The storyteller

 

I’m a desiccated teardrop

On a raft of solitude,

Heading out to woeful sea

Of melancholy and misery.

 

Deserted by all whom I’ve loved

In Incantation of death,

I make my wretched way

Through this dreary, futile life.

 

I see no friends,

Nor Foes.

 

Yet hope shined into my being erewhile,

When I met that angel,

That mesmerizingly beautiful creature,

Who now appears only in my dreams.

 

Words fail me over and over,

Breath has deserted my lungs.

No language sufficient enough,

None melodic enough.

 

I’m alone with this feeling.

I shall not ask to be understood,

Only listened to.

 

I’m the doomed narrator.

The bard of broken hearted,

Forever lost solitary storyteller.

 

New beginning in a new city

 

I feel lost

In an ocean of thoughts.

 

No one shall know

About the whale of a heart

That has been beached

On these shores.

 

Journey was short, yet wearisome.

All that remains

Is the reflection of a broken boy,

In a cracked rusting mirror.

 

Sense of belonging has disappeared,

Replaced by a fear of alienation.

But that shall disappear,

Like ripples on water.

 

Home is where the heart is,

And my heart needs a home.

Isolation has expanded,

To the corners of my being.

Filling the void

Love left behind.

 

Head bowed,

I avert my gaze.

Girls snicker,

Boys point and mock.

 

They enrolled me in a school,

So many faces, yet the same.

So much heartache,

All different.

Even this shall have an ending,

I’ll bet my life on it.

I won’t be here too long,

“Nothing worth learning can be taught.”

 

Years are seconds,

When you live in your mind.

 

Roses and Lilies

(Based on the poetry of H. Mosadegh)

 

“Thank you” you said smiling,

Not knowing with what guilt

I had picked the red rose

From the school’s gardens.

“But, I like lilies” you said,

Not noticing my struggle to hide my crushed heart.

Yet, I still hear those words

As whispers in my daydreams.

 

“I have to go…” you said and turned,

And I shan’t forget the first few steps

You took away from my existence,

Leaving me with the red rose in my hand.

 

I can’t help but to question sometimes,

Drowned in wonderment,

Why our little house

Didn’t have a garden.

 

“They Fuck You Up”

 

‘For fuck sake,’

‘Will you fucking look at that?’

‘It’s fucking unbelievable ey?’

‘You ain’t fucking wrong.’

‘Fucking nice though.’

‘For fuck sake!’

‘What the fuck?’

‘You fucking...’

‘Fuck do you mean?’

‘You’re fucking it up.’

‘Fuck that!’

‘Oh, fuck off then.’

‘For fuck sakes...’

‘No, fuck you.’

‘Fucking...Fine then...

She’ll have the salad.’

 

Courtship

 

‘It’s nice to be here’ said Mum.

‘You have a lovely home’ said Dad.

‘Thank you’ they said.

 

‘This is our son’ said Mum.

‘He’s a good boy’ said Dad.

‘That’s nice’ they said.

 

‘He likes your daughter’ said Mum.

‘We thought they match’ said Dad.

‘She’s gay’ they said.

 

‘This is our daughter’ said Mum.

 

 

Over the mountain

 

I shall buy the ticket.

I shall be on that train.

Beyond these tracks, there is a town

Where the skies are blue, even in sleet or rain.

Mountains over these

Are greener than Sohrab’s dreams.

They have apples for lovers,

And for painters, a lilac stream.

Crimson colour of the ink

They fill their angelic pens with.

They dine together as one;

Rest with flowers and have feathers as their seats.

They keep company of youthful prickets.

One must buy the ticket.

 

Daydreamer

 

I think I Could Read the Sky.

I think I could Hitchhike through the Galaxy.

I think I know How to be Good.

Cassius could not have deceived me.

I think I hear Silence of the Lambs.

I think I belong in Norwegian Wood.

I think I understand Crime and Punishment.

Nineteen-Eighty-Four smelt like anarchy.

I think I’ve been through War and Peace.

