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fold me by the lines in the surface cut.
you have been molded to the sweetest form…
twist me from the scrolling vine,
we have been tangled in the mesh.
far, fast and beyond the smoothing surface…
below the frenzied tide
the animation of all that we loved
here stricken by wounded angel wings,
and falling fast among the hush.
hurry and be long gone…
for the breathless heart i have become.
down and with the soft face blush,
streaking tears, her face has fallen…
and now we dive beneath the waves
to search the darkness
through folded lines and molded forms
across the vastness of this empty place
within our hearts, the drowning tears
they sting the face
buried deep in the churning waste

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 12/9/11

oh soulful shine!
come to me from the morning heart.
come to me from the view frosted window…
alone touch the trembling road,
fast and forward on the rushing windsung wheels,
to hang my badge in reflecting light
falling from this silver box that carries us away
beyond stolen time…
far amongst the day’s divide.
here now lost, in warm office space,
the myriad talking voices, the mild mannered lips
they filter like a thousand year spring
from deep in the lost remains of consciousness
trickling down the throat and forever they remain…
remain but a dream,
for never did I wake!

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 12/8/11

in a reflection of yard long miles i see a distant glance
she radiates through a field beyond the tortured eyes of man
she steals your thoughts, a clever thief…
unburdened, you follow at a safe, wishful distance
the stir of cool, crisp memories subside…
left alone by the side of bleeding whispers,
turning to pull her closer,
she falls away…
and in her rags she is gone.
and in your arms but the void…
carry me on to the next grey corner,
land me safe harbored,
home and amongst the familiar senses…
pillows and heat,
but far, far from her,
she is gone

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 12/7/11

on cool nights, sweet warm stars fill my eyes…
and the raspy wind-swept voices echo deep in the chambers of my heart.
they flutter and palpitate to the rhythm of dark crushed leaves…
forming an unspoken sound, deeper than the souls of angels.
this is a weighty thing, though soft to the touch…
this is a sparkling thing, burnt from the ash of some far-flung space.
you may come calling…
but in the morning i will be gone,
back and alone in the drifting wood.
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari, 12/6/11

i will publish my first poem tonight!

I am an artist.  My mediums are poetry, painting and art constructions, singing and song writing.  I need an outlet for my poetry so I have created this blog.  Poems float into my mind daily and then float out again and are lost to me forever.  I want to start capturing these poems and sharing them with the world.  Hence, poems365.com has been created.  Please share your thoughts and comments with me.