Idinraha unshackled...

November 28, 2011

The Fire Burns

The waves have settled.... The wind subsided ... I need to step out, outside my head....... Do not need to observe my life , just need to live it with instinct..........It seems the sun would leave the parlor, the curtain will come down and
darkness soothes my senses... it allows me to float with my eyes closed...... float within and fall ....

I feel whole again.... The sutures are getting covered by new skin... fresh and pink... the jagged edges are melding and the the cavities are covered by protean fibers......... The bones have healed though there is a phantom pain that sometimes flows through my bones and paralyzes me , waking me up or bringing me down to my knees..... I could take these little pills for pain to go away and She says if I take them regularly they never come back.....somewhere they get barricaded and left to decimate.....

I have left the room........ I sleep somewhere else and the situation seems so temporary, however I know I would never go back.....In my youth I vehemently avoided branding things as MINE.... it always was the car I use....the house I live in..... never mine.... I barely had claimed me , .........and then it was the yellowed skin......the poison and Coma...... and yet all the reasoning, all the logic,,,,, were not enough.... I put up a good defense and argued my case...........She would not hear of it......

And this burden of years , the crown of normalcy...... This accumulation of alphabets and numbers....the necessity of sunrises and sunsets, all of this, the reluctant son.... the cruel father , paternal yet blind to the sensibility of strangers and anything beyond the green Book of salvation.... oh he could not see ... and if he saw he would not recognize..................

Yes it pains me to be carrying so many faces, so many destinies.....the blind maze, the odor of growing fungus, the green smell of growth... and the blue colds of limits,... this circus... ... batches of eggs, the fertile genitals that survive cohabitation of ordinary and mundane..... this generation following the last in a blind maze....... There is not any individuality in living or death.....

Yet another sunrise and the life that awakens...............folowing the crowd at arms length......... the fire burns............

Posted by Idinraha at 04:12 PM | Comments (1)

June 15, 2011

Chess (the reality of illusions)

It's quiet here, the sun is closer , and there is no relief in the shade. the day is past half and tomorrow is around the bend. I will move the pawn and then I will pause waiting for her. she swims in the morning across the river and then back , "sometimes I like to lay on the water and let it take me away" she said once. "then I get scared of how far I dare and swim back faster" she said..

we make love in the afternoon behind close doors, I am content but she likes us to be mischievous. The idea of my hand crawling under her skirt at a restaurant while she is talking seriously appeals to her, I am content, but she like us to dare further. I like to watch her sleeping naked. the way her hair falls on the pillow , the curve of her back, the side of her breast, I like to sit by the window smoking my cigarettes and watch her floating away.

We make love at midnight , half sleep, half dead, half awake, all needy, all wanting, hungry for more , our eyes closed , she climbs me, like a drunken mole, blind she finds her way , the greedy femme, I taste the wine in her mouth I taste my last cigarette, wishing I could gorge on her, half mad, all crazed, she holds me to a halt "stay please, just stay" she whispers,...................................

she is back from her swim, he hair sleeked back wet, sticking to her neck, her eyes blue silver, her lips almost purple cold, yet inviting , she kisses me, "the water was cold" she whispers, sitting across the table, she looks at the board
I follow her long fingers as she reaches and moves her pawn further...........................................

Posted by Idinraha at 01:01 PM | Comments (2)

June 07, 2011

girls of summer

Girls of summer in light linen dresses, bare legs, precocious with a song in their heads. I walk the streets looking for your face........sun gets closer at noon, shadows slip along the sidewalks, hiding in alley corners.......... I am alone in this town yet I hear your voice when sleep covers me over, I taste you in my dreams and your sweet breath stays finding me in awaken hours..... I turn my head left, I turn my head right....... I look behind me and then I look away, close my eyes and walk with you scattered in my head..........

I am of water and I have come to flow and take...........running on surfaces, rushing away, I dream humid and wet I dream drenched in sweat......and words , screams loud,..... I come up for air.........I flow and take, and yet I don't want to be taken as the muffled sounds of currents comes, streaming my way........I need to run and yet stay, I need to take yet give away
I need to be whole again , I am of seas and oceans, swept away...........I have been a storm blown in air.......I have drizzled and fell.... reaching ....................

You stand so close yet I can not hold you............You live faraway yet I can not deny you............go away so I would miss you and come back so I love you again and again...................I need a distance so I come to you.......I need to miss you as the days gets longer , to live without you and feel the pain when I want you and you are not here..............I need you to go away, I need you to stay , I need to love you.....be your lover...... yes. yes again and again.

Did you hear me, though you have not ever heard my voice did you know that it was me.........did you close your eyes and found an image of me the way you can imagine..... the way you want me....... did you hear me though you have never heard my voice ..........I am sitting here whispering in the wind.......so you can hear me......though.

He has been quiet for ages, for as long as he was building a house......walls, roofs, windows, ceilings and floors.....he was quiet for ages.........the house was built..... the silence grow deep in sacraments of resentments......... and now as he is breaking the walls, the windows, the roofs and floors, as he is taking away all brick by brick he should scream, loud, louder he should holler and yelp......... he should.

you come her, clean all the traces of your stay, you come here in silence and I give you so very much, so,so very much of me to take away......................................

Posted by Idinraha at 03:52 PM | Comments (0)

February 01, 2011

Venus abandoned............ for Jen

I still feel your teeth,
braking the skin,
and the sharp blades
that cut my soul to pieces ,
the pleasure of your pain

I have felt you inside roaming
like a drunken ghoul , tearing me all
skin and bone and I shivered of the thought of you
your fangs in me, you nails, your tongue
as you hiss, my sweet carnivore
hungry for me

your chains, my hands
your chains, my feet, my ribs
arms, my dreams, as you hang me
swinging in air, my joy , your pain
just to realise I am yours
in this forever

beauty of thousand masks
you stand in the mirror, creamy
bared skin, your shoulders I remember
your breasts , your nipples, strawberries
your lips bleeeding red, your face,
your hair crowding rebels
holding your sex, as you turn your face,
Venus abandoned

you dared to venture close
as I burned you flesh and bones
with my tongue, a love blossomed
a death born, and the air
between my breath and your skin
became the distance between my life
and your death, my teeth and your shoulders

I have been here for ages
and yet ............................................

Posted by Idinraha at 05:24 PM | Comments (3)

January 19, 2011

Infinite ever

There's no sad ending,
souls can not be contained where we dwell
its the passages we remember......
and the music coming from the distance
scratchy and broken still lingers
holds and stays, coagulating to
crystal, as sharp as your teeth
so I can hear the music as we dance
and you tear my skin and flesh
till blood paints my shoulders
your lips teeth and mouth
and how you hold me
in your mouth and throat
my essence as it slides down
in you, the music plays in you
where is safe for an infinite ever

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

December 25, 2010

Will you come again?

Will you, if I stay here waiting, Will you come again for another tale, a poem, I say much and I am so naked within these pages, but I like you to come again. maybe we have tea and talk like we have known each other, come to think of it we do, stranger are only mere words away from intimacy, lets say it, and take a long walk to where the trees stand deep and a quiet depth of unknowns eludes the sun in a shade so soothing and clear, I say so much and .......... maybe for a second reading this you believe it is you I have been waiting for.............................remember you can always leave and yet you would come back again,
Will you...........

Posted by Idinraha at 04:48 PM | Comments (1)

December 24, 2010

Where are you taking me

We clearly know the stranger he walks by the dark side of the shore where the wind pushes the waves and leaves them . I see him as a man of a medium stature, with black hair that crowds his face, and eyes haunted by so much.

There is a pleasure to melancholy, there is a certain safety, a taste bitter yet textured like the taste of an old wine that stays and lingers. It has black wrought Iron gates that surrounds the interior of a well cared garden and there is stone house old and weathered yet with certain strength in its lines and presentation.
You could walk in and roam the large foyer you could go upstairs and visit the main room with the fire place, for me though it's the library with its wooden panels and thick velvet curtains, and the shelves of books there,That's where I find melancholy sitting across a short table waiting for me for a game of chess.

I have such a yearning for wine, red Merlot served in a crystal glass. I like to sit by the window pane and watch the sky as the day settles in a sunset. I stood too long and waited many hours while life happened outside the window, beyond the garden and the gates. I never belonged here and I had no desire to leave. I never possessed anything and nothing ever belonged to me. I erased my name from the certificates like I was never here. After all what is in the name if you do not take it.

Where are you taking me now, I still see her standing by the bed half naked, half mad all crazed, cupping her left breast in her palm while abstracting the right one with her arm. she smelled like sin and yet so devastated by the weight of the picture in her head. So young, she tried so hard and so gifted she did not have to say much.

The images are there inside my head, my treasures, my diaries of a man on the edge . such a sordid tale, such a collaboration of desires, urges, the unbearable bulge of sin so so delicious like her tongue inside my mouth .............. where are you taking me.................. They are still there, time stay and repeats itself we move but the incidents we share wallow deep again and again for we are the witnesses and they live inside, behind the thick velvet curtains in damp recluse libraries and their whispers reach as they sip and take dripping further.

I could have loved her at that closed finite desperate moment, second when she cried and bit my lips in blood. There was all pleasure and pain, there we were in an embrace . I could have loved her but I already had loved her and I was a man on the edge and she knew I had given her more and she had broken so many rules and there we were after the kill , present and knowing and where else we could go.... and there we were realizing how far we had come and there was nothing more but the depth of a fall.....

Where are you taking me, it is never the same, after the first kiss, the first touch the first breath everything is framed in the thrill of unseen and unexpected, and nothing , nothing will ever be the same .................We could not follow the hallways and come to the same door and the same room and expect to be any different...............habits form in desperate layers of need, habits are devalued incidents and expectations, habits are the diseases of others , others who circle behind closed windows and suffocating whims..............................

Where are you taking me. , where can you take me....................

Posted by Idinraha at 10:40 PM | Comments (0)

August 13, 2010

She fills my cup

She fills my cup, then
she holds my neck
bringing me close so I can drink
as her eyes move between
my face and the cup, then she asks
"May I get you more "?
I smile nodding.

Posted by Idinraha at 01:50 PM | Comments (2)

August 11, 2010

She claims me

I like the pink pills, they taste like uncertainty, The yellow ones are more vague,
I am naked without them and so vulnerable, Dr K looks at me and quietly whispers,
" are you sleeping well"? and he corrects me when I try to spell the word MISCHIEF.

He thinks she is good for me, in small doses, maybe twice daily,
A MAJOR DISTRACTION. He calls her. I am not sure, I mean she
is good for me, like a turn in a road to where the scent of jasmines
fills the air. She is good for me like the water that engulfs me and
takes me away in measured silences and comforts. Like when the
sun on an early morning catches me looking out, stretching my bones
yawning. and the way she touches me like I have been hers for a
very long time, maybe.............

I do not hide amongst the columns, I wait for her outside, where the
light is spread for ever and time has evolved to and slowed to a halt,
where she stands in front of me still and there is no one else, nothing else
just silence , where words not dare, and we are within our space.

I tilt my head and walk backward, I am vulnerable and my skin diseased as it is ,
bruised, dried and left for dead for so long, yet she reaches and touches me,
holding my hand within hers, I try to tilt my head , I try to walk back, but time has
evolved to a hush, standing still . She claims me, like I have been hers for a
long time, a very long time.

Posted by Idinraha at 04:30 PM | Comments (2)

February 10, 2010

All that is outside

It has snowed all day. The roads are empty white, and life treads slowly. No one knows yet it seems the train has left the station and I could see my face behind the last window passing by, and the girl I left in the station has already turned her head walking back. I have a secret to tell, I have a tale to whisper, a love story of sort......

You did not believe, you never believed. I whispered the secret , I told you the word, like I had never told any other. The bird in my chest sang for you and yet you did not believe. and somehow I know you never will. And I am happy in my truth in sincerity of my emotions. I hope you never miss the bird and the clarity of truth. I stand behind the window that frames all that is out there hoping for thirst hoping for hunger.

It's hard to define these times , life seems so surreal . There is such an abundance of images and urges, such gluttony of needs and depravations. Truth is lost in collaboration of expectations and denials .We forget how naked we came here and how bare we are left, and all that remains is but a dream we can not remember.

I can not reach you, as they are pushing the nails through your skin, as you heart is thorn in
a grief so cutting so severe that has bent your tall stand. all I can say is how sorry I am for
all is happening to you and the ghastly sorrow that has nestled within you and your beloved.
I pray for you to the Gods you believe in and the God I frequent in the same voice.

I laid down on the kitchen floor next to the stove as it hummed-- cooking. I thought how much I like the kitchen-- the place of sustenance. I like the quiet it brings me as I clean the dishes, clear the counter,put the washed glasses and utensils in the cupboard and then fill the dish washer with the soiled ones.the joy of small tasks that can take you away and the sense of accomplishment you get as the dinner is served. and the kitchen is cleaned with you walking out, turning the last light.

It is still snowing outside, it is suppose to snow all night, we have a tall window that frames all that is outside and you................

Posted by Idinraha at 06:33 PM | Comments (0)

July 01, 2009

The consistancy of blood. (blood is essential)

There's a certain melancholy to my people. Their eyes half open, looking far , simmered in a quiet tension. I miss my people, it has been a long time since.............. I miss the stillness of my days there, the scent of dust as it hovers in the air. Like a black and white movie noire which brings the detail out to its grainiest point. You could almost touch the air, it is heavy and dense. Life is so real there you could feel it pulling on you. Life is so layered in such distinguished measures. Life stands center stage, lit and brazen with unkempt hair, unshaven face, Brown black sunken eyes. and yet you yearn to touch him.

Life walked up town the other day, his eyes fixed, his jaw locked, it held stones in his hands. Life hummed a quiet tone as it marched, and as his pace got faster his voice raised, he objected to all it could as the crowd gathered following him. I could see my sisters walking erect behind him, chanting his songs and when the bullets came, they held him around his wrists and carried him, walking uptown.

There is a certain quality to Blood. It is red and it flows. Once there is a gash in the skin, a knife or a bullet wound, Blood rushes out. There is a consistent quality to blood. It carries life in measured genetic vessels and once out it loses the life it has carried within, however it tends to nourish much higher life that has collaborated in many epics of human uprisings against uneven odds for survival of ideas that have been the cornerstone of Human dignity and morality. Blood is essential.

