A long journey home

Persian Blog

 

I am not poor.

I am not weighed down.
I am not ugly, fat, inadequate.
Not good enough, not pure enough, not strong enough.

I am rich.
I am free.

I am free.

Photo – Persian Blog, Omid

-short, evocative poetry-

Published in: on May 25, 2017 at 01:44  Leave a Comment  
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Jacob and his Angel

 

It is patience that destroyed Adam and Eve,
Not the hooded serpent,

With beady eyes,

Not the salacious Jezebel,
Hiding her fanny,

Not the woman,

The patience,
You see,

The knowing without power,
The waiting for death and its meager offerings,

You’ve got to face the day, come what may
Your smiling face will see rain again,

And it won’t be long till you drag your feet,
To slow the circle down.

-short, evocative poetry-

Photo – Jacob and Esau

Published in: on May 24, 2017 at 17:19  Leave a Comment  
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Dreamers

short-poetry-words-move

Frederick Douglass, ca. 1879. George K. Warren. (National Archives Gift Collection)
Exact Date Shot Unknown
NARA FILE #: 200-FL-22
WAR & CONFLICT BOOK #: 113

 

I do not have dreams that I remember but this is the war;

That I was at Queen Mary’s trying to make up,
For slipping,

-skipping school-

And now the scent is after me, evil
Plastic lips and yellow handbags,

After my own whiteness,

Pure white, like
Extra-pure, like

Black is dirty, or something
And I prayed for others today,

Sold good cabbage,

Hoped it will all be ok in the end, that
It would all be ok.

Photos – Federick Douglass and Ufunk

-short, evocative poetry-

Published in: on May 24, 2017 at 12:54  Leave a Comment  
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“Black Boys on Mopeds”

“Black Boys On Mopeds”

Margaret Thatcher on TV
Shocked by the deaths that took place in Beijing
It seems strange that she should be offended
The same orders are given by her
I’ve said this before now
You said I was childish and you’ll say it now
“Remember what I told you
If they hated me they will hate you”
England’s not the mythical land of Madame George and roses
It’s the home of police who kill black boys on mopeds
And I love my boy and that’s why I’m leaving
I don’t want him to be aware that there’s
Any such thing as grieving
Young mother down at Smithfield
5 am, looking for food for her kids
In her arms she holds three cold babies
And the first word that they learned was “please”
These are dangerous days
To say what you feel is to dig your own grave
“Remember what I told you
If you were of the world they would love you”
England’s not the mythical land of Madame George and roses
It’s the home of police who kill blacks boys on mopeds
And I love my boy and that’s why I’m leaving
I don’t want him to be aware that there’s
Any such thing as grieving.

Photo – Sinead O’Conner

-short, evocative poetry-

Published in: on May 23, 2017 at 12:48  Leave a Comment  
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Counting Lovers

Cheese occurs at night,
Counting lovers, Gerald

Jason,
Daniel,

Some guy at the Holiday Inn,

Leonard,
Han,

Rolf,
Keshavjii,

Simon,

Like that, they
Say a healthy lifestyle has ten to twenty,

Lovers.

Photo – Self

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on May 21, 2017 at 18:15  Leave a Comment  
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Bound

And I’ll be dust to dust bound to,

Shifting black wicker furniture just so,
Patrons aren’t disturbed,

By the rain between,
The hair-do and the pedicure, separated

At least,

By three floors if the lifts are working, me I’m just
Splashing mops against mauve tile, they

Flashing manicured smiles, we

Electing marvelous politicians in fashionable leather,
Leather of the season, bound

To let us down in Range-Rovers, bound
To coffee machines spitting frappuccinos, just

Hoping for a tip to pay my damn school fees.

Photo: ♦Psychology Today ♦

See also: Hector

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on May 6, 2017 at 13:17  Leave a Comment  
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I lost my shoes in India

Religion, reincarnation, representation

sweets on a plate
empty tuperware

lens cleaner is,
What we took to bed.

Red he says, but he’s deaf,
With earphones on,

Police frames and Louis Vuittion
Handbags and perfumed,

Cardboard handbags,
And plastic lips,

Peach by the way, like
I said, I

Lost my shoes in India.

♦photo♦Hyunception: Movie Reviews & Analysis

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on April 24, 2017 at 01:49  Leave a Comment  
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The ladder of life

I don’t have friends, I do not think.

Friends get married, and
Drive bigger cars and,

Have more intelligent things to talk about, better
Places to go, are

Becoming lawyers and doctors and ministers,
Big people, and

It sort of interrupts things.

♦photos♦ Jacob’s Ladder

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on April 21, 2017 at 10:19  Leave a Comment  
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Dicks in space-suits

UNEP, environment

Dead beetles die in their skins, and

Seychellois, Mauritanians, Maurtians, Martians,
Fighting with sun-tans all, and

Bad lip jobs,

In Nairobi,
Silent giraffes groping for love,

God,
Tending to antelopes,

And the world ending
In a traffic jam or with,

Dicks in space-suits building railways​ through the heart of a city.

♦Photo♦ Friends of Nairobi National Park

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on April 21, 2017 at 09:21  Leave a Comment  
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The Painting with the smudge

I remember her detail,

How she looked, how she talked to her husband,
I just stood on the pavement and cried, I’ll

Never see her again, not here,
That’s it.

Whatever came, came for a moment and then left, we were
Going to live forever.

I don’t get in touch with anyone anymore,
It scares me, the

Vast leap of events between the last meeting twenty years ago, and the ‘hello’ now,
Like a slug or snail whose antenne has grazed something unpalatable;

I’ve withdrawn.

I don’t mean to do it I don’t mean to have this strange mist shroud me, I
Feel tenuous –

Like a smudge in the corner of a pristine painting you could reach out to touch me and find,

Nothing there left at all.

Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep. Rom. 12:15

♦Photo – Personal♦

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on April 9, 2017 at 10:59  Leave a Comment  
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Editing the bible

poem, religion

We’ve all seen them,

Womens circle knitting on,
Saturday,

Mens having breakfast to learn,
How to lead,

Ever been inside a church,
I mean inside?

You know the ones;
Don’t

Talk on the phone when you’re,
Writing notes,

Don’t come in late when right
Next door,

Over the shoulder of
The fat woman in green,

They are editing the bible at the behest of the priest!

Yellow dragons,
Farmhouse animals –

Beware the document groaning,
With the evidence of having been read.

Photo – ♦Fruit Of Hands

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on March 30, 2017 at 23:42  Leave a Comment  
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On gender based toiletry

poem, gender, toilets

Attack your assailant with the baguette,
You are carrying in your hand.

Soft weapon.

Transgender toilet,
Beat the crap out of the hoodlum, male
Or female,

Black or white, think
Not you must explain,

Why, during the attack
Men should not wear,

Flaming pink knickers, demand
The sex of the person approaching,

On the dark night,
In the lovely cottage,

Be determined after you have finished
The mission.

The lady so obviously not,
In the red heels,

And the blue make-up

Knows how to use her baguette, just
Do not touch her strong leather hand-bag.

PictureViewpoint♦

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on March 30, 2017 at 22:07  Leave a Comment  
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