I think I’ve painted Portrait of a Lady.

I think I’ve met the Count of Monte Cristo.

Dreams of being amongst High Society.

A Papillon, Jean Christophe, a Nicholas Nickleby.

For Whom the Bell Tolls, The Unbearable Lightness of Being.

 

The Ghost

 

I dwell between the circles of hell,

And the seven heavens above.

 

I yearn for affection, passion.

Long for amiability and truelove.

 

I fear your nightmares, wars, your hate.

Fear your clubs, your parties, your lit streets.

 

I envy those who touch; who feel;

Envy those content with their broken dreams.

 

I see your everyday struggle, your pain,

See the naked truth. Sadness and cries.

I’m trapped with heartache and sorrow,

Secrets and lies.

I wish you noticed me, so that I could say:

This world you and I share, is falling short of your care.

 

Lost Generation

(Based on the poetry of Pablo Neruda) 

 

Do you remember me?

I was that boy, who lived in that town,

 

The town we called the greatest.

It was on the greenest mountain,

 

Full of flowers and trees,

Full of smiles and laughter.

 

Do you remember Saied?

The fierce slingshot in town.

The one that the bullies feared,

And we wanted to be.

We just wanted to be.

 

Do you remember the smell of bread?

The smell of kebab?

The salted fish?

Roasted chestnuts?

Rice? O’ how I miss the rice.

 

We were happy weren’t we?

We were content.

Yet they came with their planes,

And their uniforms,

And their bombs,

Guns and knives.

 

They chewed their way through our town.

Not even the dolls were safe.

 

The wreckage stands now,

And the mountains are red.

The broken flowers.

The leafless trees.

Burned out houses,

And oily seas.

 

The town is not there anymore,

We are not there anymore.

The bullies finally won.

Where is Saied?

 

We stopped laughing.

The smell of gunpowder,

Still stinging  my throat.

 

Nobody smiles anymore.

We are a lost generation.

And when they ask for a reason?

I shall say with shame:

 

“I guess our God was on strike!”

 

Results

 

I open the envelope,

See my name in capital.

Printed letters.

Numbers in bold.

Struggling to make out the subjects.

Following the invisible lines with my fingertip.

The rush of excitement.

The hope for success.

The dread of failing.

All the uncertainties.

And all becomes clear:

These percentages are what they are,

Not me,

Wasteful society,

How dare they try to define me?

 

Fucking bureaucrats!

 

House

 

Lost in music,

I make my way through the crowd.

 

Short skirts,

Tight T-shirts.

 

Fluffy Boots,

Glow Sticks.

 

Whistles,

“Make some noise.”

 

Tripping on strobes,

Bring on the Smoke Machines.

 

Low bassline,

High high-hats.

 

Here come the crash,

And we’re breaking down.

 

Movements become slow,

In tune with the strings.

 

Claps start clapping,

Snares start slamming.

 

Build-up building up,

Reverse sounds swishing.

 

And I’m free with the climax,

Body moving in time with the music.

 

Hands up in the air.

In sync with all.

 

The world is ours,

In music we trust.

 

London (1998)

 

This is where I stand,

I sit,

I sleep,

I dream.

 

Underground by my small house,

Underground on my radio,

Underground in my poetry book,

Underground my existence.

 

The hustle-and-bustle,

Endless traffic,

Car horns,

“Watch where ya going mate!”

 

Cockney neighbour,

No “Trouble and Strife”,

On the “Gypsy’s Kiss” all the time,

Down at the “Bath Tub”.

 

Pirates, House clubs, Jazz Cafes.

Ladies, Students, Two-for-One nights.

Dream Team, EZ, Pete Tong.

Bagley’s, Camden Palace, SW1.

 

Whisky, JD, Malibu with Coke.

Tequila Shots.

Watered down Pints,

“Ere mate you wanna put a flake on that?”

 

Wake up with strangers.

Mornings with regrets.

Fry ups, chewing aspirin.

“Sorry I’m broke”

 

Love, who needs it?

Does it exist?

I haven’t found it,

Never looked for it.