Blood in its organic hues of reds, oxidized by air would scab around or on the surface it occupies and the image of a beautiful girl with blood oozing out of her mouth and ear can be horrifying. The image of dried blood -- a certain deep red almost black on the face of a beautiful girl as it covers one eye and leaves the other lifeless eye open to the indifference of death and its finality could horrify a nation, a continent,and even the whole world as they watch, knowing that Blood is essential .

How do we measure a life. in years, in the extent of happiness that life experiences, in the extent of happiness that life has brought to the others. How has her life effected the rotations of the Earth , the Moon and the sun.
Does anybody remember her name. Is her name familiar now to the strangers. Would her picture make you pause and think a bit outside your habitual, accidental living. Is the image of her splayed on the black asphalt as blood pours out of her mouth and ears and eyes, covering one eye as the other stands still in horror of death, does that image stays in the conscious mind of God.

I look at the map of my country and for the first time in a very long time, I feel a heart beating within its soil. I see greens braving the asphalt and steel , rushing up toward the sun. I see truth written on placards and signs and spelled in marches and mantras. I see the sons of the fathers who gave this land to the most shameless elements of Evil. I see the sons and the daughters of the fathers who submitted to the lazy dreams of religions and accepted that Islam means Submission( no matter how misguided that is). Those sons and daughters have stood up for their basic right of freedom.

Posted by Idinraha at 03:45 PM | Comments (1)

June 11, 2009

a casual mistress

I dont think I stopped loving you
I just can't remember how I loved you
staring out the window
I go for long walks

I was unwritten
unseen, untouched , scattered
you carried your words in
colorful boxes painted in yellows, reds

I was for the taking, bare
my life heaving beneth my skin
sutured up by holly Mary though
I could feel your breath

you took your time
poised, quiet, deliberately still
your silence so erotic as I saw you
tonging your lips in a hiss

I thought you would drink my skin
I thought you would take me, leaving
your finger prints around my nipples
as you hum sweet in my ears

you took me in a ceremonial fuck
and I learned how to love your penis
your extension in me, the way you expressed
yourself, the way you made a map of my body

your casual mistress, your absent wife
I became, swallowed whole in little morsels
poised, quiet, deliberately still inside me
as I spread my legs holding you in

Posted by Idinraha at 12:24 PM | Comments (0)

May 12, 2009

cracked

It was a sound so faint,
she heard within her head,
like a hair line
fracture on a soft bone,

as the pain reached her
she could not locate it,
to sooth it , rubbing her fingers
against the skin where it covered the bone

It took her a while
before she could pin down
where the sound came, where
the hurt was and the pain

on the right lower corner,
where she looked out, within
the spread she saw, there was
a crack in the scene spreading out

Posted by Idinraha at 03:28 PM | Comments (0)

January 04, 2009

The child Shiva

I take a breath
inward
submiting to it
it brings me back
a certain joy
as it comes up
flowing me out
in continuing intervals
with deliberate purpose
Eyes closed, I descend inward
hand to hand
breath to breath, I adhere
to a fall inward
there I find in a transparent
moment the child Shiva

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

December 29, 2008

Mirabai...............................The poems of love

Dark One,
all I request is a portion of love.
Whatever my defects,
you are for me an ocean of raptures.
Let the world cast its judgments
nothing changes my heart--
a single word from your lips is sufficient--
birth after birth
begging a share of that love.
Mira says: Dark One--enter the penetralia;
you've taken
this girl past the limits.

Posted by Idinraha at 02:34 PM | Comments (1)

Mirabai...............................The poems of love

Dark One,
all I request is a portion of love.
Whatever my defects,
you are for me an ocean of raptures.
Let the world cast its judgments
nothing changes my heart--
a single word from your lips is sufficient--
birth after birth
begging a share of that love.
Mira says: Dark One--enter the penetralia;
you've taken
this girl past the limits.

Posted by Idinraha at 02:34 PM | Comments (1)

such a sweet notion

such sweet notion, such wit, teasing the senses,
I hold the cup and it reaches me, behind the curtain,
beyond the window, all there is far
yet I hold the cup, knowing that rapture awaits in its hour,
knowing the dark one has disappeared light foot in the night
and the lover is scared of the Moon,
such a sweet dance if you look up
I saw her hand I know the Henna on her nails
and the sweet nectar on each her finger tips,
such a sweet dance if you whisper
Dark one says--"the night is short and morning brings awakening,
let us dream".

Posted by Idinraha at 01:34 PM | Comments (0)

December 20, 2008

Coming back from the funeral................ for Raffaelle

Coming back from the funeral
caught in a snow storm, stock in
traffic we talked of how the ceremony
was so simple and quietly dignified
like the man you were

Like any gathering we had before
you were quiet, and so handsome
watching us crowding around you
at the church Rosa cried she seemed
to have lost so much more than others
and maybe just a bit less than you

by the time we left for the Mausoleum
the snow had started, it was cold in there
it was comforting not to leave you
in the ground , the priest was eloquent
we all stood side by side and left red roses on your coffin
I guess it made us feel better leaving you amongst the roses

Took two hours to get to Julie's house
somehow you wanted us to stay longer,
grief had taken over the highway
like a white hase and the sky was lost
we were all stalled
pondering quietly as we made our way back
It wasn't easy to leave you, I could feel your big warm hands
around mine, and your smile larger than life
the way you held on as you greeted me every time I saw you..........................

At the house we gathered in the kitchen
the way we always did, you were there stiring the pot
the aroma of the sauce, and your wine
" manga, Manga " you said smiling
We all ate, drank and carried on like you were there
like any other stormy night or a holiday when being around you
made us all feel safe.....................................................................

Then we watched the slides
your life in pictures, there you were tall
and handsome the way Rosa
remembered you and she looked like she had lost
so much more than others and maybe just a bit less than you

Posted by Idinraha at 12:46 AM | Comments (0)

March 30, 2007

An unfinished prayer

I am floating weightless and this long silence is heavy on me, living inside me, behind the irises of my eyes, I sit looking out, careful not to trip, make a noise, observing as I do in an even stare, I hear my heart beats, I hear my longs filling with air, and then I try to remember all the senses of living, the joys of the first light of the first day, the first breath, and the feel of air against my skin, the first smile , the first tear, and the dizzying senses of living. I remember.

No sunset was ever as majestic as the first, so I go to the shores as the last traces of light drips beyond the silver motion of the sea, I sit on the sand and wait. I have an image in my head I wont forget, and I wait. as the sounds of the deep echoes within my head, I wait.

Was it the first day of the spring, when the cherry blossoms bloomed and softened the wet edges of the branches in a beauty so beyond my knowing, my seeing that my breath left me for less and the blue bird stopped mid air, all in a wonder of my seeing and how it was etched in clear colors of spring within the synapse of my mind, in an abstract jest that bled so factual so true it shook me beneath my skin, within my bones, how does one decipher beauty, one can only remember ........

And still beyond the beauty of images, colors and seeing, there is that solidarity truth, the rapture of spirit that could only be seen with eyes closed and once there , one you survive all the laws that gravitate you within the absurdity of your being, once you disrobe of you,and all your knowing, closed eyes, senses keen, you remember the way home.

Beauty make me religious, washing over me like a prayer in tongues I do not know but their echoes soothing to my soul, and its the limitless possibilities of beauty, its ever changing shape that would plead to all my senses, each such a virtuoso, each so complete in its nature, its promise, beauty touch me, runs under my skin, hurls within me and all it leaves beyond is a breathless desire for more. beauty finds me, and holds me, beauty.......

Of you I am, and of me you are, you live within me as I live within you, no boundaries, no limits, just the indisputable knowing that we are.

Posted by Idinraha at 08:38 PM | Comments (0)

April 12, 2006

What remains

You know it's boiling in you, it moves within all of you, every inch, every little parcels of your skin, inside your vaines, as the carousel of blood moves on , it swooshes inside you and stabs you in every corner, in every part of you. You sit , stone faced, wondering where the words have gone, how is that the thoughts carry over in your mind but the miss the connection and the voice box does not sing, no movements there , all silent, the words do not come, but you know they are boiling in you.

The images are registered the scents are breathed inside, the senses are on fire, the heart beats, the blood leaps in bounds and whooshes, the eyes see, the voices are heard the thoughts are shaped and the words are chosen but, the distance between you and uttering any words have become so far, very far. you are lit, but the words do not come and the silence covers you like death in black patches of blinding indifferences, you are muted and you need so much to say something...............

I am dangerous without my words, my movements are labored, and the anguish that fills my head like a tropical depression that sits within the air, covering the sky with black clouds that move silently in their elements of angst and longings........ I empty al the closets and throw all my belongings out the window, I wash myself over and over taking long showers, and I wash again. its the sin , the guilt, the boredom and this heavy burden of living an accidental life. I check my license, and compare the picture to the face in the mirror, yes this is where I live, who I am and no other alternatives, and that finality , of no other alternative, this long sentence , this cumbersome everydayness of my days, my aging face, and all the memories of our days in the sun, where we frolicked close to a love in hand, to belonging and to tender mercies of the ones who loved us, and yet, what remains..............

No, no its not Kafka, it's not bleak, or black, but it sits on you like the dull weight of a Sunday afternoon. the black stands, but the grays will hunt you, they stay and define you, the boredom of their hues, the idleness, the impotent ways of their days, fruitless, empty, like a cold cavern that leads to nowhere, and it only echoes the sounds of the distances. I feed me colors in sweet hues and liquidize me within the emergence of the colors within my skin, and learn the cheerful intention I expected are poisonous to human dignity.

They do not know, I tell myself, they will not understand, they do not see, they cant, I repeat again, but why all the effort, I don't know, I guess we do what we can with what remains.

Posted by Idinraha at 05:02 PM | Comments (0)

February 02, 2006

Play it again Sam

It is like a good poem, a long one with enough complexity and beauty in it, that when ever I get a chance,...... It's like one of those Russian Novels, I loved so much when I was much younger, with characters that come real, human like, and they have so many layers to their personalities, and each scene is described in delicious details, each movement,.... Its almost lyrical, each frame, the colors,. the camera angels, the dialogues, the haunting faces of the lovers in it. So I sat again through another screening of the English Patient, and I enjoyed it, got lost in it, got inspired by it, fell into it, and all.
and it has stayed in me, like a good wine, a good song, lingering..........

Posted by Idinraha at 12:35 PM | Comments (0)

January 10, 2006

Talk Dirty to me

here, the dagger
Here, my skin, my
submission to your affair
Giving in to you, what come may
here's the vessel, dare closer
I await a sunset

here my lips
here my breasts,
here my flesh, the longing
the wait, here you, your breath
your eyes, in a full circle
here in my palms, a quiet prayer
here a calling, a request,
here I wait

come in, come...in
I've set the spread, my
skin heaving, my blood
whooshing away, the images
come to unrest, in golds, saffron'
and purples, skin to skin, breath to breath
my tongue hissing, as I simmer, layers and layers

lick the dry season
mount the seared gashes
let the worm to crawl in, then away
here and there, take the savage
by the neck, say, say all that's not said
and yet, stay after the sunset

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

Inside your palms..................................................for Marjan

I could live
inside your palms
where my lips mouth
your skin soft, tonguing
you peta patter, sniffing
you skin, yes, I could live
within your palms

You could hide me
in your pockets, and
when the day cuts the
light from the branches,
and we are left to ourselves,
you would bring me out, to
live again, inside your palms

Posted by Idinraha at 10:24 AM | Comments (0)

Heresy of your syllables................................... for Pat Robertson

I'm so sick of your Gods
You, torturous wicked serpents
and the rights they bestow upon you,
The deity of warmongers, the heresy
of your syllables, and the ignorance
that yellows your irises

And the tinge of
your breath, soured and
spiked by the hatred of men,
the ones you chewed and swallowed,
the ones you mounted and took
with your shameless penises, the
only extensions of all you are

It's the hollow orifices
within you, the neglected
accidents of your birth, and breeding
the weeding of you as you trespass
on images of your holly noblemen and clergies
It's the puss that oozes on your skin, the
ugliness of your intentions, and the
thickness of the masks you wear,
it's you in the loneliness of the ages

And yet you crawl
in the public circles, in
every day rotations of the
days, as you hide your fangs
under your robes, calling on
your benefactors, your Gods

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

January 02, 2006

I am lit

I am all humid today, all aches. usually this happens in spring, when I grow taller and my skin feels the air, like a sordid lover. I am all expectations today, and I think I could love more, and I think I could stretch my skin over my bones and feel more. Wanting is so easy today, longing, I can cry easier, and laugh harder, and feel the little fusions of urges exploding within the synapses of my brain.

And I could break this mold, shed this skin and walk out like a hue that bleeds at the end of a sunset sky, I could flow, and take, like a flood, like rain, and caress the edges of surfaces, I could leap and run, let the air tangles in my hair, and the life I have within me presses further, I want so much today, I am needy, yet generous, I am breaking in small pieces, dusted by air, I am calm yet so apprehensive, like a Jin out of the bottle.

I am all stars, lighting the night, I am lit within and out, and I want so much, and I need so little,
like this life inside me wants an out, so it could roam the earth, the planets and the universe, I am so able today, and yet so little. and loving comes so easy to me, and to think you have done this to me, with a glance, a stare. I am all heaving, all skin, all flesh, and this thirst I can not abide with, I can not handle, even if I drink you in multiple glasses, and hold you inside my mouth, and down my throat, I need so much today, .....

Posted by Idinraha at 05:01 PM | Comments (1)

December 30, 2005

Francis Albert Sinatra

Do be do be do, do be do be do, do be do be do,

Posted by Idinraha at 03:27 PM | Comments (0)

Molana Jalaledin Rumi

Everything you see has its roots in the unseen world. The forms may change, yet the essence remains the same. Every wonderful sight will vanish; every sweet word will fade, But do not be disheartened, The source they come from is eternal, growing, Branching out, giving new life and new joy. Why do you weep? The source is within you And this whole world is springing up from it.

Posted by Idinraha at 03:26 PM | Comments (0)

December 15, 2005

The last train to Oblivion.......how a soldier dies

"What happened"?
He thought as he was
thrown back, the bullet
kissed the skin, pierced it
hurling in, His brain, confused
of the message it received,
"disconnection at nerve endings,
Massive hemorrhage", as the blood
descended, flowing out.

"I have to get up", He thought.
But the pain reached, as he tried
and stumbled back on the ground, he
touched the nape of his neck, where
the blood was swooshing out, where his mother
used to kiss him, and his wife before the goodbye

He could feel the soil
awaiting him, as it soaked up
His blood, awaiting for the remain
of a life, the earth could be patient
to receive. He heard the sounds that
crushed the sky, and saw the smoke
within the blue patches of the sky.

