« June 2006 | Main | August 2006 »
July 31, 2006
Again
The Sun worshipers had their way this summer, its hot out there, and we all have fled inside, the coat I am wearing suits me, and the fiber is kind to the scabs that cover my skin. I do not do summer well, she thinks I do not know how to live, and life is hard on me, she knows me well, and yet she stays and holds my hands. My side burns are turning white and I shave them close as I thin out the whiskers that cover my face, feeling exposed, maybe, vulnerable, of course. I think I have come a long way and life is easier on me, my laughter is clear and my thoughts are folded way inside my head.
Sometimes I wonder how they remember me, my kids, and am I the right man to raise them. i wake up midnights, checking on them, pulling the cover, I look at them knowing how much, so very much I love them, and wonder if they
know how they have saved me. I am writing again, thats all I can do, and at the end of the day that makes me feel
alive. I have cut the phone lines, and do not even answer the door, I am done with all that and where I am, this place I occupy suits me fine. only if only I could make the time go slower, much slower.
Posted by Idinraha at 03:30 PM | Comments (0)
Swallowing You
Standing naked
behind the window
as the night crawls outside
a quiet serpent is roaming the house
I'm all heaving, all breath,
I'm all fusion, electric pulses
and my skin thaws against the cool glass, raw
I am all expecting
Autumn brought golds and amber
as the life of greens bled in oranges
I counted the trees, and counted again
as they stood bare, their barks dry, crackling
against e air i a quiet sorrowed submission
no objection, no denial, a callas season corroding
the surface,- Autumn bloomed in browns and purple
as I counted e trees
the house came to life
like the boundaries on edges
of each bricks and walls turned in
I put oranges and reds, yellows and amber
sparkles on cold pieces of wood, cranked the
essence inside, and celebrated the fire, as
it hung in the air, blowing outward
Autumn had swallowed the house
Seasons defy times
in a deliberate extension
that moves beyond as the Clock ticks
and the worm moves further inside
morphing to shiny pieces of larva
I declines all the invitations
locked the door, and checked them
over and over, as the clock ticked
I picked on you
with my long beak, hungry
like a vulture at a cadaver, in a ritual
and you stayed, like a memory that hangs
in the attic and surrounds a day of idle thoughts
I picked on you, and swallowed you, like the last
piece of a left over at the quiet of a midnight
and how you melted in me, coming inside
You held on
as I reached you,
as I rang the bell and tongued
you, layers of pink, and simmered you
raw with my breath, my longings, my appetite
I molded you, a deformed goddess, and broke you
at the edges of your skin, and you held on, like
memories of the moth at the exaltation of the last flame
till I fell in you
we both smiled
at the Autumn, and the seclusion
of a season so unexpected, so calm
we had tea in the afternoon, and watched
the last show at midnight, then you left
back to the attic, and I stood behind the window naked
tasting my mouth, holding my sex, tonguing my lips
Posted by Idinraha at 02:53 PM | Comments (0)
July 24, 2006
The Persians
I was born in a land far, faraway. An ancient land, which was celebrated by many tribes. A land of riches that enticed many conquerers to lead their men and fight to behold it even if for a short time in the history of it submissions. We were the Persians, The pride of any culture, proud men with abundance of curiosity and the drive to quench their thirst, for knowledge, culture, art, literature. The land of Zoroastrians, the first organized religion that differentiated between the Good and the Bad, the Ahriman and the Evil. Then Islam came to us and it brought with it the promise of a homogenized society with no differences amongst classes. The Persians bought into that promise and betrayed their king and there the time stood still and the ages of decay and ignorance grow within the soil that was sustained by the blood of the noble men of our glorious past.
They took us. they took all of us and everything that we believed in, everything that had made us who we were, our language was the first casualty, and eventually our culture, our skin, our physical attributions, our beliefs, and all the simplicity of knowing we had learned in Fire Temples of our ancestors of Good, and Bad, Ahriman and Evil.
for they brushed a thick gray color within the consciousness of our knowing, narrowing the differences between the Black and White, and filled our being with superstitions, and old wives tales. We were castrated and all our nobility bled away from us, and there they had the empty cadaver of a nation to rebuild again in their own ignorant,
Badwian image. and this is where my story begin, within the parameters of men wallowing in their own misguided pride and the ignorance that had claimed them.
Unfortunately there are no heroes in my story, no gallant, brave savior, the characters I have are mostly anti heroes, I can not even say that. They are just men and women who live their accidental lives within the parameters of the culture they have been born into. The new Persians, who had inherited all the interracial blood of their ancestors , and all the beliefs that was embedded in them. They are ordinary people who happen to live in the better side of the town and and live in higher style than their neighbors
Posted by Idinraha at 02:54 PM | Comments (0)
July 21, 2006
The savior
Kane and Able, Issac, and Ismail, and the dynasty of men in peril, where do we go from here, what is the legacy we leave, Pride and Prejidice, and the dust bowl of history. I have always wondered how a men would allow himself to take away from another man all he has gotten. Its the texture of skins, the physical charactristic of our differences, and our beliefs, its how we distinguish ourselves from each other, and how we insist on such sepration to reach the individuality we desire, for we well know how similar we are.. The same colors that seprate us also bring us together and show us our similarities. Pitty we do not understand, pitty we do not accept.
Its the same stone that broke his brothers skull, in the same motion and with the same rage. I know I have to let go of this analysis, and accept that I am anothere spectator, and as the time goes I will see less of this heresy and hear even less of it and at its heights it would bother me less, for I am programmed to accept and deny and get used to all that is around me. I rather look inside, I rather close the doors and stay within this coccon and weave my dreams in all colors of rainbows. I rather drink the cold water and quinch my thirst, eat the bread, hum a tone, smoke a cigarette and write another poem, though these days I write them mostly inside my head in my extended day dreams for registring them seems futile.
There is no inspirations left , the heights of emotions , the satisfaction of the words that lay in harmony and carry within themselves all the dreams of a lost soul. The road was taken the ideals were lost and we left the sanctuary,
Ther is only disappointments at the end of curiosities, and once you got there and you saw the shell of the beloved, and he empty space wiin his soul, you wonder............And then the savior calls mu name, invites me to smile and a embrace reminding me that I have had it around me for the longest time, and all I have is not of my effort, but the destiny I have been afforded, she feeds me, and holds me, and tells me the road has been taken the wonder is at hand, and all I need is the time and the understanding of how to enjoy aqll I got.
Don't look back, don't look up, down or inside, just look and let life carry you....................................I will.
Posted by Idinraha at 08:56 AM | Comments (0)