Archive for December, 2013

“new year’s”

those that lived before us

they were born of dust

scraped from high chilean peaks

warmed by the temple sun

and washed by the mountain ice

they spoke in prayers

carried by the wind for a thousand years

and from their souls came wisdom

brilliant-white and pure


how has this history found us

like a dark coffee fog swelling in the distance

waiting in the stillness

for such a time that finds us all

wasted in our revelry

just so many hours far removed

here among the quickening lights


what lies behind those ancient eyes

those flecks of circled glass

piercing stony hearts

our deepest wishes known


and in those new year’s old

when love was soft and warm

did they dream of us in our future

i think not so much perhaps

rather do i imagine

when the moon rang out at midnight

they pulled close the one’s they cherished

and held them breathless-tight


-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 12/31/13



on the road

and in the ridges

where rain crackles on windshields wide

the dreams of youth form wicked ideas

they are wild and numerous

and they stretch

all in a breath

from sea to shining sea


how are those golden maps

those spinning compass needles

like four corners in the hot new mexican dust


all the fusion and the willful frustrations

all the winters and their warm summer cousins

just a small, delightful sip of wonder

tinged with a taste of pine and smoke


on our beds

and out the windows

a conspiracy of whispers

that so swiftly wander

all through the light

from the deepest wood to the highest mountain top


where are they now?

those slender wristed girls

like magic on a bedroom stage


and all their curls

in their skin so porcelain

just the only thing

simply… the purest thing

that we ever really wanted


-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari


sadness comes like a swollen stream

buried in your bones

well-worn and woven

imbedded in your very soul

like elements scattered in the dust of coal

and those shadows that flash

just behind the bedroom changing screens

they are but pencil sketches

cold in the dark of  winter’s night


oh how you come for me

with sugared words and salty skin

for i am tangled in your twisted fire

and in all your barbs and all your wires

they run through me

so soft and so violent


and you are there

just beyond the clouds of white

my every move so simply measured

scaled to the inch and to the mile

your clutching hands growing ever nearer

i can almost feel your touch


and so when you have me

in your dark and dreary ways

will you at least love me?

or will you simply turn

and slowly walk away…


-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 12/12/13


“beyond the flooded, folding fields”

snowflowers swirl and spin in the grey of swollen spheres
and this could be the saddest world we’ve ever seen
here… the folding fields are flooded
an armada stuck fast to the frozen sky
the searchlights blast through the hilly fog
just near this warm enchanting place
just inside the old stores
among the smoke and mirrors
the cards of tarot lay scattered among the decking
like ancient stones torn across a sea of invisibility
where soft silhouettes toast the spanish sky
their shirts like sails in a violent wind
they dance like lights in the christmas wild
for this may be the only way they’ve ever known
and I am here…
among the fierce and downtrodden
and we all shall rise!
like holy rosaries in the morning mist
til the holes in our hearts are mended and woven
for this shall not be our final resting place
we will follow the signs that tell of paths
beyond the flooded, folding fields
our shy wiry eyes will glisten once more
and just there beyond the spray
where the dark golden water falls
we will breathe the cool, sweet wind
and fill our lungs with laughter

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 12/2/13

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