There is solemn reality in death,
a timid acceptance, that one can not deny
Inside him, the essences of his living gathered
In cloud of wishes, longings and grieves, knowing
the journey ahead would not be long

The body was collected
Tagged, bagged and numbered,
for the lonely trip homeward, but
the soul frolicked the desert for a while
Before taking the last train to oblivion.

Posted by Idinraha at 11:08 AM | Comments (1)

October 09, 2005

Whatever

The girl with apple green hair
coming back from a barefoot summer
all unhinged, not steady on her feet, with
her eyes lost in a clutter, she say ''Whatever, whatever"
as she rolls her eyes, shakes her hair, she got a tinge of sex
on her breath, as she rubs her thighs swinging them left and right
She knows what she wants, she thinks again and again,
but she isn't sure, she bends her head
looking further, shaking her hair
singing the song under breath,
Whatever, whatever,

Posted by Idinraha at 11:44 AM | Comments (0)

September 13, 2005

story teller

To know the light at the witching hour
or to remember, the settlements of its glow
embarking on the blind roads and choices,
To know the dpeth of the oceans,
and the extentions of the sky, the clouds
and the wind and all the particles
of dust that has traveled throuhg the ages
and times, to know of the destiny of men
and the fears of life, as you sit by the fire
at dusk and tell your stroy in familiar voices
kind words, the prophecy of unknowns
and unwanteds, coming through you,
so you tell your story
as you see it

Posted by Idinraha at 05:43 PM | Comments (0)

September 05, 2005

lighter than air

To tell you
How long I stayed
waiting in the rain
at the staion, where
the trains sped away
and the crawlers found
their ways, My heart aches
and the picture I have of you
with the young promise of you
lighter than the air,
is getting yellow around the edges.

Posted by Idinraha at 05:08 PM | Comments (0)

Directions

you could have called,
and asked me the direction
the roads are dark, but
I have set fireflies on each
Branch of each tree, you would
Have found me, your heart
oh if only you trusted your heart.
But I guess, we've been so long apart
even your heart wont remember.
I will allow you your distractions
I will not come to you, though
My heart knows where to dare
But allow me my pain,
and dont tell me ever again
how you miss me.

Posted by Idinraha at 05:01 PM | Comments (0)

the Moon

I've lit the moon
in icy cold white glow,
and the velvet blue drape
that I hang behind it, frames
it in a quiet contrast.
now when the night comes,
the night crawlers hesitate
their trespass, and the
travelers would look up and smile.

Posted by Idinraha at 04:57 PM | Comments (1)

September 01, 2005

drag of smoke

I asked the old man
for a drag of his smoke
he pulled me close, kissed
My lips, my mouth as bitter
As his dreams, and then
He offered me a drag, smiling.

Posted by Idinraha at 02:14 PM | Comments (0)

Traveller

what good are the road signs,
the numbers and exits, if
you travel on a road to nowhere.
If what is lost is deep within you
where you have never dared, never been.

Is it the motions that keep you
the white traces you follow, or
The dreams that come, as the
Roads extent beyond illusions.

or the strangers you meet,
The long legged desperados
looking in the same directions.
Or the fear that if you took
the last exit before the sunset
you might have to stay where
your heart beats wish.

Posted by Idinraha at 02:07 PM | Comments (0)

July 14, 2005

Raping London

His soft shaven face
Looking so alien in the
mirror, and the quiet anxiety
in him, of decisions made, passages
to be taken, after all life is a dream
And there is so much he has not done

The quiet ride to London,
getting lost in the crowd,
getting closer as their frames
stoop under the heavy burden of
Hadises, Sourettes, words of prophets
and the rise of a heritage that is
So misbegotten, and mislead, he washes
his face, says another TAKBIR, he has not eaten
He has to get there, with all the ferver
of the eighteen years he has lived

He pushes ahead,
and as they seprate,
he feels the loneliness of ages
sitting in the Tube, as it moves
side by side, he closes his eyes
as the minutes close in, and feels
a sordid rise in him as he pushes the button
Raping London, Raping lives, whorring his religeon
with all the ferver of a boy out for mating.

Posted by Idinraha at 03:40 PM | Comments (12)

July 07, 2005

In all my lives...........MIRABAI, ecstatic poems

In all my lives you have been with me; whether day
or night I remember.
When you fall out of my sight, I am restless day and
night, burning.
I climb hilltops; I watch for signs of your return; my
eyes are swollen with tears.
The ocean of life-- that's not genuine; the ties of
family, the obligations to the world--they are not
genuine.
It is your beauty that makes me drunk.
Mira's Lord is the Great Dark Snake. That love comes
up from the ground of the heart.

Posted by Idinraha at 12:05 PM | Comments (0)

July 06, 2005

It has to be more for her out there

She did not rush into it
she dressed all her dolls,
setting them high on her bed,
climbed up and let the water in
holding her dolls, waiting to be taken

How do you leave a life,
the tenderness that is shared,
the retched dates on the calander,
his birthday, hers, their anniversary,
the moments, the hours, that stay in you
as fresh as the first day of a spring,
she ties her hair in a pony tail tight
walks in long strides, and talks about
he dolls, she knows she has to go on

And still at night
when the lights elude her,
she opens her hair, laid in
the middle of her bed, she keeps
a pillow between her legs, and holds
another in her arms, she misses him,
his scent, the way she used to lay her head
in his arms, hanging on to him, his weight on
her, once inside her, his familiar moves, his face
his steps in the hallway, that she could hear, half sleep,

And still she has to remind herself,
It has to be more for her out there, she
knew the depth of the water, the rush
of the currents, she only has to
float a bit more for a safe harbor

Posted by Idinraha at 11:24 AM | Comments (0)

July 05, 2005

Death

Death is a zippless fuck.....

the first line of the poem by my new friend LINDENTREE,.....it does say a lot. the rest of the poem is posted on POETS.COM, go and read it, it's a trip

Posted by Idinraha at 04:13 PM | Comments (1)

June 30, 2005

A Glance

The quiet predictability of life
Its everydayness , its comfort,
As the day rushes , taking you to
All it brings within the jest
Of your expectations

The ease of its familiarity
as the day dripps within the
quiet surrender of the sky, the
Movement of the hours, the sun that
shines as it did in days gone by
And the reality of existance
'flowing within you, carrying you
to places you know of

The entire sure footed laws
Of this reality, and the necassety
Of them, that somehow finds us,
And brings us to a halt, and the
ever eluding exaltion of life

And yet there is more
There is always more,
As the perfect stranger
Find you, and whispers Hello.

Posted by Idinraha at 12:02 PM | Comments (0)

June 20, 2005

The woman you loved...., a tender cut

You looked so lost,
I was nervous, holding my hands
In my lap, the taste of my Lipstick
Fresh in my mouth, ther was no going back
We both knew it, after we claim what was ours
and the boyish look in your eyes, waiting to be
halted, stopped, for you knew nothing will
be the same, nothing, ........

I bathed that morning,
brushing my hair I noticed a quiver
in my hands, naked in the mirror, I oiled
my skin, my thighs, my legs, my belly
more foundation on my face, thicker eye lines
In my head I knew how I wanted you, to be your whore
to see yo0ur eyes loving every inch of me, you
would stand by the bed and watch me, and I would smile
arching my back, showing you my needy nipples, to break
you, and bring you to me, your whore, your spread, to
play me, caress me and handle me, cherish me, and devour me
burning me with your breath, teasing me with your teeth, and
tear me in such angles that only you could put me together
at your whim.

--But you cried, as I held you, taken inside
all of you, the anticipations, the longings, the hurts
as you grow inside me, the severity of your urges, the way
you wanted me, growing inside me, tearing me like a tender cut,
an injury, and then you cried, and I felt the hush of the woods
and then the birds flew all ot once, over the trees, coveing the sky
like a black plague, like death, so sudden, and so deserving
so necassery and so right.

Posted by Idinraha at 04:13 PM | Comments (4)

June 17, 2005

Reach of surfaces in Death

To know and accept
the day for what it brings,
the stand of the objects, the
movement of time, the allowance of
Our presence, the quietness of this stare,
this seeing, of how life places us where we should be
where we fit the space we occupy, and the thrill
Of submission, laying on surfaces that take us
as we breathe the air we are allowed, in
anticipation of our senses, the
expectations

As the cobble stones turn,
rolling in river beds, and this
mercurial weight, this vessel takes
flights to unknowns, where the sky is
no more, and the Earth is flattened, extended
not in curves,and repetitions, but to an end
to far out look of where we have come, and traces
of our trespass, to add up the past, and clear the
present, as submission hold helpless, and the
liquidity of water brings us to the surface
raising beyond its measure, its element
for the wheels round seamless and world
flattens, no curves, no rounding
of clocks, no time, just the
presence and blessings
of an end

Posted by Idinraha at 03:15 PM | Comments (7)

June 05, 2005

Polar Ghost,(the safety of objects)

She saw the white patch
of land beneath her, looking
down the window of the plane, she
had come so far in search of her Polar
Ghost, and the clamity of it baren remains,
the emptiness, the majestic flow of its geography,
the footsteps that it held beneath the layers of ice.

She had brought them all,
the note books, her verses, that
hurled inside her, care full of ice
blossoms crawling on surfaces, as she
covered herself in another layer, preserving
the life within her, and her quiet wonder as
she became to know in so many ways that the
answer she seeked was out there, outside
the security of her stand, her boots,
her hat, the gloves, and the
sepration they allowed her,
The safety of the objects.

So she walked
braving the cold,
as she took them off
one by one, allowing the
clarity of her reach, to become
a part of all that it was, and only
then she saw the footsteps that traced the
landscape, and a map to her wilderness.

Posted by Idinraha at 05:04 PM | Comments (1)

May 25, 2005

Her last Lover

She sits on the porch
at the end of the evening,
crossing her long brown legs
taking another drag of her cigarette,
her eyes half open humid, she is
splayed on the lazy chair, no movement
within her, of the life that so ernestly had
stayed for all the long days of yearning, and
the restless urges that have succumbed to
the indiffrences of days passed, the
hours that fled only to leave traces
of her sagging eyelids, the crowsfeet
around her yeys, and the subtle lines
around her mouth, coming to her in
quiet intervals of her loving
and leaving

The calling moon aglow
within the spread of the sky,
the sounds of the waves, the invitation
of water, to reach the quiets of its depth
to take away, all and all, like a summer dress
falling from her shoulders, and the submission of
it, the acceptance, the passages,--Yes to hurl
within the unknown, and the excitement of
expectations, her last fling, her last
lover, the one who would take her
away, while she hangs from his
shoulders, no more words,
spoken or written, no
explanations, just
a departure

Mother will love her again
and they all will come, all her
lovelies, dressed in their Sunday clothes
and they all remember, how relentless she was
the curiosity of her urges, her sweet kisses,
her giving limbs, for she never denied them,
holding them under her breasts, within
her, inside, as she locked them in a
stare, with her big brown irrises
whispering--Love me, Love me, Love me,
again and again

And they all will
watch her walking down
the sandy bottom, hand in hand
with the one that took her away
as they disappear in the
dark pitch of void

Posted by Idinraha at 04:31 PM | Comments (0)

May 23, 2005

Love, Vodka, and Cigarettes

We are drinking Vodka with our tea
The sour tinge is fitting,
Sunday afternoons are a loss
between short phone calls,
and a town abondoned.

He is sad, benevelont,
the wound is warm, the pain not set
he braves conversations, brushes the paint
on the canvas and sips his tea

I am an old pro
and the hurt is obvious,
so we talk,
-Men have a way of sharing
Vodka and lost lovers,
Like characters out of WAR AND PEACE,
or BROTHERS KARAMAZOFF

naked in our Blue Brown uniforms
Wollen hats , and old guns
And the romance of cold mother Russia
But somehow CRIMES AND PUNISHMENT
seems more fitting,
Dastayovsky, or Maxim Gorky's heroes
are closer to the emasculated men
that we are--Modern animal males
with no treasures to hunt, no battles
No swords, wounds or honor

In Eighteenth century Paris
My brethern would have found
remedies abundant for heart brackes
In rouge powdered flesh of parisian whores
Or stolen kisses from a Major's wife
So we talk and share as the day is spent

We are bonding
The pain sedated by another bottle
another cigarette, a new story
--This will pass I remind him
there will be prettier girls
younger maidens, the thrill of new conquests
Passionate first kisses from other lips
all the cliches that i remember
But we both know
This will hurt

She stands in the hallway,
Moves closer, finds the door knob,
Cold in her hand, she holds hesitant,
she knows the distance between the door and the room
She knows his cologne, how he whisper talks,
the arch of his brow, his hair pulled away by his hand
she swallows the hurt, leaves the door knob, and runs out

--This will pass, I am still reminding him
There will be prettier girls, younger maidens..........

Posted by Idinraha at 12:17 PM | Comments (0)

May 18, 2005

Their House

There has to be a door,
house have doors, solid
and they can be closed, and
a knob you hold within your palm,
and turn, then it sqeeks, turning in
or out(doors turning in are more wellcoming)
and you get in, there are always doors

Windows are the sights of the house
Smaller in size, but necassary any how,
they allow seeing, breezes, the air, the
sounds of the birds, you can look trough, or
look down, they allow you outsides in small
incruments, as you wish, they are not to be climbed
in or out, unless your heart betrays your senses,
it happens, at youth when you can climb up, hold
take another look and jump to the safety of unexpecteds
but its youth that must decide, windows look better
not done in some printed fabrice, or silks, they only
tease the appetite of the passerbys, abstracting the air
the passages of the souls, and in so many demensions, life

And of course a fire place,
of stone preferable, at the heart
of the house, with a long chimney to
the upside of the roof, so warmth stays
in, and the smoke, the black soods get out
while the house is kept warm, and a love seat
on the side, as the fire burns, so lovers can claim
their hearts in intimate settings, close, cozy, for
comfortable gatherings of twos, a girl a boy, a daughter
or a son, or however you add up your intimacies, a place
for man of the house to bend on his knees while his wife sits,
grieving for forgievness, while pushing a dagger further in
his wife heart, just a civilised quiet place of sort for the
emotional uphievels, or where she could get drunk, and tip
the bottle over, going upstairs to her empty bed alone

There should be a bakyard
for fleeting summer days, the
smell of barbecue, and the eluding
breezes that succumb to the heat of
long hot summers, or an Indian summer
a place for the hammock to remember
after noon lazy naps, and a swing that
moves high, or a seesaw to attract the sounds
'of laughters and joy of children in summer gears
their sweaty palms, with their hair wet
sticking to their necks

And of course the accoupants who live
from time to time, and then go away, looking
back, with sweet regards, calling it their house

Posted by Idinraha at 03:21 PM | Comments (8)

May 16, 2005

Barefoot...................................a poem by Anne Sexton

Loving me with my shows off
means loving my long brown legs,
sweet dears, as good as spoons;
and my feet, those two children
let out to play naked, I ntricate nubs,
my toes, no longer bound.
And what's more, see toenails and
all ten stages, root by root.
All spirited and wild, this little
piggy went to markket and this little piggy
stayed. Long brown legs and long brown toes.
Further up my darling, the woman
is calling her secrets, little houses,
little tongues that tell you.

