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what face of change darkens the thin light
sculpting out the wet glass of stormy sand
a forced feeling of damp anxiety
leaving the lungs in a warm breath
i have torn the limbs from the dying tree
and sown the seeds of perpetual motion
filling out the atmosphere in strange designs
i will shift the shape of time honored tradition
to embark on dawn light cruises
that lash out at eternity
and in these words i craft the miles green
born of the slow flow wasting
a plastic ocean surge
from the steps of the tibetan highlands
to the low arching valley of death
a satellite searching the deep, dark web
flush with the screams of distant life
powdered for the dance of nations
and in the rank and file
and in the time of tradition honored
we mark the faceless souls of men
to brand them as bloodless enemies
for we look not within
at the dark mirrored shiftings
casting only outward
to the shallow depths of mortar
and we walk along the crumbling
of stones so lofty once
and swallow the dust of sadness
the burning throng of lust

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 4/23/12

catch and release
the slow flow away
from the pollen soaked lashes
and the dandelion tears
the storm has come
and with it the blue tide
and the arching orbs
the rush of cool filled air
the way it whips and turns
finding the corners of hidden places
like a spring hidden beneath
a flux of gears and boulders
to form the path of secret whispers
to break the dust of lonely days
wake your eyes to the smell of green
and shades a thousand strong
uncover the bow and the tie that binds
make for the safety of higher ground
for there you will breathe freely
of scented air and scented shoulders
on blankets old with scars
and girls young with lofty aspirations
these are the times before the taking
when sweat drips from the tips of noses
to release a salty kiss
forever upon the lips of strangers
never to be known again!

Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 4/6/12

stolen from the arc of spring
to field the questioning ones
petals bursting forth from latent slumber
only to fall from grace
what beautiful pink decay
that lays upon the prickling strands of grass
a bed of sweet scents to come
to raise the brow of gazing eyes
to cross the airy landscape
and fill the lonely drive
now we rest near the cracking asphalt
a hammock softened by winter’s form
gazing at the broken limbs of the season
i call you now to wake
from the tempest of your daze
and seek the cup of strangers
to fill your racing heart
for in the weeks to follow
horse and man will run
and by the cooling shadows
shade will be reformed

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 3/20/12

you have thrown up your city walls
for scaling thoughts to climb
your towers guarding hearts
for loving arrows to find
and when the sound of oceans
split and fill the air
you come forth from your gates
to greet the ones that stare
they have come to know and wonder
at the vision you produce
to see your hair to falling
in curls about your waist
and the length and breadth
and the blue eyed tearing twinkle
that grows upon your mind
for this story has no ending
only the beginning they do seek
they knew of you in past lives
reincarnated as divine
to come now they have combed
the sprawling hillside shadows
orbiting orchards round your throne
to find the mighty witness
and the strangeness from which was born
this blushful youth of stardom
and her flowing vision view
to give the gift of wonder
granted only to the chosen few

when snow comes
eyes wonder
and trees glisten in maddening light
a winter without such beauty
finally finds absolution
cheerful wet boots lay in foyers
and fireplaces strike up one last time
the season speaks of unfinished business
while children are at play
it will be a short life
for the sun works quickly
dissolving mysterious matter
even so, we feel a sense of calm
as nature gives the expected
there will be talk of weather
men at morning coffee
mothers bundling up their babies
this is what we expect
a final sort of cleansing
ablutions for a pure entrance
to greet the days of spring and warmth
and as we look out
from upper window views
we see the trails of footsteps
weaving dimpled paths
for the snow was once our future
but quickly becomes our past
and in the days of summer
when we long for the cooling blast
we will look at the eyes of sunshine
as they scatter forth in rays
and dream of distant winter
the nostalgia of this display
it will bring us forth from slumber
out of beds to join the day

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 3/5/12

the coming of storms and rainbows
the distant boom of white-hot thunder
it shakes your heart
and rattles your cage
the winds of change following earthen curves
whipping winter wastings through the air
to announce the coming equinox
and the growing days of light
to carry us from our gentle slumber
and wake us from cold snowy dreams
they bathe us in radiant shine
smooth victories to be born
of springtime and rain
of puddles and splashing
what new language will they speak
for the sounding out of passion
to break the spell of seasons
bringing forth all shades of green
and wondering red sparkles
born out of warming beds
to make my mood a song
and sing of days to come
for in the hot white solstice
fruit will grow to life
and all the sadness of heartaches
shall no longer be felt

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 3/2/12