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Archive for December, 2009

my home,

my no longer home,

my home,

my no longer home,

is burning,

with police cars,

and red,

swimming in seas,

of blood,

that my friends,

my never friend,

my sisters, and brothers, and mothers, and fathers, and grand fathers, and grand mothers,

that I never knew,

the are swimming,

in seas of blood, and burning cars, and throwing stones,

at fire and metal and bullets,

and they go down,

but they never go down.

oh my home,

my no longer home,

oh my home,

my no longer home,

you’ve made me love,

strangers,

I’ll never know,

and

and an ever absent G-d,

that I know,

will show

herself,

through these seas of blood,

and burning cars,

and rains of stones,

met with fire and metal

that makes my sisters, and brothers and fathers and mothers,

go down

but they’ll never go down.

my home.

my never ever home,

you’ve never been my home,

so much as you are right now.

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you say I could tell you were on cocaine with your face all pale and you half breast hanging out for the world to see and for your mind hanging out with all those “people” and I don’t think you’d have come out of it if it wasnt for me,

and you say, I don’t like that my girlfriend likes articles on cannibals and I don’t like that she studied about serial killers for 3 years, and I don’t like that you like such vulgar, and that its disturbing that a girlfriend of mine likes such vulgar things,

and you say im not sure you still don’t have those tendencies,and you say are you sure you still don’t have those tendencies, and you say why would you like women any way, and you say I can’t be with someone knowing they’ve been with women,

and you say, I cant believe you don’t care about your body,

and you say leave your hair curly, don’t tell me what to do with my hair, your legs are too skinny, are you calling me fat?, paint your nails please, red is my preferred color,

and you say, this is all for you, i care about you, this isn’t for me, you are beautiful to me regardless of all these things,

and you say your anger scares me,

and you say don’t look at me like that,

and you say stop talking,

and you say you dance like a robot,

and you say why are your teeth so yellow,

and you say you walk funny,

and you say white girls are perfect,

and you say I accept you.

and I think thats what you think.

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And she says on the phone maybe this isn’t a good idea.

and I say no most of the problems are with me…

****

maybe in 4 years from now you’ll show these to your new one and laugh at me and my musings and temper and say “god when she did that she went from here to here”, raising your hand high above your head and dropping it down, just a little bit, hopefully.

my hopes disappointed when your hand didnt drop that much, talking about her, and her taggings of philosophers unknown to me, naked in front of her book case. And you say we dont have enough pictures together and I think because I look like shit.

Maybe one day, you’ll print these, and show them to your new one and she will laugh, and hope that your hand drop way lower than i know it will. disappoint her. a little. for me.

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YFLL

You know those nights when it rains, so hard that you cant see straight, and you hold your head down, and run, trying to find some refuge from the cold wetness that ensues with every violent drop, and you run so fast you cant see where you are, and you run, headfirst, into something industrial, that just had to be there, to stop you, and pain you, into turning your head up street level so you can see the fast coming rapidly approaching traffic of cars speeding home in the intersection you were about to cross?

I need something like that.

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Joan

 

I read somewhere,

that according to some experts,

who know things like these,

“Bitch” has lost all negative meaning.

I vote for Cunt to be the next, although,

I really like the way it sounds,

coming out of Christopher Walken’s mouth, 

on SNL

all contempt and shit. 

CUNT.

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Ordinary Rs.

This is song for Amy, who doesn’t like being called Amy at all and is more close to being Bob than she’ll ever know.

This is a poem for Amy, who asked that I write for the first time, and encouraged me the second time, and for Bob who is becoming Amy as we speak.

so lets speak.

speak of love and Amy and Bob. and Curly haired girls gone wrong, and skinny intellectuals gone on to the other side.

Lets write of love.

An All Consuming Love, that I found in an all Consuming dream that I wake up from when I’m sleeping in his arms and I think oh god this is what it feels to be awake in love’s arms.

And I want to write about love, and all burning love, that’s not so much a ring, but can bring rings of different kinds, and the kind of love that I keep looping in and out of, and I can’t awaken from this love.

And lets speak of Alex, who never gives his name, whose real name is a hero on a white horse come to save a country with a bow and arrow, and who speaks farsi to all, and who calls people by names they were never called, and who thinks im a little Scrooge.

And lets talk about love for alex, who is an all consuming myth, without a horse, or a bow or an arrow, who’se made me grow up, grown up, grown, splintered and broken and fixed with no more nose bleeds and better nails than I’ve had for the last 8 years of my life.

And lets talk about alex, whose my all consuming love, in whose arms I wake up sometimes and I think oh god im taking too much of the blanket and he’ll be cold all night.

and lets talk about alex who thinks blog writing is a useless hobby, and who says my writing is good but he probably thinks its crap, but he thinks im pretty so its all alright.

I guess this wasnt so much a poem about love than it was about amy and alex, who are both more love than anyone could know, except someone in their arms.

fin.

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J

 

معذرت

عذر

این اتفاق باید بیفته.

مرا ببخش. من دیگه نمیتونم بچه بمونم، سالهاست که سالم نیستم. بخدا نیستم. چیزی ازش نمونده که نجات بدیم. من. میدونم. که اگر برگردم، باید تا عمر بمونم. و من نمیتونم دیگه بمونم. شاید توهم روزی ببینی‌ که این هم برای تو بود هم برای  من. که من خودخواه نیستم. که این نه فرمانی بچه گانه نیست. که این واقعیت است. که من میخوان سرم به سنگ بخوره. که من سنگ رو نیاز دارم که زندگی‌ یاد بگیرم. که من دیگه نمی‌خوام لوس باشم، بچه باشم. که من می‌خوام بتونم یه روزی به بچم بگم، منم همسن تو همین بدبختیهارو کشیدم تا به اینجا رسیدم

I need. to show myself. that I can. semi-independantly.

I dont want to be more of a burden than i already am. Please forgive me. Please see. that I wont. take the offer. because I love you. And this. This isnt rejection. This is love. an attempt to save love. so please. please dont leave me. and dont hate me. and forgive me. and please stay long enough to see. that this.

this is love.

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