There is no one else but us
in this house on the land spit.
The sea wears a bell in its navel.
And i am your barefoot wench for a
whole weekk. Do you care for salami?
No. You'd rather not have a scotch?
No. You don't really drink. You do
drink me. The gulls kill fish,
crying out like three-year-olds.
The surf's a narcotic, calling out
i am, I am, I am
all night long. Barefoot,
I drum up and down your back.
In the morning I run from door to door
of the cabin playing chase me.
Now you grab me by the ankles.
Now you workk your way up the legs
and come to pierce me at my hunger markk

Posted by Idinraha at 03:57 PM | Comments (0)

Moments of Kill...............The 100th Poem

She walks
In the grave yard,
Her face happy in jest
Of a lover going to an
Awaited Randevous, she finds
her way trough the slabs of stones
In her heart a percise dagger,
Being there fora while, cuts deeper
So she could feel the pain

She finds him
Sees him in his horizontal
State, laid. she bends down
Pulling thweeds away, brushing
The stone with her palms, like
Brushing his cheeks, intimate in
her mind, as she reads the tombstone
The alphabets make her realise
Again, how cold the air is,
And how breathless
Is she.

She sits,
Stone faced,
Forcing a smile,
Whispering under breath
Singing and old lullaby,
She lays on the stone,
Stretching her arms trough
The hard surface, the damp soil
Reaching further, she finds him,
nd holds him in her arms, feeling
a pressure in her breasts, as the liquid
pores trough her nipples and wets her shirt
The twilight breaks in her head
As she yelps in sounds of a dying animal
In the moments of a kill

Posted by Idinraha at 12:28 PM | Comments (2)

May 15, 2005

Beautiful, beautiful girl..................for Kiana

And How you claimed my heart
As you opened your Cat eyes
And reached through me
And How I suurenderd
To the promise of you

Daddy's girl
Mixing colors of my days
Crafting my life in your hands
Creating tablets of unconditional love
In pinkks, greens, reds, and ginger
in your busy hands, long fingers
Spelling the magic you know
In a smile, or a stare, precious

We waited for you
And by your arrival,
You made your mom prettier
Your brother taller,
And me complete.

And such pleasure
To wake my every day
ith the sound of your voice
And demands of, NOW,....WHY....or PLEASE
-You asking for more, and more, never enough
And the privilage of watching
You become all you will,
My beautiful, beautiful girl

Posted by Idinraha at 03:25 PM | Comments (0)

May 13, 2005

Half an hour............................By P.C. Cavafy

I never had you, nor will I ever have you
I suppose. A few words, an approach
as in the bar yesterday, and nothing more.
It is, undeniably, a pity. But we who serve Art
sometimes with intensity of mind, and of course
only
for a short while, we create pleasure
which almost seems real
So in the bar the day before yesterday--the
merciful alcohol
was also helping much--
I had a perfectly erotic half-hour.
And it seems to me that you understood,
and stayed somewhat longer on purpose.
This was very necessary. Because
for all the imagination and the wizard alcohol,
I needed to see your lips well,
I needed to have your body close.

Posted by Idinraha at 10:47 AM | Comments (0)

When They are roused.................by C.P. Cavafy

Try to guard them, Poet
However few they are that can be held
The visions of your eroticism.
Set them, half hidden, in your phrases.
Try to hold them, Poet,
When they are roused in your mind
At night, or in the noon glare.

Posted by Idinraha at 10:37 AM | Comments (0)

May 11, 2005

Finding the maiden

Cool bed sheets wellcoming,
I lay, looking out the window
At dusk, where colors deepen
The light fades, and hues
Bleed in the void of black

I am content laying here
While you read your papers
And the scent of our living
Fills the air, I am content
But restless in my head, looking
For the spot light that eludes me
Like a lass, I am shameless, misty
And mischevious, moving my legs against
The sheets, my needy breasts, and the tinge
of an urge to be at the end of your seeing

I push my head further
Against the pillow, devouring
The scent of the sex still embeded
Within the cloth, roaming in my head
-You so gloriously shining in my sweat
-Me lapping on your sex, enjoying how your
Body pulses in a rhythm, I am reaching you
As i bite in the ripe peach, mouthing you the
pulp, soaked in me, a kiss that brings you more
Of my humid limbs, as you swallow

I roll to your side,
Extending, reaching in a
Soft tip toe, under the cover
Findinf you, where your quiet stream
flows toward me, as i slither blind,
Sniffing the air, gleeful and raw,needy
And bothered, tonguing your thighs,
Allowing you the anticipation
before I find the maiden
And take you back

Posted by Idinraha at 01:13 PM | Comments (0)

May 09, 2005

The Bears have left

Russia is always white, and
Deserted in my dreams, with square
People, in long fur coats and hats, with
layers of scarfs, crowded in their brown and grey
presence, corrupting the scenery, loud with their Jagged
Alphabets, crooked words, mixed with their damp
Smokey breathe, tinged with hints of over-
Cooked sausages and Vodka, talking with
their vision limited in woolen covers,
and the severity of sarrow in their
voice, that tears in their cold
Glassy eyes.

Living in crowded cubicals
With angular chairs and tables,
Rounded old refrigrators, and the odore
Of close living that veils over the walls
and the air, -Rugs worn to their threads, their
last remainder of any colors grayed and soiled,
Covering the cold sement, with pictures of Lenin,
And other fathers of a bastard revolution hanging
on the walls.

The Bears have left long time ago,
(Migrating to the warmth of finish shores
And quiet Polar woods, where life still pulses)
When the last Tzars were abdicated, replaced
By balding short men in Grey suites, and narrow ties
Leaving the white scenery still Majestic and bare.

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

May 06, 2005

Lust

I like a yellow cab,
A train ticket, and an excuse
I like a long walk naked in the rain
And not getting there, no matter what

I like a glass of Marlow
After dinner, you laying on my back
naked and warm, feeling of your pubic hair
Moist against my skin, my face burried in
Your lap, my tongue on your sex

I like you looking at me
Listening to Charlie Haid while
I write, fantasizing of a three some
with my pen and the paper
Long into the night

Your midnight stroll
To the bathroom, your shadow
sitting, with your palm
against your thighs, my
taste still in your mouth
Your hair tangled

And when you're back
standing aginst the wall
half sleep, half mad,
Your eyes misty, afire
"more", you say, " more",
You whisper, "I want you now"
You say, falling in me
With your face against the pillow
Your hands tied, me pleasing you
WE graze in lust, making a picture
I remember tomorrow driving to town,
Or in a yellow cab, staring out.

Posted by Idinraha at 01:51 PM | Comments (0)

Three seasons

He stands by the window,
Clutching his prayer book,
Looking out as his white hair
Shines in the sun, hunched with
Some slight tremor in his stand
A tear finds it way on his cheeck
Asn he harriedly wipes his face

This solid earth under my feet
This beguiling Mother, that has allowed
Me to hang by its bossoms for all the rainy days
Is tilting a bit, so I could find my balance
And try to hold to all I can in a jest
Of couping and survival

She has taken the bones from my mouth
--Her bones, as I chewd on them in angst
She puts the pieces together, humming quietly
Wondering of the geography of my my anger,
And the savagery of my elements, how the
Clouds forbid the sky and burst in
Jagged stones, crushing her to pieces
And the traces of her blood on my
teeth and mouth, the pieces of her
That I have teethed and gnawed on
All in one frocious bite, a
Clear act of agression, or
Shameless hunger of a
Need, she had not seen.

Posted by Idinraha at 01:37 PM | Comments (0)

April 29, 2005

Untouchables in fragrant colors

In India the sun came closer
swallowing the fleeting shadows
beggar kids followed their hands
Stretched to Buddha, while she shopped
not looking back from her ginger cloth
that covered her sight, there was a hush
blowing atop of the bare trees that surrendered
to Ganjie, as a cow talked to the holly men.
Dalli, gasped, looking at the canvas, bewilder if the pain
that covered his misshapen lines was of hunger.

The China man grow taller, while whispering Japanese
In a cold calculated accent,as the hot metal poured
within the factory lines, he kept his Sony Walkman connected
roaming on his Bicycle, dreaming of a Chrysler, maybe a new stove
He looked at the tall buildings in Beijing, and did not refuse the
Dollar someone handed him, they were both new to him, both necessary
There were no tanks on the streets today, and the breeze in the air
dared him to go faster toward the market, the dollar bill still
heavy in his pocket

In Africa they are harvesting Daggers and watering them with blood
The taste of the white men still in the mouth of young women, feeling
So close to the soil of their land, raped, and left, and the stains that would
not wash, covering the field, the filth, the scents of the Blue sweat, vapor in air,
the young boy sold the condom his father gave him for his sixteenth birthday for green dollars,
FOUR green dollars, he was happy he would die young, like Africa, the dizzying GREEN AFRICA,
he hailed a cab going to the whore house. Four green dollars burning in his pocket.

Posted by Idinraha at 05:13 PM | Comments (5)

April 28, 2005

Gooseberry Patch

Well, Friend, I will praise the dear Lord with my
Singing.
I go out each morning looking for spices, and for a
glimpse of him.
I'll dance well in Hari's temple, you'll hear my
ankle bells.
I'll make castanets give out his name, and I'll cross
the ocean of this world.
What is this world? A patch of gooseberry bushes. It
catches us on the way to one we love.
The Great Snake Giridhar is Mira's lord; I'll sing
about him; then I will be home.

MIRABAI, ecstatic poems

Posted by Idinraha at 12:01 PM | Comments (0)

The Kiss.........................by Anne Sexton

MY mouth blooms like a cut
I've been wronged all year, tedious
Nights, nothin but rough elbows in them
And delicate boxes of Kleenex calling crybaby
Crybaby, you fool

Before today my body was useless.
Now it's tearing at its square corners.
It's tearing old Mary's garment off, knot by knot
And see--Now it's shot full of electric bolts.
Zing, A resurrection!

Once it was a boat, quite wooden
And with no business, no salt water under it
And in need of some paint. It was no more
Than a group of boards. But you hoisted her, rigged her.
She's been elected.

My nerves are turned on. I hear them like
Musical instruments, where there was silence
The drums, the strings are incurably playing. You did this.
Pure genius at work. darling, the composer has stepped
Into fire.

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

April 25, 2005

Sorrows of Serpents................for Sepideh, and Mary

It took her a long time
To accept her sorrow,
and learn how to nurture it
Within her bones.

It some how became the
Reason to validate her daily chores
And the endless steps of the hours, it
was as much hers, as her face, her eyes,
Her afternoon walks, or the pudding
she liked after her dinner

She became aware of
How it has engulfed her
so present, as she brushed her hair
lining her eyes, knowing that as long
as she passed it by, not standing, or staring
It would not tear her apart, as it just
nibbled on her in accepted aches

But at night
The clarity of it
laid over her, like a
Fog, finding a blue corpse
hovering over her colorless face,
crawling the lenght of her skin, echoeing
in her head, like a faint sound of a Music box
At a Fair, playing forever in the distance.

Posted by Idinraha at 05:02 PM | Comments (8)

Mira Is Jasmine

To love a Yogi, O sister, is to love only sorrow.
He murmurs sweet words while he is with you,
Then forgets and departs.
For the Yogi, a sprig of Jasmine
Is easily plucked, easily dropped.
Mira says to her lord, bring back your beauty.
When I can't see you, that absence knifes open my
heart.

- MIRABAI, ecstatic poems

Posted by Idinraha at 01:20 PM | Comments (0)

April 23, 2005

The Cuckoo Calls a Beloved Who Comes

Cruel cuckoo,
Did you suddenly remember the season only
to hurt me ?
I slept in my house, at last I slept-
Then you cry: " Beloved, Beloved!"
Salt to a wound, Saw-blade cutting my heart.
You perch on your branch in a high tree, singing
Of love full-throated,
And Mira wakes remembering she is alone.