 

This is where I stand now,

Sit now,

Sleep now,

Dream now, waiting for tomorrow to come.

 

E

 

It doesn’t matter whether you like war or not.

An occupying force cannot succeed,

Unless they are popular with the people,

And it doesn’t seem to be the case here.

 

What you have here is a lost war,

Attacker will not win wars

Simply because he is the one risking everything.

The defender on the other hand can lay low.

 

It’s like the DJ playing a record,

They will not play the hard stuff first,

Because the Ravers will get tired,

And the party dies too early.

 

You have to be careful not to play chill-out either,

You want to get the crowd hyped gradually.

Then after they are on their feet,

You go for the kill with the banging tunes.

 

It’s all matter of planning.

You have to have foresight.

Judge the situation properly. 

 

What the hell was I talking about?

 

Scream

 

Friends are gone.

Lovers been blown away.

 

Breeze of sadness once again.

Falling stars once again.

 

Smoke of madness.

No light in the distance.

 

Blood on our hands.

Blood in the streets.

 

Waving with leather gloves.

Sex with latex rubbers.

 

Ants crawling all over us.

Spiders beneath our skins.

 

Love is gone.

Lives are ending.

 

No hope.

Everyday just a struggle.

 

Money ruled the world.

Money ruined the world.

 

Skinny models.

Bloated businessmen.

 

Old politicians.

Young musicians.

 

Underfed continents.

Overfed countries.

 

Guns by the truckload.

Mass graves.

 

Crimes of passion.

Crimes of religion.

 

Solitary confinements.

Solitary existence.

 

Friends are gone.

Lovers been blown away.

 

Metropolis

 

I kiss her on the cheek,

And wonder why?

After all I had kissed her

On the mouth before.

Before we made love

Her lips seemed enchanting.

 

Unattainable beauty

Had been mine for pleasure,

And I was willing to give my all,

Just for a chance of embrace.

Her golden waterfall hair

Seems now motionless.

 

Her lustful gaze

Turns into a cold stare.

Her intoxicating perfume

Now mix with smoke;

And those fingers once so playful,

Entertain a bloodless cigarette.

 

I stand lost.

An alien in a rose lit room.

The space, once a wonderland,

Now a wasteland.

I notice bare walls,

Pierced with an iron window.

A portal, for the broken hearted,

And lonely lovers.

 

“How was it?”

She asks in a hoarse voice,

And I can’t help remembering

Her angelic tone, which

Drowned me in a sea of melody,

Carried me to her warm shores,

And at first so eager and inviting,

Hurls me back into now tumultuous sea.

 

“Leave the money on the table,”

Just another customer.

I, who had been her knight,

Now have to join swarms of doomed,

Unsuccessful, useless, wretched,

Uncouth, hopeless men

In a kingdom ruled by credit,

Headquarters and chain stores,

With our queen, the new

Footballer’s wife.

 

I leave the money on the table,

Just another customer.

No need for another kiss,

I’ve outstayed my welcome.

I walk out, into rain.

I do up my gray jacket.

 

A man walks past me,

He doesn’t look up.

I refuse to look him in the eyes,

In case he recognised me.

We’re all strangers,

Head bowed, gray strangers.

 

We don’t smile

Because the world doesn’t smile.

He walks into her house,

Knight for the night.

I walk back,

Just another man.

 

The wounded

 

I walk past the trees,

Resembling clasped fingers,

Blocking the heavens from my tear soaked eyes.

 

I know the winter has past, yet the spring
Feels far and unreachable from here.

 

Up ahead I see light beams shining

Through the shadows of my existence.

Must reach it, must see what it might bring

Into my bleak, grey being.

 

Using my hands, hardly standing,

I make my way through the branches.

 

I see an opening, it is utterly overwhelming.

I’m in an open field finally, free, with the clouds

Crying for my forever dying soul, cleansing me

As though, I was one with the worldlings.

 

Can’t help but to wonder, who, where, why
Are we? Or this world is ultimately, what we are creating.

