced, deformed,
Much shorter, hanging
To the bar rail, Ordering
Vodka sec, on ice, while
Catching his bad eye
In the mirror

The cafe is dark,
Kinda empty,
Two hookers, on
The other side of the bar,
wait, while talking,
It's only noon outside,
The bar keeper fills
their drinks,
While they wait for Albert

Posted by Idinraha at 09:30 AM | Comments (0)

Carnivores poetes

Could feel my fangs,
Extending inside
The telephone lines, far, far away,
Slithering through her reciever,
Inside the cavity of her ear,
With a bit of novocain
Finding the right nerves-
Numbed her localy, as she talked,
Cut the membranes, layer to layer,
Burned the openings, (so blood wont spatter)

Cut the sak, that held the brain,
And sucked her gray matter,
Her id, her ego, memories,
Some colored, delicious morsels.
Seasoned, scented raw, perfect,
And as the nourishment filled
My blood, the images came,
Leaving me in tears

Posted by Idinraha at 09:20 AM | Comments (1)

Purge

Haven't written anything today,
All day, reviewed strangers' angst
In rhymed sentences, overloaded in sugar
Found a new soul, bounded in lates,
Hunting eyes, she mouthed me a "cunt",
We have the same taste in macabre,
Flirting with life, and death

Feeling bloated, my skin's turning gray
My pulse unsteady, sweet, sweet headaches,
And a devilish need to purge,
Maybe tommorow, yes, yes,
Tomorrow, I will purge

Posted by Idinraha at 08:59 AM | Comments (0)

January 14, 2005

MY DEBUTANTES, Ode to my breasts

Remember, how you interrupted
Me, peeking, pitter patter,
All night, against my skin,
In timid explosions,
Carrying you to my center,
In extended nerve endings,
You made the connections,
Pushing up,

I nourished you, not knowing
With humid dreams, somewhere
South side of innocence, as
The bolts, in electric
Echoes, ran under my skin,
-You alive, blooming in a heap
Of lost tsunamies, crashing
In quivers, shivers
-Touch me,
Touch me, you begged

And the boys found you,
Casting their stare shy,
Catching a glimpse, and
The one, that brushed his hand
-You , happy to be noticed,
peeking, pitter patter, as
I walked tall, in exhibition,
Your proud owner, holding you out,
Crowned in ceremonial jets

I got you the kiss,
I got you bitten, and tongued,
Center stage, I got you naked,
As the boys came for rituals,
-My debutantes, cherishing you,
As we parked, and the electric
Bolts lit the whole sky

Posted by Idinraha at 02:35 PM | Comments (1)

Life in B flat

The last breathe, quiet,
Cigarettes burning in the ashtray
Colors the air, vapors,
The door half open, I wait
The church bells, come the distance
I think of sunday mornings,
reading the psalms

I can see her, in the kitchen
Stirring a pot, chopping onions, carrots
While I sit on the counter,
trying to impress her,by a new piece
She stops, moves her hair from her face
So I can see her eyes, as she corrects me

We talk in our tongues,
Like I know, she does,
We sit in our space,
Time lingers, we drink tea
She takes sugar cubes,
I take mine black
As a dog barks in the distance

Posted by Idinraha at 12:54 PM | Comments (1)

women

My mother, the prettiest woman I know, she was the first one who inspired me, I got my love of reading, and writing from her, she was the one that had to put up with my rhymed pieces, try outs, and rough drafts. she always listened, and encouraged me. There is a poem of mine, that adresses that period, LIFE IN B FLAT, which I will post next.

You would find that, the voice in many of my poems, is of a Woman,a girl. I have always been fascinated by them. Mother, sister, lover, wife, friends, and more than ever now, My Kiana, my daughter. I have a certain gift in observing, and taking the essence of people around me, and bring it to the paper ( oh , So full of myself, I am). So dont be surprised. What I can promise you is variety. I just posted, FOREPLAY, again the voice is of a young girl, any girl, and my curiosity, of how these beautiful creatures, deal with life, and how deep and personal their quest is, How tender, and mature.

Posted by Idinraha at 12:33 PM | Comments (4)

Foreplay

You can't
Just walk in,
You have to be invited,
You have to stand,
Under the balcony,
Nicely groomed,
And talk in soft words,

Then,I might
Come down, open
The door slightly,
And ask to see
Your hands,
And if
I like, the
Touch of
Your palms
Against my cheeks,
And the scent of you
Lingers in my head

I might come out,
Stand by the door,
leaning against its frame,
And look in your eyes,
While you talk close,
Letting me wonder,
looking at you,
As I play with the
Buttons of my blouse

I might reach
For your hand,
And let you in

Posted by Idinraha at 12:20 PM | Comments (0)

Perfect Moon

It's a perfect moon, you said
With your head up, pointing to the sky
I looked, and saw the luminous light
Brightening the sky,
Wow, Kiana said, Amin smiled