-MIRABAI, Ecstatic Poems

Posted by Idinraha at 01:30 PM | Comments (0)

April 20, 2005

Lonely jest

It comes to me
In quiet intervals,
As i stand with my eyes
Staring into space, blind
To its surrounding,
That I will never have you

And how my skin
Is waisted in dry patches
Left yearning for your touch
Not a pat on the shoulder
Or a quick obligatory hug,
Confirmation of our co-habitation
Of the years we have lives
Together alone

My breasts sagging under
The solitude of their wait
Immersed in memories
-The sweet texture of your tongue
The warmth of your breath
The comfort of your mouth

As I mouth my own skin
Between my lips, and lick
My fingers, sucking them gently
with my eyes teared of
The desperation and shame
Of my lonely jest

Posted by Idinraha at 03:16 PM | Comments (9)

April 14, 2005

Wanton Kiss

Leave me be
wandering aimless
as the day is spread
through the ease of windows
In necassity of its passage

Leave me be,
corrupted amongst your pages
as you register this existance
Keep sakes of your dreams
Hoping for a sign, as we linger
Accepting the emergence of life
In fruit baskets, and the diety
of ritualls so fragile that
they disolve in solidarity of hours

I am the one eyed Goull
The retched ghost
The shiniest doll
An accidental cure
for all the predictabilities
Of your denial, as you ache and smile
Trying to catch your breath

The breath I hold
Of the poison you need
that secures you this wanton kiss

Posted by Idinraha at 11:03 AM | Comments (1)

Longings in siluhettes

It's the infinity of these images
And the nakedness of my soul,
The Mutant growth of my damage
The ache in my bones, when the
Day recieves me, and the light
reflects in the knowing eyes
And still

Breathing in denial of
The wounds, that bloom raw
and the necessity of cure,
The invitaion of these roads
and temptaion of unseens, as
I chew on life with delibrate
intention between my teeth, and
The blood I cherrish, nourishing
The tortured hues of my sins

As I cut my skin, celebraing pain
In intervals of madness and serenity
and kiss the lips that offer belongings
It's the rigid edges of awarness
Wher sleep, not a dream wrapped in
Sorrows of the serpents, and longings
Of the goulLs that can not Escape
The wide eyes of this reality
And yet

The days survive empty
As I live reaching
and wispering in the wind

Posted by Idinraha at 10:49 AM | Comments (1)

April 12, 2005

In Pieces..................................By MeTalnymph

Apparition tumbling
Display of raven locks
Once a grounding fixture
To twirl between my fingers
Hang twisted in neglected threads

To claw at the ground
In essence, everything at my hands
A semblance of reality slipping
Through painted nails
I imagine red

Where a heart thumps vibrant
Beneath skin who holds on to the ache
Raw parts never meant to be lost
Wishing for a prophet to smooth the
Tangles
As the pieces fall to place

While stars do their dance
Watching suns rise up new
I claw for the sky
And dare to let warmth kiss me
A swaying figure weary of the cold

Posted by Idinraha at 11:58 AM | Comments (0)

Dancing Circles....................................By MeTalnymph

When beckoned by melodious voice
A song is brought on winds
To tease while lifting hair
Brushing silky from extended hand

Bones beneath flesh ache
With the wailing of preludes
A hand gripping strong, imploring mine
And it closes around as a ghost

Ushered ina waltz where I am levitated
Misplaced is the scent of warmth
Miles away and drenched in frost
Breath engulfed in misty halo

Seized and led in circles
A shoulder bared to lips
Concealing sharpened teeth
Arranged for ravishing

In the grip of hands
Where a mane is but a toy
Glossy strands could choke
-but they wont-
Only hold attentions as a prisoner
Skin flushed by tearing hands could
drown
-and it will-
Seizing affections
as a thief
POise*Steeler
My familiar diving to the center
Where a waltz is always played

Posted by Idinraha at 11:40 AM | Comments (0)

April 11, 2005

Breathing Lessons

She knew,
She had that far away look
In her eyes, as she harried
The day amongst her chores, quietly
Humming, avoiding what bubbled
Inside her, as it came to her
Troat, and teared her eyes
And cheeks, two tears

Constant urges running
Under her skin, and the weight
of her acceptance, her dutiful guilt
That pushed against her frame, like
A slab of stone, solid in it's girth,
Twisting the air within her, for
She knew how life evolves in
Old and new, in wanting,
The conformity of predictables,
And the dizzying rush of curiosities
That deliberately move in her
Like a breath, that stayed
Within her elements

She sat by the window
Aware of the knowing inside her
The way women do,- that she had to
grow within her life- so she
Opened the window and took a breath

Posted by Idinraha at 03:32 PM | Comments (0)

My Animal Female

Do you dream of me,
In solace of the night
Do you feel my fingers
Tripping down your skin,
Do you see my fangs, my nails
And the coarse hair that covers my skin

Do you feel my moist lips
Tresspasing on your shoulders,
And my tongue, humid and raw
lapping on your neck, where my teeth
tears your skin between yo0ur jaw and ear,
Do you tremble, shiver and wake,
With a feared smile

And wopuld you be hospitable to
The horror of me, my beastly presence
My Sapphic desires, my animal female, and
The torturous wanting that borders doom in
Its feverish macabre twitches, it's essence
A theatre of blood and mayhem, the gorging,
as sarilegios, as sinful a mutating dreams
Of serpants and sorrows, of the bulging eyes
And devoured flesh, of your corpse, half eaten
Half alive, all taken, as you yelp in rasping
Voices of madness and pleasure, coaxing me to
Push further, and reach more, mounting you
With your neck between my teeth, your
Blood on my face and paws

And after you shudder to
Your collapse, humid and raw
Taken in orgasmic crystals that
Bloom in your eyes, I leave you
Standing on my hooves, as you smile

Posted by Idinraha at 02:54 PM | Comments (1)

April 02, 2005

songs of Jeremiah, dreams of ferries

Imagine a field, on the edge of graveyard.... you have to follow me quietly, -the sun in falling behind the blue dark void of the sky, and twilight is here, when everything loses its focus, and melts within the background of darkening amber, that fades to black.

Lets wait, I hear movement, the dry leaves, and there in that corner,look, you see a hand coming out of the ground, and and arm, a shoulder and I see her head, and soon she is up from the dust, and soil, and there is the thunder, the black clouds moving in, and yes, I feel the drops of the rain, and soon its a shower storm, wind blows, look, she is walking towrd us, such beutiful creature as our eyes pick the silluhette of her frame, she is walking toward us, in measured steps, and there you see, she is a godess, a face in perfection, with her black hair wet stiking to her hair, and shoulders of creamy white lucent in the dark, a glow of white, you look how she passed us by, lets follow her behind, and there there is a Black Piano, suddenly visible, she stands by it, and then sits behind the piano, and amist the rain and storm the sounds come to life, the notes, extention of her fingers and play of wires they fly and stand within the air, and the sound, the melody of resurection, as she plays.

there are foot steps, many, and yes you see there are coming, in a pach, of wild wolves, all in white, as their eyes shimmer against the dark, they come, and soon they are sarrounding her, though she seems prancing in a different reality, playing, bringing the piano to life, as the rain washes over them, with her sitting and them all around her quietly , taken bu the sound, the melodies of her witchery, and then she stops sudden, and for a second the time comes to halt, like a picture and then you hear them growl as they close on her, she sits , not screaming, but wellcoming their paws, fangs and teeth, as they tear her to pieces, and all you see in blood and the songs of their teeth as they chew her in pieces.

The night is spent and the day is coming, within our site, the picture breaks to pieces, and soon there is only dust, and ashes carried by the wind, like she has never been, and the wolves never came, but, you saw it, we saw it, and we wont forget.

Posted by Idinraha at 06:14 PM | Comments (0)

March 29, 2005

Eating You Alive

It's your humid geography,
The supple weight
Of your breasts,
The curve of your back.

It's the scent of you,
The feel of your skin
Against my face, the pull
Of your lips, and your breath
The essence of you, the life you live

It's the invitation of your black irises
To the far outs of your seeing, the way your
skin creases when you smile, the way your voice
Comes muffled in a whisper, when you call my name

It's the hold of your fingers, hanging on me,
It's the taste of your mouth, the scent of your breath,
And the quiet urges of you that hurls inside so content

It's the urgency of my consumption,
And the severity of my hunger,
How I will bruise your skin,
And tear your soft flesh, the
Delight of mu nails and teeth,
As I cut through you with a smile
And lap on your blood, the efficiency
of my rituals, as I swallow every morsels of you,
Holding you deliberately in my mouth, between my
Tongue and teeth, and the way I clean your bones,
crack their soft shaft and suck the morrow of your
Life, as I laugh in delight, feeling you in my throat
And my belly, your flesh, your blood in me, your eyes
Your tongue, your breath, your dreams, consumed by me,
As I go urge on you, eating you alive

Posted by Idinraha at 05:19 PM | Comments (0)

March 23, 2005

Wait..............................a poem by Galway Kinnel

Wait, for now.
Distrust everything if you have to.
But trust the hours. Haven't they
Carried you everywhere, up to now?
Personal events will become interesting again.
Hair will become interesting.
pain will become interesting.
Buds that open out of season will become interesting.
Second-hand gloves will become lovely again:
Their memories are what give them
The need for other hands. the desolation
Of lovers is the same; that enormous emptiness
Carved out of such tiny beings as we are
Asks to be filled; the need
for the new love IS faithfulness to the old.

Wait.
Don't go early.
You are tired. but everyone's tired.
But no one is tired enough.
Only wait a little and listen;
Music of hair,
Music of pain,
Music of looms weaving our loves again.
Be there to hear it, it will be the only time,
Most of all to hear your whole existance,
Rehearsed by the sorrows, play itself into total exhaustion.

Posted by Idinraha at 12:16 PM | Comments (0)

March 21, 2005

Filling the Void

she knew, feeling him in her bones
She could hear, the brushing of the leaves
ebbing the silence muffled and hush,
she could see his breath, the cold eyes
as he brought his head down smelling
the soil, and then up to sniff the air
the windows were locked, the door shot
but he knew she was there

She felt a tinge a sensation
at her center that ran through her
Not fear, excitement, ruunig under
her skin, stretching in her, filling
the void that predictibility
of every days had left, she
took a long breath.

He pranced around,
It was not the hunger in him
He missed the urgency of the hunt
and the severity of the kill
His teeth ached, the thirts
in him, the warmth of the flesh
croaded in blood, under his teeth
in his mouth the texture, the taset
chewed and swallwed, going dwon
inside his throat, and belly
filling the void.

She opened the door
stood on the balcony,
the air was cold, clear
Fresh on her skin, she needed
To see him, she was far enough
her heart sped, the blood wooshed
under her skin heaving the flesh
The yearning inched and climbed

He saw her, sniffing the air
carrying her scent that flowed
In air, her humid essence, damp and
tortured, inching inside him in
a twirl, dizzying his head, he
Howled, in a low voice, long
And delibrate,

She stood by the railing
cut her palm against the edges
and let the blood dripp
along side her fingers
Falling down on the soil
Red, and living, spread

He followed the scent
and lapped his tongue taking
it in, as much as he could,
As much as it came, on his tongue
inside his mouth the taste of her blood
her humid damp essence, freah and living
filling the void in him, then he left.

Posted by Idinraha at 12:09 PM | Comments (1)

The Hours

Virgina served tea,
Sitting down in the garden
Mrs, Dallaway sat properly
-The english rose, her creamy skin
Caontrasting her red hair, Laura Brown
Sat still looking out with her
Soulful eyes sunken, and moist

The tea was hot, and
Thw Bisquits deliciously sweet,
But the silence lurked heavy,
"There should be other alternatives"
Mrs, Dallaway whipered, " you are defining
And shaping many lives", she cried,
Virginia almost shocked, hearing such deffiance,
Tried ti balance her self, putting her hands
On the table, digging in with her feet

" You are breeding discontent, setting
Ideals, created by the maladies of your mind,
Dispatching a reality so cold in it's core, so baren"
Mrs, Dallaway said, uttering each word fully
pollished in their essence, like needles
Suturing an open gash, percise and deliberet,
"I will marry Peter, and you would set this right"
She said a bit louder, then got up took
Her umberella and left.

Virgina sitting ashen faced, feeling torn,
Violated, scorned, apprehensive, sad, and
Happy, baskin under mid afternoon sun her
frame shaking, her lips quivering, her
Eyes in horror, her hair down

Alone by herself and so close
To her deliverence, her hand-
Picked quiet exit, idealogically
Merrited, explained and confirmed
By her corruption of Mrs, Dallaway,
And now this, as close as a walk to
The lake, at hand, and present, this
Peace eluding her, as certain as it
could be, She had to live another day

Posted by Idinraha at 11:43 AM | Comments (0)

March 15, 2005

Woman

Fereydoon wrote you posted many women on your site, and this is
another kind of woman

Posted by Idinraha at 05:30 PM | Comments (2)

Out of Synch, looking for harmony as I purge

like breaking layers of skins, tearing me in bolts of lights, and talkng me, like taking pieces of bones, with long fingers, sleek tongue around them, lapping the hard surface, oh, the possibilities of living, where do you take me, so unexpectedly, an invitaion, coaxing me, I am tame, I am hungry, living on the frinches of sin, as my eyes burn, and the images like havoc, brusing the air in twists and turns, and my winter blood hardening in kisses of ice, and the stillness of time, filling with metalic particles that move and join and croad, such closer, my winter blood, scented and eroded, corrupted and closed, so near to perceptions of death, and such joy in its seclusion. Lets, lets break these cells, lets condemn the natural gravity of theses laws, these perceptions, Brush my hair in open air, and hum softly in my ears, I am to be taken, I am to be ravished, handled, caressed, and cured, take my senses, take me, and lets come up with new Alphabets, new sounds, lets ignore legacies of time, tell me of bliss, tell me of pain, and then, open me like a book, a tale, for a begining, and an end. I have been consumed here, I have seen too much, listened to none, but taken by their voices, the requirements of cohabitions, the society of these customs that frame me, as I cower, trying to fit, in images and portraits, in moving pictures. as I bloom in roses, in reds, as I bloom in time, passings, gates and gatekeepers. take me to the depth of the lake, where water stands still flowing in depth of its being, accepting, as it hovers, and takes, woosh, Its the probibitly of existance, its the perception of life, as the particles hold not knowing the essense of their longing, their quest, Tell him to find me, discover me in in my papers where there was never any holds or chains, amonsgt the longings and the yearnings, amongst the wants, and desires, where I come to living in my dimensions, of my sight, my seeing, and acceptance of the offerings, theses blessed days, theses blessed times, this eluding desired "Now", that makes us define our days, in past and present, this collaboration of the Moon, sun, and the earth, this living, this life, how can I allow its passing and how can I not, I could challange its dominance, and close my eyes, my ears, and yet miss it for all it is, all it will be, and yet the ambitions that burn in me eternally to be of significance, to be a part of all the living things as limited as I have come to be. so we walk in circles, and circles end where they began, or circles never end, for there is no direction but to extend, and continue, and this sober joy that finds me in sounds, and imges in pereceptions of my sense, pouring inside me, sipping in, in streams and rivers, in dripps, and fills me to laughters and tears, expressions of the bolting energy that flows me out, so I could extend my arms and hold all these beings in my arms, my hands, and fingers, so I can yelp, and bellow so high it would reach the gods in their heavens, so I can chew in my mouth with my teeth, all the earth, moon and the sun, my hunger , my thirst, defines me, find me still waters so I can see the reflections of my demons in my charms, and smiles. Light a torch, hold my hand and walk with me, time would be patient, earth will be kind, and gods would await us where we thread.

Posted by Idinraha at 02:46 PM | Comments (0)

March 14, 2005

Grandkids

Standing left to right, Arman, Baback
Sitting left to right, Hana, Ahmad, Amin, Sogand holding Sania, and Kiana

Posted by Idinraha at 01:53 PM | Comments (6)

Damn News Channels/ Things we are not supposed to see/ Ode to Paxil

The images creeping in our Psyche
Quietly gnashing on the Family pictures
Of the last Picnic, leaving their Larvas
nested in abbundance, as the host membrains
Beg for Paxil helpless

Two planes, Majestic as they are
In slow motions, ripping the sky
Cut the Two Towers in mayham, blood
Boddies thrown in air, splat against
The ground in hushed thud, a priest
Standing by the sites, gives last rights
To Firemen venturing inside, like a movie
-Full of Special Effects, Fire, debries,
steel melting, sirens, dusts rising up, way up
Three thousands souls, perished, called up,
Holding to their bones, flesh, insides,
-All day , on all channels, they count,
"The latest casualties number......"

