Posts Tagged ‘touch’
20
Jun
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: artifacts, azure, birds, blog, blogger, blogging, born, circles, coffee, conversation, dancing, dream, dreamer, dreaming, dreams, feet, flags, fountain, fruit, green, heart, home, kiss, land, light, lips, markets, moors, mud, one, outside, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, silence, sky, soft, spice, spirit, steam, summer, think, thinker, thinking, thoughts, touch, world, write, writer, writing, yearning, yellow. Leave a comment
fleet of foot
on wide slanted lines
precious little artifacts
hidden in the moorish design
glistening azure tiles to the sky
white hot roof tops
and spice market flags
they shift and flap
high above the mud walls
and the summer fountain yards
beads turn over clutched hands
nimbly building prayers of glass
shattering spirited worlds
affecting far removed hearts
away in the fields of some distant land
and there, among the banyan trees
shade grows long with the day
turning and pressing the jam scented fruit
soon to be on its way
to coffee houses filled with steam
a taste between conversations
and the words they carry home
will fit like the scabbard blade
passing between lips
unknown they will digest
with a passing sleight of hand
a forehead kiss goodnight
the dreamers will have dreamed
they will awake
to mornings yellow light
hearing the sounds of silence
and the birds aloft in flight
crossing endless landscapes
around and round they go
always back to where they started
but they do not even know
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 6/20/12
19
Jun
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: blog, blogger, blogging, born, children, dancing, dream, dreamer, dreaming, dreams, green, highway, humming, kissing, light, morning, one, outside, petals, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, soft, surprise, think, thinker, thinking, thoughts, touch, whimsical, whimsy, write, writer, writing, yearning. Leave a comment
sweet chocolate wind
look what you scatter about my feet
warm butter imprints,
resting…
and little moths kissing
stickers for children
for scratching and sniffing
feeling whimsical for a day
or a month,
or a year…
hands on my face
softer now
than the white oven baked
listening closely
for the humming and hissing
red hot radiator swishes
on the highway
in the evening
you move me with your green eyes burning
the next morning
after you’ve gone
your imprint still pressed on my pillow
like nectar on fallen petals
red polished nails that are broken
the phone that doesn’t ring
still waiting…
for the sound that will come
like giant footsteps on hills
just out of reach from the danger
for the tribesmen are swarming
it should come as no surprise
this honeycombed warning
it bit you on the neck
while in the fields you were roaming
so know her not
for what she really is
keep her tucked in the diary veil
for if she escapes
no one will ever believe
that you knew her so well
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 6/19/12
19
Jun
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: blog, blogger, blogging, born, dancing, dream, dreamer, dreaming, dreams, green, inspiration, June, light, ocean, one, outside, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, pray, rhymes, secret, soft, think, thinker, thinking, thoughts, touch, whisper, write, writer, writing, yearning. Leave a comment
you have to fight for the yard-long miles
like the wind in the cross-long fallows
alight with the fire of folded magic
tendering your sweet resignations
like fingerprints that smudge a cloudless sky
for we are the lost ones weary
come from an ocean of stolen devotions
circling and diving we pray
the melting wax of vintage candles
forming a sidewalk, nighttime display
they tell a sweet secret story
born in the june of the day
paid for like the rhymes of an hour
in this spreading motion at play
but there will always be something
breathless and lost in the wanting
it is found in the heart as it matters
a little whisper that swallows
and when it comes up for air
from the pillowed window frame seat
it will look to capture the moment
proud of the bounty
that lays at your feet
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 6/19/12
9
Jun
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: beginners, blog, blogger, blogging, born, catacombs, dancing, dream, dreamer, dreaming, dreams, green, hearts, light, one, outside, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, soft, stars, strangers, swoon, think, thinker, thinking, thoughts, touch, write, writer, writing, yearning. Leave a comment
on heads on hearts
on beds
apart
in the death
are the catacombs
and the dark
where spirits lay
to find your soul
your mate
to be taken
from this place
on chests
resting softly
hands touching
so far apart
and knowing
the ways of differing arts
on mending
your days
a pillar of soft dust
in a thrilling display
to capture
and corner
and savor her ways
from lust
and longing