 

May I

 

It’s nearly here,

The time has come.

 

I see you across the room,

Dancing in your red shoes.

O’ heart don’t fail me now,

O’ words don’t desert me now.

May my past be forgotten,

May my mistakes be buried.

 

May my pride die a thousand death,

In the name of love.

 

Hope with its eternal glory

Is bound to this moment.

 

Bestow on me the wisdom

Of all the past great minds.

 

Build in me the courage

Of all the past brave-hearts.

 

The time for change has come

And I am ready.

 

Tides of disillusionment

Are reaching me.

 

Darkness of lonely nights

Must be broken.

 

I need you

Like the willow needs rain.

 

I need you,

Like the red rose needs the nightingale.

 

At your sight my heart fills,

Spilling over the brim.

 

I walk across,

Illuminated by flashing lights.

 

A free man,

Walking on air.

 

‘May I,’

Is being repeated in my head.

 

I reach you,

And you look up.

 

The time has come,

And I’m ready.

 

Once again
And, forever young. 

 

Gray

 

 

Bring back the sunshine

I’m tired of gray.

Bring back my joy.
This blue storm
Shall never cease
Without you.

Fly with me,
Till the end of time.
Bring me hope.
This caged bird
Craves the sky;
Free it with your touch.

Sing me a new song,
One without melancholy.
Play me a new act,
Thou majesty of roses.
I refuse to wither,
And grow old without you.

Pour me another drink.
These arid lips
Shall forever seek out
Your kind heart
Amidst the dry desert
Of destiny.

Bless this land of mine
With your tree of life.
Bring me April showers,
And the spring winds
To carry me through the years
Towards your blossoms.

Tell me a love story,
One with a happy ending;
You and I
Finding one another.
Once upon a time, and
Happily ever after.

 

 

Holding you

 

I feel your breath on my neck.

The gentle inhale cooling me;

Then the rushing warm exhale

Feels like a summer breeze.

 

I dare not take a breath.

I’ve held in the air in my lungs,

Just watching you

Swimming in depth of dreams.

 

Your peaceful features

Produce a sanguine effect

On my sunburned,

Melancholic face.  

 

My heart is beating, 

Rhyming with yours.

My delirium palpable,

My passion pulsing.

 

Am I asleep or awake?

I’m not sure,

You’re on my mind

Whether in sleep or wake.

 

I cannot hold my breath anymore,

I can feel my veins throbbing.

Finally bursts out of my body a whisper:

‘I adore you.’  

 

Just Because

 

 

The enchanting Irish Princess;
The gracious Queen of England;

The finest Chinese silk;
The streams in Deutschland;

The darkest Indian Gold;
The majestic Loch of Scotland,

The bewitching Persian wine-bearer;
The reddest Ruby from Thailand;

The fairest Greek Goddess;
The sweetest chocolate from Switzerland;

La belle from France;
The potent opium of Afghanistan;

I'innamorato di Italia;
The poetry of Japan;

The treasures of Egypt;
The master paintings of Amsterdam;

The clearest Diamond from Africa;
The beauty queen of America;

The music from Australia;
The royal jewels of Russia;

The vast rainforest of Brazil;
The mightiest mountain in Peru;

Even when come together,
Cannot compare to you.

 

My love

 

She said “Love” softly,

Like whispers of summer breeze,

Like fluttering of a butterfly,

Like sunlight at dawn.

 

She said “I” with excitement,

Like the first hello,

Like a knock at a friend’s door,

Like a hurrah of triumph.

 

She said “You” nervously,

Like uncertainty of future,

Like a question of mortality,

Like rejecting the Almighty.

 

Maybe I’m not doomed,

Maybe I’m not destined for woe,

Maybe I’m not down anymore,

Maybe I’m not alone anymore.

 

“Maybe tomorrow” tastes like cigarette ash,

Kiss me today, and be my love.

 

Kiss

 

 

I kiss you with my fingers,
Your skin my paradise.
 
Finding my way home
With every touch.
 
I kiss you with my fingers,
Your hair my waterfall.
 