The flash of the blade
As it cuts cold, the skin
Red, catching, seesawing
An artery, the bald man,
held down like a sheep
that Moslem kill in
The name of God, chanting
--Allahu Akbar, muffling
The noise of his voice box
As it's crushed

The left over
Of a child wih large
Sunken eyes, skin and bones
splayed over Sahara Africa,
as a voulture stands by
patiently with respect,
While the Photographer,
Licks his lip little,
And takes the shot.

The naked girl,
Running slanted,
Arms open, as the
Oranges of the
last Napalm
Severes the sky

The young man
Standing with hands
Tied behind his back
His faced creased in horror
While another man with similar
Features, stands arms stretched
Holding a Pistol against the side
of his head, you could almost hear
The click, the shot.....

High school Cafeteria
At launch, hushed cold,
Bodies of our sons, daughters
splayed down faces frozen in
Disblief, bullets holes on the walls,
mowed down, by adolesence angst
Of Kids that live in empty houses
between shadows, and silence.
The latest exploitation
For a mutant named Michael Moore

And waves that hover
Over thew beach, taller
Than high rise buildings
CLICK, CLICK, CLICK

Posted by Idinraha at 12:52 PM | Comments (0)

Oh Please, Ode to Patriot Act

He sits behind his desk,
With his eyes open to his reality,
A face crafted by photo shop,
So we can FEEL HIS PAIN,
Writing about the Patriot Act,
And how it offends his Civil Liberties.

He is an Ideologue,
So, so very Idealistic, and
Where he roams, reality is only
A word, very much neglected,
delibrately ignored, and
Amongst his Elite collegues,
He lives in a different world,
Where being American is a crime, and
Everything that plagues this earth is
-Yes , is America's fault.

He is a self hating Liberal,
all egoes, being fed by his righteous
Superiority, he is better han you and I
He knows better than Us, and likes to
Makes us livethe life he invisions,
-Watching CNN, celebrating Micheal Moore
And voting for Kerry, voting for Gore

Posted by Idinraha at 12:39 PM | Comments (0)

Muse, and Metal

She awakes in me, every day,
sipping out, she gets up,
standing in the mirror,
She combs her hair black,
As she stares calm

Sweet demon,
Awhward, the way she
Looks, Girl peasant
High cheeck bones,
Eyes of black
Under thick brows,
Boned nose, leading
To abondant lips
Of supple red moist,
She carries all the effections
Of a hesitating God,
Fierce in his strokes,
gentle in his intentions,
Generous in its subtleties,
With beauty in mind.

I can chisel stones,
And finf where it bends,
Cracks, and bemoans,
I can carve pieces of wood,
trespassing paints on canvas,
And have tried to redeem what
stands between her eyes and the mirror,
But I lose her as I focus,.......

She crawls inside me,
every pores and cavities,
She tilts my head, walks my legs,
Smiles with my mouth,
And chews fierce, aching my teeth,
She holds pens in my hands,
Words in my head, daringly
Shameless, writes to her delight.

And every night
She lays in me, coffin like,
Whispers, prays, argues, and chimes,
Denying her heresy of the creator, and the muse

Posted by Idinraha at 12:16 PM | Comments (0)

March 07, 2005

The essence of fire

It's your move
You take another look
At the set, stand up, go
To the window, lit a cigarette,
As the moon displays you in a
Long shadow set against the wall

I sit deeper, rotating my head
Gently around, my eyes closed, I
Open another botton, exposing my breast
Just one, then I moisten my finger in my
Mouth, trriping down my chin, down my
Neck, my breast, teasing my nipple
Between my finger and nail,

Move my hipp closer to the edge, and
Pull my skirt up, around my waist,
Push my panties away, so I am exposed
The chair gives in allowing me
To use my right hand, my fingers
My knowing tools their mischief
I caress the hood, trespassing
Inside, Hmmmmmmm,

Its the perversity of the image
My head back, one foot on the floor
Stationed in gravity, the other
Hanging on the armchair, I
Am deliciously spread,
Comforting myself

You finish your cigarette
Come back, witha smile on your face,
Sit across, look at me, poutting
Your lips a bit, your chin resting
Against your palm, you look at the set
Calm, you reach move your Queen, taking
My Roukh, CHECK MATE, you say softly
Handsomely happy, you stand up,
Come to me, Kiss me
On my forehead,
And leave

Posted by Idinraha at 12:02 PM | Comments (5)

March 03, 2005

The marrying kind....

She sleep walks,
Standing by the window, staring out
She dreams, of ctas and the side walks, cheap
Clognes, cigarette ashes and the scent of Cum,
He slides behind her, His hands on her hips,
pushing closer, she feels the grime,closes her eys
Little Prince, the Fox , and the Snake stare,
hidding under the bed, he pins her against the wall,
Jagged teeth, bared white, he breaks the skin,
She knows, he will pay, she locks him in further,
She grinds, the music plays, in her head,
The images come-Prom Queens, marching in satin
And silk, as blood dripps on her neck, she
Holds him thighter and grinds, The Baloons,
And clowns march on, midgets made up in
crass colors, streaking mascaras, smudgged
Lipsticks, pushed up bras, white panty hoses
torn, baring the flesh, boys rush, living traces,
"Boys, marry girls with excuses", echoes in her head
Boys come and leave, juvenile Hyenas with pieces of flesh
between their teeth, he pushes through, she screams, he
Collapses to stupor, she lights another cigarette

She walks into the church
Dressed up in her Sunday best
The bride wore white, the
Groom in black tuxedoe, showed up,
The brides father hesitated, while her mother smiled,
pushing him on gently, the air was damp, pongent
The smell of rosewater, mixed with perfumes and sweat,
The ghost, Father and Son, stationed amongst the columns,
And walls, anxious, holding hands, patiently devine, were
Announced present, they nodd, ladies freshened their make ups,
Masscaras, and Lipsticks, with the last glance in pocket mirrors
Elated, confirmed, a young girl pulled up her panty hose, bunched up
Her mother lifted her pushed up bra, further up, the pastor smiled
as she remembered, " the boys marry the girls,................."
While The little Prince, The Snake and the Fox watched on....

Posted by Idinraha at 12:47 PM | Comments (0)

Breakfast In Santiago

She breaks the eggs
One by one
They form spread
Around the melting butter
In the pan

She puts the bread
On the table,
Raoul, and Jose
Keep theri hands
On their lapp
As their father
Looks out the window
With a cigarette
burning between his lips

She brings the eggs
Puts five dishes
On the table
Forgetting
That Diego
Was picked up
Last night by the soldiers

Posted by Idinraha at 12:36 PM | Comments (0)

Table Manners, for lovers

I will give you
A manual, so you
Be percise, Which artery,
Where to cut, it will tell you
How to drain the blood, how to
Keep it, so the consistancy of
of it stays, how th skin whould
Be removed, How to cut the flesh
gently, the right angles for removing
It from the skeleton, what to do with
The bones, the marrow, the caltridges.

Oh, its not your Ghoulsih games
That take my breath away, it's how
You want me, like no other lover,
On your tongue, in your mouth, your
Teeth grinding me to bits and morsels,
And to swallow me, every inch, piece
By piece,-Me, your sustinence, inside
You , absorbed by you, it's the totality
Of your urges, the finality of it,
The most I can give you, your lover,
-Me, and for you, all I can give.

So, I will set the table,
Lay naked on top, offering
You a fork and a knife,
So you can eat.

Posted by Idinraha at 12:11 PM | Comments (3)

March 01, 2005

Sinning On Route 95

Tete, tet, Voom,
The engine roams,
All eight Cylanders,
Majestically Big, an Iron Horse,
Purring at my command, as I
Adjust my seat, check the mirrors,
I do not need seatbelts,
Where I am heading that would be
My least offence, sitting naked
At midnight, inside his car, I hit
The signall, and there I go, all tingles

Mick, the lover boy, comes to rescue,
His full lips red, he sings the tune,
I CAN GET NO SATISFACTION, NO, NO, NO
I can see him on stage, grinding his tush,
I push the pedal further, singing along,
Voom, the car throbes, the leather sticks
To my thighs, holding its bare back rider,
Skin to skin, I schimmy back and forth, slights
My flesh ia awake, my blood in rush,

I open the window, let the cold
Rush in, bloowing my hair, I open
Another, and before long, all the
Windows, and the sunroof are done
My Nipples stand and ache
Bringing new sensations
Throbing in my head,
I am all Sin

Hurling toward the horizon
At the end of 95 South,
I am profiled, hands
On the wheel, speeding,
My hair in flight,
All goose bumps,
All damp, and sour
Where my skin teases the leather
Going down, Eighty Fiving , on Route 95

Posted by Idinraha at 10:46 AM | Comments (2)

February 27, 2005

Little Red Ridding Hood

There is no escape,
Here we are, with my verses
Ropped around your wrists, your feet
Tangled in the web I weave, and the
Sweet acceptance of surrender

It's the images I feed you
Peeled citrus sours, pulped
Juices on your lips, the feel
Of my breath on your neck, and
The sooth of my teeth on your skin,
The way I caress your face with my hair,
And the way I tell you in sordid details,
How and what I will do to you, as you close
Your eyes and simmer within your limbs,
Ir's the blood I draw, teasing your breasts,
Pulling your dark nipples between my tongue, and lips
And penetrate you, my vessels, my fingers and my wrists
Bringing you closer, out of your Polar sleep, coloring you
In hues deep, my reds, and oranges, my ambers and golds,
Breaking your skin, I sip in, flooding you in my filth,
My disease, erecting in you my Celestial Ghosts, taking you
Mouth to mouth, lips devouring lips, breathing in you,
With you on all fours, crawling, on your belly,
Every pores,Oriffices, and cavities

Your creature, your Ghoul, of your wanting,
Your discretions, Your Wicked Beauty, Your descent,
Your fall, your words, papers, your dreams, your metall,
My maidens, my mermaids,my whores, my Goddesses, my alter,
My humor, my geography, my bones,the casteration you wittnessed,
The chill, my winter, my season, my Saphire skys, my call,
My morsels, my dagger, your throat, your damage, my soul

And the mirror I give you,
the beauty you will find, porcelain skin,
Long Blackened mane, pouting lips of red,
All, and all, my allowance to you, so
You come again, and take a closer
Look in the woods

Posted by Idinraha at 04:55 PM | Comments (0)

February 26, 2005

Casey was not killed by a bullet

I am sitting here, hoding my hands,
The taste of cigarette, bitter in my mouth,
Asking myself, if Casey knew, after the last blow,
Did she wake up smiling that morning,
Did she hum a tune in the shower,
Did her hair glisten in the light,
And her blue eyes radiated with life.

There is a deliberate anger to this city
A quiet shame, that does not walk uptown,
Does not wear tuxedoes, or hail a cab,
There are plantations south of Bronx,
And Harlem is where, slabs of meat
Are cut from the bones, and young Chicanos
Look for their names in deserted basketball
Courts, as weed grows within the cracks of their skulls

Casey slept with the Black man, she
gave herself to a Latino, selfless
She opened her wound to a Hobo,
And drank 100 proof, with a
Hooker named Bob, on her
Knees, gapping mouth,
she wellcomed their shame,
And housed their pain, she
Stood by the MET, and stared,
Taking her clothes off, one by one
And stood bare, as the City watched.

There is a quiet Heresy growing here,
Inside the Churches, silent moves,
And stays, Behind the alters, young boys
Are raped and blessed by Holly water,
Cock mouthed, bent, violated by
Priests, wearing Calvin Kline underwears,
Hiding their hard penises.

Casey got her best lay, pinned
Against a wall by the wall Street,
And after she was left with a twenty
Dollar bill, she cried, for she had never
Been paid, not by the Latino, the Black man,
Or the Hobo, But the White Man in Pin Stripe suit
Had to pay her, to seprate himself.

Something in her blew to pieces,
She yellped, and asked the every day withnesses,
Am I not your daughters, sisters, mothers, or sons,
They turned their back, hailed their Yellow Cabs,
Waiting for the morning papers, to tell them, how they felt,
Casey Was Not Killed By a Bullet.

Posted by Idinraha at 02:56 PM | Comments (1)

Breakfast

Opening the kitchen door,
I let the morning air inside,
Fill the kettle with water,
And promise of coffee

You enter the kitchen,
Stretching the remainder of your sleep
From the creases of your pajamas,
Your hair unkempt, eyes half open,
Your bones holding your shel,hesitant,
Awakaning in your joints

Sitting by the window,behind the table
You look out, searching for words
You could not find last night,
I set the bread, cheese, and
The coffee on the table, then
Move behind you, holding
You around your shoulders

You lean back,
With your head against my breasts
And say,"sorry", as I find my way
Under your shirt, you sigh
Leaning further back to me

I come around, and kneel
Reach out, hoding you
in my hand, turn my head up
So you see the mischief in my eyes
And then we share our breakfast

Posted by Idinraha at 02:23 PM | Comments (0)

February 23, 2005

Maybe....