the fragile one fraying
on knees
and bended
before her touch
to wonder
not knowing
what there
lies beneath
a canopy of stars
to cradle and swoon
beneath her arms
clutching and bare
so it should be
on minds on matters
this feeling of freedom
in windows that shatter
and when that day comes
a vision in tatters
you will not be alone
but in the arms of strangers
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 7/8/12
5
Jun
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: anniversary, astronomy, blog, blogger, blogging, born, dancing, dream, dreamer, dreaming, dreams, green, light, one, outside, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, soft, stars, think, thinker, thinking, thoughts, time, touch, transit, venus, write, writer, writing, yearning. Leave a comment
calm wind
fly from stars
to the radio head
identify the tranquil beat
conjure the vibrant ring
and wait
for the transit is coming
planets sprinting across the face of the sun
a spot on the eye
the distance to be reckoned
catch now as catch can
or be lost for a hundred years
falling through this emptiness of mine
waiting for the band
in the darkness of sound
and when the stage lights
they grow and throb
look for the bright eyed faces
and the swaying of the crowd
for these are anniversaries
to mark the union of souls
born of astronomical degree
and when the sextant marks out the line
we will know the distance gathered
and the passage of time…
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 6/5/12
21
May
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: blog, blogger, blogging, born, dancing, dream, dreamer, dreaming, dreams, green, honey comb, light, one, ornamental grass, outside, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, red lips, sashes, soft, think, thinker, thinking, thoughts, touch, travel, vacation, write, writer, writing, yearning. Leave a comment
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
11
May
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: blog, blogger, blogging, born, dancing, dream, dreamer, dreaming, dreams, green, light, one, outside, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, politicians, politics, soft, think, thinker, thinking, thoughts, touch, write, writer, writing, yearning. Leave a comment
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
8
May
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: blog, blogger, blogging, born, dancing, dream, dreamer, dreaming, dreams, green, light, longing, lust, one, outside, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, soft, think, thinker, thinking, thoughts, touch, write, writer, writing, yearning. Leave a comment
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
26
Apr
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: blog, blogger, blogging, born, child, children, dancing, dream, dreamer, dreaming, dreams, green, light, one, outside, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, soft, think, thinker, thinking, thoughts, touch, write, writer, writing, yearning. Leave a comment
hail to the chief
for iron thrones were made
and the hats of tradition have been hung
placed on the heads of jesters
with fear and loathing
they call upon the races of men
to scale the icy walls of this earth
to find a lofty perch
for colored banners yet wave
and when the rockets glare no longer red
we may all fade to black
but this is not another song of war
but only homage to the fantasies of greatness
there among the crumbling aqueducts they feasted
on women and wine
and spoke the tales victory
even as the choking vines tightened
even as the great coin faces found homely pockets to fill
the written fire of words found walls to collect
dissidents to rouse
and people to clutch the roots of change
why does this vicious cycle spin
like wheels on a brickyard sunday
why do the learned not see
for even a veil so thin should cast a weary gaze
so will we find ourselves amongst the rubble
knowing not of the coming storm
or will we reach to stay the pillars that weaken
will we bring home the banners of glory
to find them resting with each and every soul
together lifted to reasonable aspirations
find yourself pondering the choice i give you
and let the weight of such things be upon your mind
for in the darkening hour
the strong light of reason may yet find the cracks
and when you lift foot to pavement
seeking out your day’s reform
think not of gold and silver
but of the children starving
for yes they live
and yes they die
not so very far from the door of your home
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 4/26/12
23
Apr
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: blog, blogger, blogging, born, dancing, dream, dreamer, dreaming, dreams, green, light, one, outside, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, soft, think, thinker, thinking, thoughts, touch, write, writer, writing, yearning. Leave a comment
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
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