Cleansing me
Through and through.
 
I kiss you with my fingers,
Your warmth keeping me from harm.
 
Your heartbeat
The rhythm of my life.
 
I kiss you with my fingers,
Lest my lips betray my pride.
 
Lest my words
Give away my total surrender.
 
I kiss you with my fingers,
So perhaps one day
Someone might unearth
My undying love

 

 

I kiss you with my fingers,

So my imprint might remain

When all words have vaporised

In whirlpool of your memory.

 

 

A Dream

 

I walked past you

In a paradise of a garden.

The sky bluer than any

Sea I had ever seen.

The grass making a green canvas

For the crimson, violet, white

Of the flowers bathing in the sun.

Sun, with its rays piercing the hearts

Of the perpetually shape shifting clouds.

All I wanted was to be noticed by you.

I ran and ran, chasing the invisible butterflies

With their wings coloured

The same splendour of a rainbow;

So that perhaps my youth

Might bring it all to a happy ending.

Your face empty of any emotions,

Mine full of disappointment.

Yet, I still hoped.

Hoped that maybe one day,

You’ll see me as I see you.

The dark clouds started to gather,

As to witness our great downfall.

I ran and ran to avoid the rain.

I saw an angelic figure

With open arms, calling my name.

I ran toward her,

Expecting to see your face.

I finally knelt down by her, weeping.

Crying for my forever dying soul.

Crying for all the sorrows.

Crying for the fact that

You were still amidst the raindrops

Staring at me with your cold and

Emotionless eyes.

 

 

Monster (Just a nightmare)

 

I see her shadow moving

Behind the curtains.
Her shape

So familiar to me.

When I used to touch her skin;
Feel every curve, every bump.

I’m walking up the stairs,
Remembering the nights I used to
Walk up her stairs,

All so excited.

I used to take her flowers.
Used to!

Hasn’t happened lately.
Been so busy. Been so busy lately!

I still have the keys.
The door makes a sigh.

I walk up to our bedroom door.
I can hear her breathing vigorously,
Almost moaning.
I listen for a while.

Thoughts are screwing through my head.
My head hurts.

It’s time.
I open the door,
I see her on top of him,

Naked! Naked! Naked!

The groans and moans stop,
As light from the blade of my knife
Hits their eyes,

Momentarily blinding them.

 

They look like rabbits,

Caught in the headlights.

 

I step in

And close the door.

 

Can’t help but to wonder,

Which one of us is the monster?

 

The day she left.

 

Paint the canvases black,

And stop the music track.

 

Let the clouds cover the sun,

And let them cry, cry and cry.

 

Kill the singing nightingales,

And kill all the lovebirds, dead.

 

Unscrew the stars from the night sky.

Gather all the thunderstorms and hurricanes.

 

Let the earth quake in place,

And let the rivers flood.

 

Stop the cameras rolling,

Let T.V wail in the dark.

 

You might ask: ‘what brought on these horrid requests?’

I shall ask the same from my broken heart.

 

On the Road

 

I walk back

From a bed immersed in woe;

From a room with no windows;

From a house built on misery.

 

I walk back

From a dead-end road;

From a one-way street;

From a deserted highway.

 

I walk back

From an abandoned village;

From a ghost town;

From a smoky city.

 

I walk back

From your deceits and lies;

From your heartless hypocrisy;

From your tainted memory.

 

No promised land.

I’m returning to nihility,

And it’s peaceful there;

Peaceful.

Boundless Night

 

Once again the day has ended.

The dark clouds have gathered once again.

Once again sun has set in her resting place.

The birds have stopped their songs,

And nightmares are not far away.

The table set in postman’s house,

He sits with his family waiting.

Lovers sitting on the couch,

Laughing at a sketch

In little Britain.

I am sitting alone, with a glass half empty,

Watching my wretched life take another blow.

The clouds refuse to let stars shine,

And the moon afraid to show his face.

I am alone once again.

 

I had asked for desire first,

Not knowing what to ask for in the end.