Posted by Idinraha at 05:19 PM | Comments (0)

February 22, 2005

Your flesh, My bones............................for Laura Brown

I am hungry mother,
My belly aches,
i sit at the kitchen table
Waiting for you,
Watching my bowl of soup,
Pieces of bread,
But the hallway is empty

I am taller now mother,
Carrying your face on my head,
You never saw my breasts
The pink soft flesh, my brown nipples
My tenderest skin, between my legs
Has bled, for I am a woman now, your girl

I am a wife now mother,
Claimed by a man, I am a caretaker,
I pick up his laundry, cook him dinner
Iron his shirts, and make little conversations
At the dinner table,
The way you did , with a smile on your face,
He is as tall as the man you left

He has seen my breasts
And penetrated me, between my legs,
Crawled on me like a reptile
And lapped on my skin with his tongue, and cock
I have accepted him
The way you did, with a smile on your face
He is as distant , as the man you left

I am hungry mother,
Yet I can not eat
I open the doors of his house
The windows, yet I can not breathe
My breasts have faded, my skin reveals my bones
While I try to find my face in pictures you left
I cut you from me-- your flesh, my bones

I am hungry mother
With your eyes sinking in my face,
I tell myself, I am in control,
Holding my intakes,
But he breaks my fast, violates my regimen
While i crouch and tremble
the way you did, with a smile on my face
He is as kind as the man you left

I am hungry mother
With a question that fill my days
A question you can answer,
Did it get better after you left
Did the hunger go away

Posted by Idinraha at 11:48 AM | Comments (2)

Shams

Shams, forever dervish,
I made my way, vagabond,
Floating in breeze, I slept
With the last petal of rose,
And drank its nectar,
Wrapped in robe of many colors,
I kneeled at breath of a sunset,
Surets, verses on my tongue
I wept, and sniffed the soil,
damp and pungent

Shams, forever lover,
Dont bound me in ropes,
I dare your rapture
I carry this soil in me
This earth, arrogant mother
That walks away in times,
days, by seduction of the sun
And attraction of the moon,
Blue in desire, while the stars
come to vouyer in burst of lights

Pour me another,
Of your crimson wine, so
Longing subsides the reason,
So I dance crazed in alleys and circles
As my sight soars beyond the realms
Above this golden dome, to the eyes of gods
With my apostles, drunken whores, their hair
Spent, angels naked, lost in prayers
leaving the gatekeepers in disarray

Tell me
Ofthe secrets you dared
Thoughts of mayhem,
Awaken the souls of the sinners,
Call them in your surrets and psalms.
To see the unseen in a glare
Let sin be the guide, as we marvel
In it's scent, lets yellp, and holler
At the top of these heaps

And when done,
Left in tears and sweats,
And the orgy of corpses dead
Wake me to a song, a whisper
Wash me in Rose water,
Call me a name, baptize me
In your breath,
As the angels sing us a hymn
With the father and the son,
Standing afar
bring me to a new birth

Posted by Idinraha at 11:13 AM | Comments (0)

All the pretties........................By Metalnymph

Throats bared to a dulcet wine
Running jugular veins
Lips primed in opulent decor
Mouthing a bloom of stains

-Treasured femmes-
In fur wrapped skins
Glossed curls framing features
pale bossom bared
Glass eyes snared
Gilded palette of entcing creatures

Behind closed doors
In whispered hush
Craving rises with the stars
To blaze those places
Painting enraptured faces
Common senses straying far

On a cracked mirror, bare
To gaze on fair
-beauty-
Rising like a tidal in the sea
Writhing deep in oceans
In fluid motion
Setting currents coursing free

A wanton kiss
From plush lips
-Bliss-
Tracing rivers in easy line
Saffron honeyed dew
Of greedy tongues who knew
Luscious kisses placed
-Divine

Posted by Idinraha at 10:52 AM | Comments (0)

February 20, 2005

My right eye

Some one knocked at the door, and ran away, sensibilities of surrender, grace of acceptance, I have walked in these roads, and I have looked, with your eyes, I have seen the suunrise, and stood helpless at sunsets, oh tommorow, somehow I shrugg, somehow, I hope, Indiferences scare me, like shapless ghosts, that I only see with my eyes closed, there should be songs I can whisper, to calm me down, The boy in me, still remembers, the boy me is sad, its the sunsett, and the smell of fresh air dusted on the balconies, its the damp soil, its earth, and the convulsion of these roots I have spread, the sooth of dreams, and the reach of sleep, I like my right eye, it sees less, it sees in blown up hues, with no consentration, it sees vague, soft, it does not focus, it can not judge, its the closeness that makes its reality, no depth, just soft wodering light, and kindness of shadows, that mix and merge. I will not see you with my left eye, I would not judge you, or cherrish your colors, its a privilage I have to close these windows, when the lights glare. You can not hurt me, the damage, is my trophy, the damage that came early, and nothing was ever the same. You can not hurt me, even when we play hide and seek, I close my eys, and listen to you breathe, and I know where to find you, my shiny doll, the one I dressed, in pinks and violets. She knew, for one shining moment she knew, but I could not accept her stares, she had to go away. And these wound I keep, this thirst I wont let go, this severe detachment of indiferences. I would not allow you to feel safe, I would not , that would be the death of you and the end of games. So come back, after the kill, when I have closed my right eye, and you can see the pieces of flesh, on my teeh, and the blood, still warm, dripping from my chin, when the urges are satisfied, and death at hand, reachable like a dream, and I will offer you a morsel.........

Posted by Idinraha at 12:08 PM | Comments (4)

Your Kite.................................... a poem by Fereydoon

I remember
On the roof top
In middle of the city
Flying your kite
As I pulled the string
Making it go higher
Letting it go more,
As it got smaller
Sitting on the wind

Then it dove lower
going side way
Among the skycrapers
To my left
Where the mountain was
Where Christ stood tall
With his arms stretched

You walked up
The narrow stairway
I don't know what we said
It didn't matter
I could see it in your eyes
And the smile on your face

I left your kite
On the other side of the earth
In the southern hamisphere
Above the ocean
In Rio

On this side
It's raining hard
I see the lightning
And hear the thunder

Posted by Idinraha at 11:53 AM | Comments (4)

February 18, 2005

where do you go when you are lonely

Thats the title of a song by Kors, The lead singer is a hot number, look her up, the song is beautiful, well, it seems Cyrus has made some of us, more interested in himself, by not saying much, thats his style. Fereydoon is back, leaving us comments, we need a LOVE MONGER like him amongst us, he also has very very definite ideas about God, and his being, thanks my gigolo. Cyrus has tried his hand in humor, successfully, he has left a very funny comment. I cleaned up my office today, there were papers piling up, so I cleaned up, gave Mr, Flynn, my assistant lots of papers to sort through. cracked the window, and let the fresh air come in. Today, I have to do lots of reviews, on POETS.COM, so I can earn new quails to write poems again. Talked to Liisa yesterday, read her my new poems, she loved them. You know I could go for ACADEMIC life, I called her and woke her up at 1:pm , can you believe this. we have woderfull conversations, she refuses to log into the site, thinking if she does that, I will not call her anymore, and she would not hear my poems with my voice. She has promissed to take pictures of her paitings and send them to us, so we can post them. not bad, being 5'8" , long limmbed blonde, with a beautifull face, and PHD from Harvard, and on top of it, being an artist, and paint, some of us are more blessed than others. but she has worked very hard to get where she is and, she is a delight. You know, I feel so lucky, having friends, like Liisa, Cyrus,Fereydoon,Metal, Mehrnoosh, Arman, and a sister like Maryam, I am sure you all love me, and enjoy my compony in these pages. I know I am lovely, Kind, intelligent, humerous, and all together, a RENAISSANCE MAN, or maybe A PHILOSOPHER KING, hehe, who needs attention and an audiance all the time. thanks for the complimants, I needed that, I can see Cyrus's smirk, and Fereydoon sighing while ho looks up in disgusst.But that feels better already, so I go review some poems, and get back to you all later.

Posted by Idinraha at 10:55 AM | Comments (1)

Blessing

Posted by Idinraha at 10:53 AM | Comments (0)

February 17, 2005

Book Of Promises..............................love letters in making

When Marjan, asked me to go and buy EPT, I knew something was up, so I found my way to the Drug Store and bought three of them. I also bought me a note book, witha colorful cover, greens, yellows, and purples. After marjan tested Positive, I showed her the Book, telling her , I am going to start writing to him/her, whatever it was going to be. she smiled, and I started that night, writing the BOOK OF PROMISES, for Amin, I wrote about myself, introducing me, and his mother, who we were, and how inexperienced and new we were to this, but I assured him, we both knew LOVE, we had fell in love at first sight, and he could be certain, He would get Love, more than anything else. I think the book was my way of dealing with his promise, the newness of him, and the road we were taking. Amin came to our lives in a difficult period, financially we had lost our business and I was starting anew, and we also had problems, growing up problems in our relationship. And he was the gift, that made everything easy. He brought Love with him, unconditional Love, and his smile, that was, and is always present on his face. He took my breath away, and became the center of my universe. We had such wonderfull time together, Him and I, only us. selfish, yes but when we were together no one mattered, and the bond was so obvious. He is still adamant about how he loves me, more than anyone else. and knows, nobody loved him more than I did, and do. Untill the Purplestarnana, my Kiana came around, we had four exclusive years. and then, he had to share me with the spitfire that is Kiana. I wrote in that book for four years, and Amin will get it on his Eighteenth birthday. Kiana has her own book too, but that's whole another story.

Posted by Idinraha at 04:00 PM | Comments (1)

Goddess............................your sapphic erotics

Oh, my unexpected,
How I yearn for you,
The fluid currency of you
Flooding in urges and wantings,
Lucient, lumminious,and sleek,
merging in me, streams, running quietly
Wearing down the stones I make,
The sculpted, Weathered ego, and Id,
The essence of sands, Time , and wind

And the hues you bring,
In ginger, golds, and ambers,
As we sit side by side, mixing
Colors, in sanded croded particles,
A pinch of exhuliration, bits of extasy,
Dashes of pain, anticipation, and longing,
Tears, salts of the earth, your sweat,
The liquidity of reds, in your veins,
As you cut your skin, and let it drip, along
The side of your fingers, the last taboo, the
Urgency of desires, mixed in wooden pots,
So the memories of woods, athrophies, the greens
Lushes and living, the cries of the owls, and howls
Of the wolves, the thirst of a hunt, and happiness
Of a kill, all , and all, for me, then you reach beyound
The Celectial ghosts, and bring me the Blues of Saturn,
Solitude of Mars, Silvers of Mercury, and dusts of the Moon

Then you lay me naked,
With Golden coins on my eyes, and brush me your paint,
In gentle strokes, My face, my arms, breasts, my nest,
Tighs, and legs, all done, in your colors, your
Laboring inspirations, your Sapphic erotics,
And you bring me a mirror, open my eyes, and
Show me your Goddess.

Posted by Idinraha at 03:36 PM | Comments (0)

flowing

Posted by Idinraha at 01:17 PM | Comments (0)

February 16, 2005

Celestial ghosts

Posted by Idinraha at 12:14 PM | Comments (1)

February 15, 2005

Donae....................................................by KLIMT

Posted by Idinraha at 04:59 PM | Comments (1)

Valentine card...........................from Marjan

I love that you married me,
Knowing that
It wouldn't be simple
That living with me
Was unlikely
To be a walk in the park

I love it that out of all
The thousands of ways
It could have turned out,
My life turned to you

And now, everything marriage
Has brought us--
The good times and hard times,
All the fun and struggle and change--
This sweet
Complicated togetherness of ours....
I love it. I love you.

Posted by Idinraha at 10:42 AM | Comments (3)

February 14, 2005

SAND STORM................................(the urgency of love)

Remember the sand storm
the majestic havoc that veiled
Covering the air, against
The sky's amber and red, the golden hues
That became brown dusts and fell

Love comes so unpredictable,
No, no , it does not come, it hurls
Clear as crystals allowing the light
It does not knock, it breaks in, plunges
And falls in a muffled hush, and then
The days get brighter crisp, colors bloom
in contrasts, in sleek hues,
And how I did not expect you,
Not here, not now,

Remember the sand storm,
Where the skys were red,
bleeding in orange, and amber,
Then the thin layers of brown and gold,
AS the satrs were erased and fell, and
The sky was lost, like flights of locusts
Remember the first time, you knew,
That you loved me, with your hand
On my shoulder, your arm severed
my head, my face , held against
The aprehension of the sky,
As you stood, needy and lost,
wearing your loneliness, and
Your dry lepperous stare

And remember how I wanted you,
the totality of you, , to carry you
In me, in my pockets, like a secret
That only I knew, a treasure I could
bring out alone, in images, in words,
and read, recite, and play

Remember the cave we found,
The shelter, keeping us away,
and how you set a fire, read me to sleep
and how I slid next to you, feverish as I was
Cold, how I needed you, and loved you, that
It had cracked my bones, pulled my fleah, and
Burned my skin, and blew me to pieces, that
dusted the air- the knowing that I love you,
Here, and now, remember the sand, the storm.

Posted by Idinraha at 12:18 PM | Comments (1)

Virginia

Virginia
Stepped in the water,
like stepping into the Ball,
All dresseup, all aprehension,
She will soon hear the music
And her dance card will be filled
By young gents wanting to know of
the delicacy of her condition, as they
twirl and turn, makin impressions,
Their hair sleeked back, their moustashes
Oiled, anxiously tormented by her presence,
Her cold Blue eyes, and the silence she wore
Like beads around her neck, her hands

Oh Virginia
Your ghosts are still here
Walking the hallways, their voices
like nails against the window glasses
shatter the proper sensibilities of living
The constant yearning that enveloped your days,
The anticipation of a reality deformed, debased
And tilted, in all hours of waking, this severe
Sense of belonging to everything that's not here,
every thing that prances on fringes of maddness,
Your disshelfed brohaha, your silence

And the answer, deep within the cold surrender
Of the lake, as the water reached up, accepting
You, like a lulaby, promise of a sleep, now reachable
At hand, another step, as your feet left the earthly
Bottom, the plunge, the release, filling you fluid and calm,
The helpless happiness that drowned you, as fears left, voices
The angst of blending and the mediocraty of living, then came
The peace, the quiet deliverence, floating weightless

Posted by Idinraha at 11:41 AM | Comments (0)

In the gloaming..................by METALNYMPH

-Claim me-
When the day is spent
Exhusted on fumes of lust
And skies swell to sapphires
settling on eyes as dust
A window of a soul
Tortured by twilight's warm
embrace
laid open, bleeding on flames
Spilling forth to give a taste

-Shape me-
As I fall into your arms
All silky as water flows
You flush my skin in shades of
Peach
As covetous desire grows
Calling out your name
A face lost to the haze
I conjure images you paint for me
Artfully set jewels in a maze

-Take me-
In the gloaming
When twilight bows to stars
And light has dipped just low enough
To soothe deep running scars
Who lay inside, you kiss them soft
To melt away in streams
Deep pools you fill. brilliant azure
A prelude to my dreams

Posted by Idinraha at 11:17 AM | Comments (1)

February 13, 2005

Norway sunset.....................................a gift from Metal

Norway is METAL's ancestoral land, and such a treat

Posted by Idinraha at 12:35 PM | Comments (0)

February 12, 2005

Majestic

Posted by Idinraha at 09:58 AM | Comments (1)

February 11, 2005

Fire works

when love finds you...........