Going out for dinner, four of us,
Only us, as Amin says,
And Kiana confirms,nodding
-Two boys, two girls, just perfect,
Got the center table, with white paper cloth,
And Crayons, before long, we were all at it,
You drew a heart, showing your girlish sentiments,
In brigh red, green, stripes of yellow,and polka dots,
With your head down, immersed in inspiraion, quiet

I drew a face, masculine, used grays and blues, strong
Eyes, fierce, carefully shades cheeks, thick, unkempt hair
Trying to impress Kiana, get Amin's attention
Kiana worked on a flower, with large palettes,
In red, yellow core, green stem,
Amin, still in a painter's block, drew the shapes
That ease in, and out, in soft hues, complicated

You ordered your usual, and I made fun of how
disciplined you are, and to my surprise, you
Changed your mind, I was adventoures, you
cautioned me, to have the sauce, on the side,
And I listened, knowing you knew......
The way you always do.

Going back home, we all looked at your moon,
Hanging cautiously, in the sky,
The night was calm, the evening lazy,
And quiet, as we walked the parking lot
To our car, On the way home, I caught
Your hand, leaned over, kissed your cheeck,
"Happy anniversary, my love", I whispered,
Your face opened to a smile.

Next morning , leaving the house,
i caught a glimpse of you, naked,
putting lotion, on you thighs,
Your hair wet, your skin gleaming
Soft, you , somewhere lost, in your ritual,
And as I left the house, I whispered "Perfect"

Posted by Idinraha at 10:59 AM | Comments (2)

Captain, my Captain

Another morning in the office. you should see my desk, God, papers, poetry books, I am in good compony, Galway Kinnel, Anne Sexton, pages and pages of poetry, all scattered, Help- eh, I am all scattered. On the way to the store, I was telling my father, about our conquests in Tehran. He was laughing so hard, he hit his head on the side of the car door. It is so nice, to have him around, and after all these years, there is a comfortable ease between us. I pick him up every morning, he comes to work with me, and drop him every night. We talk a lot, memories, his, mine, we laugh a lot, making fun of my mothers family ( his favorite subject), I think I am blessed to be able to have so much of him. Ode to Cyrus, -get used to this, you gonna hear a lot about him, THE MAN I LOVE,- its okay, for a hetrosexuall married man(18 yrs), who is severely in love with his gorgeous wife, and two kids, to be in Love with Cyrus. Well if you know him, you will too. Its a family thing. He is married to my golden hair aunt MAHNAZ (LUCKY BASTARD), THEIRS IS a story of Love, at its best.(lucky bastards). well Cyrus is a mountain, one should climb with ropes,vast and solid, and if you get accepted by him, and are allowed a climb, once you reach the peak, there is his sun glowing sun, warm, so you can stay, and enjoy the scenery.( Yuck, I usually can write better than this, but, eh, pls, I know better metaphors at least ,Cyrus is a Mountain, Huh) You also gonna hear about, the love of my life-MARJAN, the woman, who has put up with me for eighteen yrs. My peach, beutiful only as Iranian girls can be, and the closest soul to me, (although since we got the king size bed, there are some questions there).there gonna be poems about her , and my two treasures, Amin, my quiet soul, and Kiana, my pretty, effervesount beauty who brings life to me with every kiss,every hug. Then there is LIISA, My commrade, first girlfriend, forever companion, intellectual soul mate, who has and does inspire me,with her creativity, the gentleness of her soul, and compasion. Fereydon, is the man in the mirror, we go back, long long, he is a big part of my past and present, he even has a poem, just for him,( he did thank me for it- very expressive, huh ). well remember this is just a start, I dont wanna over whelm you ( you are not kiddin), I am a lucky man, because of the people, I mentioned, and many more. I decided the first poem I will post would be PERFECT MOON, An ode to Marjan, so lets BOOGIE

Posted by Idinraha at 09:56 AM | Comments (0)

January 13, 2005

GONNA BE A BUMPY RIDE,

well, well ,well, remember , The ox is slow, but earth is patient,
now that you have gotten an idea about my girth, and wisdom (hehe),
I like to remind you of my beloved Cyrus's comment on his site, DON'T
EXPECT TOO MUCH, at least at the begining. After I get used to this skin and its newness, I will take you there.
For now I post some of my poetry, for my pleasure, and maybe yours. Drop me a line

Posted by Idinraha at 12:46 PM | Comments (3)

January 12, 2005

Question zone

Problems? Questions? Tips? I'll use this entry as a general technical post - for the main "Author" of this site!

Posted by cycho at 05:06 PM | Comments (2)

Awakening

Stretch... yawn...

I think we are online now. Let the broadcast begin...

Posted by cycho at 09:56 AM | Comments (1)