I had torn out my heart,

And watched it being taken away.

I am alone once again.

 

The void in my chest, expands

To the corners of my being,

Gnawing at my flesh,

Until solitude fills me in. 

I am alone once again.

 

Memories unfold in my mind,

Flashbacks and hallucinations.

I cry, cry and cry,

Knowing these wounds will never heal.

Tis be my fate.

 

So I sit, drowned in melancholy,

Drunk on opium and wine.

Smoke impairs my vision,

And I welcome it with open arms.

Soon I’ll be asleep.

 

The end in sight

 

I’m a decomposing apple,

Laid waste in the bowl of life;

Decaying from within,

Gradually ceasing to exist.

 

I’m the plucked poppies,

Helplessly abandoned on the pavement,

Under death’s spell,

Perpetually withering away.

 

I’m a falling leaf,

Yellowed at the hand of time,

Swirling amidst the wind of cruelty

Heading to the depth solitude.

 

I’m a smoke of madness,

Inevitably dissolving

In humanity’s chilling destiny,

Heading for my undecided fate.

 

I shall not ask for forgiveness,

Nor shall I forgive.

I am one with the universe,

Yet never was treated as such.

 

So when you’ll come back,

Make sure to be prepared.

Bring a candle lit,

As it’s dark here within my memory.

 

The Room

 

My Walls are bare;

No windows.

Traces of yellow paint

In patches scattered.

 

When I moved in,

The walls were white;

The man called it Magnolia.

Illusions of space.

 

Chain-smoking

I write down my life.

Line after line

Stained with my tears.

 

Chapters of grief,

Permanently bounded.

I cannot tear them apart,

I’m too weak.

 

No one has knocked on my door

For days,

Weeks,

Years.

 

How long have I been here?

When I moved in,

The walls were white.

They are no more.

 

Flashbacks and yet more.

My life runs before my eyes;

Over and over,

Like a clockwork orange.

 

I don’t know how old I am.

Old enough to die,

Young enough to hope.

Time has stood still in my room.

 

My fingers are yellow,

Like the patches on the walls.

The man called it Magnolia,

Illusions of space.

 

The neighbour plays Chopin,

Never Mozart.

I wonder how old he is.

As old as his piano.

 

I am nowhere near the end,

More lines needs to be written.

I’m writing my life still,

Chapters of grief.

 

Change

 

You are going to die.

This is a fact.

Just like me

And everyone you know.

Just like everyone

You don’t know.

 

You will die one day,

No matter how rich you are;

No matter how wise you are;

No matter how famous you are.

 

You might be remembered

For a while after you’re gone;

Or longer if you happen to be famous;

But inevitably you will be forgotten.

You will be just a name:

On a grave stone;

On some record;

On a book cover.

Even if you write down all your thoughts,

Someone will get it wrong in the future,

Or will prove you wrong;

And they shall see you as old,

Silly and irrelevant,

Not fashionable.

 

You work, work and work.

Money, money, money.

Comfort, leisure, happiness.

Spouse, children, family.

Then you work more,

To make them happy.

You are caught

In a vicious cycle.

We all are,

And the funny thing is:

Those who think they are controlling this cycle,

Kings, Queens, Politicians, heads of state

Don’t know the point of it all

They are part of the problem.

They will die and be forgotten too,

Just like me and you.

 

So next time you are in bed,

Thinking about the amount you amass,

Thinking about all the fame

And living well.

Remember you will die one day,

This, my dear reader, is a fact. 

 

Forever yours

 

 

I’ll find you soon,
If my battered heart permits.

I’ll make the darkness of solitude end,
And let the sun shine into our lives.

I’ve changed and surly will again.
Yet, I shan’t forget my past.

I’ll make it rain,
So our flowers shall bloom once more.

I’ll make it snow,
So our tainted mistakes shall be covered.

I’ll make the birds sing,
So that my whispers are heard only by you.

I’ll make the winds blow,
So that our “love” can flow to the end of time.

I’ll find you soon.
I’ll find you soon.