Posted by Idinraha at 11:07 AM | Comments (1)

February 10, 2005

Crossing

let us dare, let us ask, and we may.........

Posted by Idinraha at 10:28 AM | Comments (1)

February 09, 2005

How do I love thee........................by Amelie

How do I love thee?
Let me count the ways
But I can not think
I do not remember
I like to be alone

MY love
You are whole, and free
I am not, I need you to love me
I need to be alone,
I need you to love me a lot,
I think I love you

I dont trust you
To love me, but
I trust you with my life
As I am trying to grow up
I need to be a woman,
Trusted and respected, grown,
A mother wife thing, nothing special
Just a good woman
But I am still
A girl-thing

but when I am grown
I will tell you
How I love thee,
With my heart, my mind,
and so much better
With my body

But my body now,
Is a suspicious mengy
long limbed ugly thing
Waiting to be tricked,
Exposed
And analyzed,

And I will bite
If you take my pyjamas,
Leave my wooly bunny alone,
Leave me to my nightmares
My nightsweats, and
My Wolfe hours

Posted by Idinraha at 05:33 PM | Comments (1)

MY BOy,.......................by Amelie

Bits of lightness
Of the moon,
On your forehead,
The blood of a hot play
And imaginings, on your cheeks

Your scalp my baby,
Sweetly sticky
Fragrant with young sweat
Serious and proud
Demanding eyes,
Odly free

-My eyes
As they could have been
Had I been safe, and loved
For just being me,
Alive, growing up

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

Driving in Autumn

These days,
I feel more aware,
Driving by Autumn trees,
It's not my age, I shrug,
Or does it matter, but the joy
Of watching Autumn trees go by,
The Yellows, brown ambers, oranges,
and the fading greens, bring such
An urge in me, to paint them on paper,
The textures of a fledging life
As it shines against the sky gray

It will be colder soon,
And I will enjoy the feel of my sweaters
Against my body, as I sink within their warmth
Raising my colors, or buttoning my coat,
Fall can be so coy, so private,
The woolen socks, hats, and oh, long scarfs
Making me feel snuggled, warm and safe

I wear my beard fuller these days
Black and gray thick whiskeres
Covering my face, like a blanket
This serenity that has taken me over,
Stillness of sort, no fleeting emotions,
But a certain comfort, not foggy or benevelont,
But delibrate, and clear, standing up within me,
filling me, pores and cavities, bones skull,
Like a return, or accepting of sort,
It has opened me , and walked in, claiming me all.

Posted by Idinraha at 02:12 PM | Comments (2)

The Bitch, the cunt

Feeling etheral, misty, weightless,
Not defined, or bounded by my bones
Or skin, moving beyound, as electic
Bolts, run in fusion, under my skin,
And thousands of mermaids sing a hymn
Above the chorous of harps, fluid, moving
Notes, carrying on still waves, tides soft
Whimpering quiet, on gentle breezes

I am all glass, with silhuettes of lights
All fragile, breakable, brusing by a touch
Exposed, in exhibition, spread, displayed
As I crawl on, skinless, with lights burning
My flesh, in blue brown spots, Yet I go on,
on my knees, standing up, my hands reaching,
My arms in flight, taking the layers off, one by one

And this is where I live,
Where I come alive, of my choosing,
This is where I reach, I cut, blossom,
And bleed, as my heart quickens in rhythms and hymns,
In glare of lights, and the voices, calling me
-The bitch, the cunt- , but I know I reach them
Through the irrises of their eyes, my scent, my filth,
As I pressure the hook, cut the membranes, and larva in
Their psyche, painless and numb

And I spike their blood with Purple potions,
Mercury and metal, grounded in horns of beasts
And fangs of bloated bats, oosing in blood,
So, they are taken by the bitch, the cunt

Posted by Idinraha at 01:49 PM | Comments (0)

Sleeping with Amin, and Kiana

Walking upstairs,
He pushes me gently,
While she hangs on my side,
"tell us a scary tale tonight",
Says Kiana, while Amin yells, HAHAHA

I lay in the middle,
With my arms open,
They wash their teeth,
Joining me afterward,
He smells like hickory, raw
She smells soap fresh,
She kisses my hand and falls in me,
I hold them both, on either side,
Scarching his arm,while I stroke her hair

We play hide and seek,
With our eyes closed,
as they fidgid and turn,
Trying to best each other,
"are you down stairs"
"are you behind the couch"
"are you in the closet",
We laugh, play words,
Talk, and whisper, three of us
As the night passes behind the window

He turns toward me, burrying his face in my chest,
Bringing his legs over mine, leaning, he snuggles,
She pushes her back on my side, while her feet touch my legs,
Gently pushing her lips on my arm, and I think, this is where
I belong, My alter, my prayers, my riches, and my find
"I love you so much ", I whisper
Holding them ever closer, as sleep comes

Posted by Idinraha at 01:26 PM | Comments (0)

Tracing the slope

She walks carefully
As if she is bringing water
From the well,
And a missed footing
Would cause a spill

Her breasts,
Heaving, hanging
She walks with her
Hand holding her belly

We talk,
Respinning the web,
I sleep closer to her,
She holds the wonder
And so generous,
She holds me too,
And we sleep better

The house
Is our coccon,
Holding us in haze of comfort
She stands in the mirror, naked
Tracing the slope of her body,
As I check the windows for a draft
And lock the doors,
And we wait

Posted by Idinraha at 01:15 PM | Comments (2)

Fluid

So beautiful, so cold, and lonely, we add so much to the scenery by
our existance, lets walk through.........

Posted by Idinraha at 07:57 AM | Comments (0)

February 08, 2005

Cutting my breast

He looks so clean, so young, With his skin shining white, His eyes fierce and cold, his hands with long fingers, shaped like a knife, And his teeth bright all standing right for The indifference of his smile, he talks with His eyes looking out, announcing the latest discoveries, The urgency of the operation, and the potency of this disease, " We have to remove", he says, "we have to excise, and take away The skin, the flesh, the lymph nodes", like pieces of left overs after dinner, and in my mind I try to picture, if I can stand balanced with One breast, He will be carefull, not to cut beyound what he should, And I think, if I could be as confident knowing where to stop, Again he say, " pulling the remainder of skin over a sillicone sack, We could reconstruct, and give you even a new nipple", a new nipple, Better than what I had, he warns, there would be bleeding, tubes in My chest, puss, infections,(in rare cases, he assures), and then I Get COMFIES, like stuffing tissues in my bra, so I would look normal, I can get therapy, see a shrink, and talk to women like me,in a group, LOPPSIDED LEPPERS,walking unballanced, hunched like me,and every two Of us together would be complete. And I think, I should tear my Blouse, in the middle of 42nd street, and show me whole, show me Untouched, unbutchered, all in one piece, and let every men to come Afront, touch them, tease them, tongue my nipples, and teeth them, One last time, for the sake of all I remember of them together, Nipples high, standing proud, MY BREASTS, together mine

Posted by Idinraha at 04:43 PM | Comments (0)

Soul Suppression.............by METALNYMPH

Pinpoint the moment of explosion
Rapid heartbeat a prelude
To the rushing of blood
Alive in my ears,
veines aching with the need
To be lost in skin

-I feel the ache-

Sinking into this desperation
Now drowned in water
By my right hand
The explosion floods over
Spilling down twisted features
Swelling violent white inside

-I feel the ache-

Clawing as this progresses
Sharp aims reduce the edge
I play-act in my mind
Away from crouched knees
Pavement acts as structure
I could sit here all night

-I feel the ache-

Wondering at this moment
Miles away the TV drones
An unreachable silhouette is one,
Two, three, four , five steps away
Clutch my sword a little tighter
Not the time to give in

-I feel the ache-

Admissions of guilt
Bowing down before
rare utterance begin a surrender
I pocket iced teardrops
Who become my weapons
Because who survives un-armed ?

Posted by Idinraha at 04:05 PM | Comments (1)

Breathless

breathtakingly beautiful, find me that sky, and take me away...........

Posted by Idinraha at 01:03 PM | Comments (2)

February 07, 2005

Your wife

My love,
You stare cold,
As your logic cuts
In sharp edges, every word
You disect, reason, and dominate,
As I sit quiet, and take you

Inside my head,
The callous femme,
All hunched, by the door,
Her hair, golden highlights,
Leotard covered limbs, wih callases
Bruised toes, heels, in black circles,
skin thight on her face, pulled, a new nose,
A new chin, sillicone sacks, holding her breasts,
Toned muscles, trained weekly, six hours, built anew,
The woman you wanted, stretched, made to perfection,
And yet, you imply as polite as you are, that somthing is missing

After all these years, all the skins I shed, to feed your boredom,
-Your whore, not a wife, for the necassity of your agression, laid,
Spread, coke mouthed, doggy style, from the side,swallowing your cum,
At your command, poses, jests, on my knees, on all fours, submitted
To every form, your whore, fucked, fucked, and yet fucked again, in
Every pores, and orifices, hard, so she does not even remember,
Where She was left, how she got here, finding indifferences,
In mirror Less frames, and yet she is here, the greedy femme,
Pacing, tense, Trying to guess, your next move, your
Latest whim, lost, knowing, she is yours,
Yours to claim, yours to hold, or throw away.

Posted by Idinraha at 04:10 PM | Comments (1)

The Goul, and the Mermaid,..............for Cyrus

You, You stopped me
To a halt,- Me full of
Brouhaha, full of colors, textures,
Dusts of the moon, the reds of Mars,
And the Rays of the sun,
-Me, all flesh, no skin,
Bothered, bewildered, raw,
Tender as a sigh, and wanting as life
And you stopped me, to a halt

-Me , the greedy femme.
All wanting, all desire,
uninhibited like sin,
naked and soft
-And you, all marble,
Metals and stones,
Braided in tins and alloys
All standing, all bones
And daggers, silent, resolute,
Knowing and tall

And my growth,
Weeding on you, my scent,
and filth,my humor, like
A juvenile hyena, aching for a kill
A crown thorned, for your majestic head
A love shredded , by paws, teeth and fangs
The kill, I bring to you, the blood
I draw, nailing my scabs, my wounds
For you, to stain your core,
I mouth you my soul, a kiss
And lick your cold, your surface,
Leaving you ice blossoms

And yet , you don't know,
You, do not know

Posted by Idinraha at 02:22 PM | Comments (1)

Take me there

Well, what can I say , just take me there..............

Posted by Idinraha at 02:00 PM | Comments (2)

February 04, 2005

My son at Eleven

I have sang to him
Many times, many seasons,
As days rushed us by, and his feet
Got too big for his hsoes,
We have sang along,
Banging our hands on the dashboard,
With smiles on our faces, bonding
Father and son

Used to hold him
Across my chest, his face
Burried on my shoulder,
His feet dangling to my side,
In dark rooms, hallways,
Moving him lightly, up and down,
As he found sleep, between the scent
Of my shirts, and my body's warmth
"You feel up my senses" , I would sing
Knowing how fleeting the moment,
How precious, my eyes would tear

At eleven,
He stands tall to my chin
I used to be his Christopher Robin,
He was my Pooh Bear, with
Hundred Acres Wood so near,
But , we wrestle these days,
Talk a lot more, tangle our arms,
Pushing each other, pawing his head
Trying to learn different ways
To know of each other
And he still kisses me on my lips
Telling me, He loves me,
Knowing how fleeting the moments would be
How precious, my eyes would tear

Posted by Idinraha at 05:08 PM | Comments (3)

Her Picture

She is anxious, her skin raw,
She feels the blood, tortured red,
Slithering in her , as her heart pumps,
And the scent sours, as she has obsorbed
Tinted metal and mercury, dosed in red
Unchained, corrupts her within, oozing
Eager, wanton,seduced and bothered,
To her center, leaving traces of
damp affection, raw, needy

In her head, a goddess is bared
In all her majesty, left on an alter
Of black cold mosaic, naked, twiching,
Hands bound, feet in chain, her face painted,
In gold and silver, eyes made in black,
Lips crimson red, And then, there comes
The Ghoul, the beast, one eyed, crased,
Horns grown of his head, majestic,
All naked, coarse hair covering his frame,
He finds the goddess, stands in horror,
Of the contrast, that has been made

He holds her legs, caresses the skin,
Leaving his demons on the portrayed,
The touch, the texture, the scent,
The lines that flow and shape, in
Hues, cream peach and pink, the
Subtle curves of the beloved,
Her thighs, her nest, the soft
Flesh of her belly, her bossoms
Delicately drawn, the neck, the face,
The eyes, and her mane, beauty in abundance
So displayed, he stands aghast, tortured,
He turns, flees the stage, the light goes dead

She is anxcious, her skin raw,
In her head, the day is near,
The night spent, the goddess alone
With no one to claim, the beast is gone,
Without a trace, and she waits, she waits...

Posted by Idinraha at 04:44 PM | Comments (1)

February 03, 2005

Beauty Meant by Metalnymph

Shall I rim eyes with violet,
For my soul to clearly be seen
Or rinse my hair in shades of wine
So beauty truly gleams

Will perfumed skin invite you in
To feast, as if tasting bliss,
Shall i paint my lips with Eastern Star
To embelish an ardent kiss

Will you drink me all
Catch as they fall
Amillion crystalline tears
Or fill my lungs, just like a drug
To numb relentless fears

-Beauty Meant-
This naked canvas just as lovely
as The Fake
Clean virgin skin and loose hair
Beckon.......
As I lay awake

Posted by Idinraha at 02:59 PM | Comments (1)

February 01, 2005

Partner Dancing

And the possibility of you Being here, holding my hands, The allowance you made me, With a look, a touch, as you entered into me, Soft shoes, dance stepped, closer by a breathe, Moving within my space, crowding me, stubbornly quiet, The allowance of time, and place the ease of my surrender, As you turned, opening your arms, swiftly turning me around On my heals, pushing me out, as your fingeres tripp down my arms, Softly catching me with your fingertips, and bringing me in, to your Side, your arms holding me around, circling my waist, to my hip, as You bring me to a hault, side by side, you and me, genly swaying, on Our toes, heals, and the proximity of you, whispering in my ear, Your Breathe warm, your voice, a soothing vesel,moist in my ear, telling Me, politely, to slow down my rhythm, and let you lead, as I lean Into you, willingly taken

Posted by Idinraha at 11:06 AM | Comments (1)

January 31, 2005

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)

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)

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)

January 26, 2005

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)

January 24, 2005

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)

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)

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)

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)

January 18, 2005

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)

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)

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)

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)

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)

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)