Archive for May, 2012

“a dance in the afterlife”

some will dance in the afterlife

moved by tickled feet

and the green sway of ornamental grass

they will be featured on luminous stages

among a cast of shadows

and in their lightening moves

and in their gracious slumber

honey comb metronomes beat out a rhythm

while the swelling of the chorus booms

for i have seen these mystics

uncanny visions from across the mire

a coin for each eye

paid to conduct the ferryman

high atop the splintered mast

looking out across the multitude

as they form a great company

to bind and bellow

sliding across the somber stage

with dirty pink sashes

and wooden tipped shoes

spinning in a deathly ballet

oh sweet prima!

your pirouetting visage sublime

why have you left this world?

to enter a space divine

for i only asked of you a kiss

from red lips alive

but you chose to seek the darkness

to bear a new disguise

and to leave me standing breathless

peering across the great divide

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 5/21/12

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“hideous politician”

what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger

even in the grip of the twisting vine

even in the time of great sorrow

and when pockets are filled with lint

and the cupboards bare

fruit must be for the soul

picked from the tree of hope

pruned by the axe of optimism

we must run to feel the sweat of laughter

and share the rope of binding

to come out of the darkness unscathed

wrapped in the fabric of civilization

for these are the days of false promise

spat from the lips of suited men

flush with the bounty of ill gotten gains

torn from the flesh of the innocent

and so we must rise

rise together

and in the hands of youth

and in the dreams of infants

we find the sacred path to freedom

retake your home from the oppressors

lift yourself from the grey whipping mire

and in this your salvation

waiting with open arms

to be kissed with the passion of lovers

too long stilled by separation

so now born to feel the quickening

astride in the race to run

a ticker tape shower for your victory

to wash the salty crust of disillusion from your bones

and now be born so light

as a feather on her way

drifting down from heights unimaginable

to fist the burning strike

we cast you out

oh hideous politician

we strike you from our field

banished to spin your web

alone with your own kind

in the madness of some dark abyss

far from the eyes that matter

far from soft hands and true souls

for they are the eyes of the world

and they see your coded bile

spit from your pursed lips

now we retake the pulpit

our sermon to unwind

and in this spark of words

food for thought will grow

to bring about the ship

and mend the leaky hull

this is our restoration

and a promise to us all

we will not live in your shadow

so step out from our way

or feel the spit of fire

that will burn your fast decay

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari  5/11/12

“the longing and the lust”

when candied stars shine jewel-like in the rising distance

hearts murmur and grow

the shifting and slowing of emotions come fierce

as the weight of the closing approach moves forth

in the distance songs ring out

and the wood fire graces the sky with its smoky trail

all along the trail, flowers dance in the valley wind

while train whistle melodies echo in the caverns beneath

we have come to this place

to stand among the rock and sand

bodies squeezing tight through the hour glass

searching for the cool breath of spring

you have known this place

and walked its miles

running your hands along the sheer face

i have seen this place

in the grip of a maddening storm

wet with the milk of clouds

chilled by the iron ring

and in the birth of days

the comfort of repetition will strengthen our longing

for we are the meaning behind the tale

and the strong dusty taste on waiting lips

we will strike out again

amongst the tall grass and painful whispers

and in this striking we shall burn

the fire of longing buried deep beneath our tender souls

and when the season dreams us well

we will cloak ourselves in mystery

and drift smartly away

for in the act of disappearing

at home we find ourselves

wrapped in the bitter longing

and waiting for the lust of rain

Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari  5/8/12

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