 

It’s Winter

 

The winds have sung,
Sung their woeful testimony.
And the birds shout and cry
Bringing news to the flowers
The end is near.
 
We are the victims,
Just like the sunflowers
Searching in vain
For the glimmer of light
Fading into horizon.
 
Everyone knows,
They know through history.
The drums are drumming,
Thirsty for blood
On the pebbled roads of destiny.
 
Warmth has escaped,
The butterflies have foretold,
The chilling omen is upon us.
Find your way back home my friend,
Find your way back home.
 
The crickets scream
And climb down the trees,
And I felt your fingers
As you passed me the paper
Headlining the horrors of our time.
 
The howling of wolves can be heard
For miles deep into the woods,
And the sun is unaware
Of what conspiracy awaits her
By the dark menacing clouds.   

 

The Way

 

Before you make your way

Ask the stars for light,

And ask the clouds for kindness;

Ask the winds to spur you on.

 

Say goodbye to cosmos;

To sunbeams say farewell;

Kind regards to people;

Take leave of reality.

 

Wear your longest coat,

And put on your hiking boots.

Bring with you a loaf of bread,

And a flask full of wine.

 

March on the road of destiny,

Until you reach the weeping willow;

Ask it to tell you the story of time

And the men fallen at its hands.

 

Turn left at the roundabout of affection

You shall come to the orchid of devotion;

Pour her some wine and kiss her petals 

And she will show you the way.

 

Walk toward the sound of rapture,

And you will see the tree of life;

Climb the ladder up to the lovebird 

And give her some bread.

 

When you reached the valley of pride,

Look for the river of solitude;

There you will find a raft made of broken hearts

Tie your coat to the mast and sail on.

 

You will come to an ocean of tears,

At the end of that ocean, on the beach of dejection,

Under the languish shade of longing hut,

You will find me

 

Glad to have seen you again.    

 

Honest

 

I’m a child of night.

Darkness follows me,

I hear its footsteps

Marching down my street.

 

I’m the son of Moon,

And the stars.

Sorrow was born with me,

Haunting my memory.

 

My shadow is my companion,

Stretching its soulless

Dusky fingers

To the brink of my dreams.

 

I spent my life

Going from bar to bar.

Lending my heart to strangers

Who returned it always in pieces.

 

I got high and drunk;

Medicine for my nightmares;

But drink and drugs

Won’t cure my cries anymore.

 

So, I retreated back to darkness,

Rejecting the world

With my shadow

Keeping me company.

 

Until you knocked

Bringing news of sunrise.

So, with my door ajar,

I’m trying to be honest.

 

I thought you should know.

 

Anew

 

Could it be that this battered heart of mine

Has dared to ask for desire once again?

How have you managed to tug at its strings?

How have you managed to bring to life its beat?

 

Could it be that this burned out mind of mine

Has the audacity to contemplate falling in love?

With what will have you challenged it to this game?

With what courage are you willing to endure its pain?

 

Could it be that my solitude filled vase of life

Has gallantly made room for another spirit?

Why do you insist upon rescuing this broken man?

Why do you testify your passion for this thorny crown?

 

Taymaz will never be the man you might have found

Long ago, at the well of youth, watching his reflection.

So I pray you, be sincere in your deeds; as I don’t want

This oasis of hope turning into another merciless mirage. 

 

A Toast

 

Let’s drink to the health of lovers,

To friendship and good deeds of others.

 

Let’s drink to days come to pass,

And the nights with no regrets.

 

Let’s drink to the triumph of honesty;

Those who do no harm, I’ll drink to thee.

 

Let’s drink to memories of the lost ones,

Those who have taught us rights from wrongs.

 

Let’s drink to the frailty of our beings,

So that our past shall be wiped clean.

 

Let’s drink to the nations and countries,

Hoping for happiness wherever we might be.

 

Let’s drink to our undying sense of pride,

And wish it may not us divide.

 

Let us drink to your health my dear friends,

And an old boy let you not blame,

His hopeful wishes  

Should you feel the same.