Thief                                                                                                                  
         
It was late at night when we returned
from the party, both tired ready to get
some sleep. As I turned the key, I
noticed the door was unlocked.
Something was wrong. Cautiously I
nudged the door open just to face a
half-empty house. We’d been
burglarized.

Neither the television nor the leather
sofa in front of it remained. My
favorite ottoman wasn’t there. The
VCR, the camcorder and the stereo
system were all gone.
 More
Déjà Vu   

After driving through the crowded
morning streets, I circled the block for
the second time and victoriously
slipped into the ultimate parking
spot—the one right across from my
office.  This unprecedented event
brightened my morning. As I was
locking the car door and grinning to
myself I noticed a small-framed man
standing on the sidewalk
End of a Day

Last day of the month when Mr.
Mahan woke, he had a bitter taste
in his mouth.  After breakfast he
checked his mailbox and found a
letter, one with no sender’s
address. When he looked at the
recipient’s address he was puzzled,
it was written in his own
handwriting as it was written
today. He really freaked out when
he noticed the postmark. The
letter was mailed over 30 years
ago.

More
Jacob                                                         
        

He covered his ears with the palms
of his hands and rose from his chair
at the pile of papers on his desk, he
threw his pen aside, massaged his
aching fingers and staggered
toward his bed in the corner. The
roaring wind rattled the window
panes. An excruciating pain
radiated through his spine and
while he was whizzing, he
wondered why autumn was not his
favorite season.   
More
Girl behind the window                    
different from where she grew up.
The street below was overrun with
the crowd. Tons of young people
were gathered in small circles,
passionately arguing.  Some held
signs, waving them furiously, heads
moved back and forth and hands cut
the air like knives. She’d never seen
people that excited before—what
could have made so many people so
angry? She wondered.
More
Baby Bride

The best day of my life was when
mom bought me the Princess Saba
in her long white dress covered
with thousands of colorful tinsels.
Her lush blonde hair falling over
her chest was so shiny that when in
stared at them it was like staring
into the sun. Her eyes were blue,
the type that open and close.
Every day I combed her hair, I
touch her breasts hoping one day
mine would grow like them. My
only wish was to become a bride
just like the Princess with blonde
hair, blue eyes, red lips and white
gown.  
Princess Saba always slept in my
bed.
More
Abstract

After debating myself for months, I
finally decided to take the art
class. I always wanted to create.
This dream seemed so within my
reach after I read the course
description of the local community
college. It read,
More
Real Me

I was kidnapped from the
maternity ward of a hospital after
birth. When this appalling incident
happened, to avoid a scandal, the
hospital authorities took the
unidentified baby in the next crib
whose parents had abandoned him
on the street and gave him to my
parents. I am someone else.  I
could have been a normal baby
growing up in a normal family and
became a functional adult, but my
destiny was not written this way.    
More
Colors of Dream    

In a day unlike others,
Two toddlers sat alone
Out of their parents’ sight.
They exchanged no words,
They just didn’t know how.
With their jolly impulses,
Expressions and gestures
They expressed their eagerness

More
Interview with a Long Story Short  
http://www.alongstoryshort.net

More
Shadow

One gray night
In the corner of cold
Under the absent moonlight
With a suspicious gaze
Through a window frame
That did not open to anywhere
A shadow I saw
That has never been
Is not
And will never be
Yes, in the nick of time
When it passed by
The huge tree of memory
Trying to escape
My glance
For a second I saw
Lost

The taste of tobacco has poisoned
my mouth, my entire being is bitter.
I’stretch my torso and emerge from
The taste of tobacco has poisoned
my mouth, my entire being is bitter.
I’out the tarnished window.  The m
nauseated when I sluggishly
careless rain has soaked every
crooked building, scrubbed the dirty
asphalt and now is pouring down
the broken gutters. Its guilty claws
scratched every wall and its culprit
fingerprints are all over this town.
The sewers are puking in disgust.
     
More
Homeless                                                                   
When the city ordinance in U.S.
major cities prohibited Homeless
from sleeping under bridges, on
park benches, and on sidewalks,
the Homeless issue became
number one public concern.
Although homelessness was the
hot issue of the day, majority of
people remained uninformed of its
root causes.
More
Death and I

I don’t know exactly what life is
A hollow recurrence perhaps  
But death is a decayed
reminiscence.  
“Live as if you’ll die tomorrow”
This advice I took to heart all along
A precarious life I lived
Erratic behavior, whimsical in
thoughts
Unpredictable, nothing stable in my
life.
I lived to the fullest
More
In the Margins

I live in a nice suburb with lots of nice
houses and fancy yards.  Rich gringos
always need their lawns taken care of
and that’s all we do. We do weekly
mowing, trimming and mulching. We
also repair sprinkler systems, fix broken
fences, clean chimneys and replace
blown shingles off the roofs. We’re a
full service company called Green Yard
Lawn.  I started my business three
years ago and worked hard and long
hours by myself to get where I am.
Now I run a successful business with
two trucks and total of five employees,
four cousins and one nephew..
 More
Car in Reverse

Is he awake or lost in a lucid
dream?
Drifting in a car beyond his reverie
The car shifts to reverse thrusts at
high speed
A frightening journey to abyss.
Too bizarre to be real, he wonders
As he’d already seen this farce
happening
Then he wakes just to realize
His runaway car swears to left and
right
On the same path of his dreams
The helpless driver in silence
Watching his destiny revealed.
Nothing he can do to alter
The ominous reality or the fantasy
A terrified witness, that’s all he is
Doomed to discern a horrific crash
Before or after his awakening  
End of Semester

I wander in a haze, lost in a bizarre
trance
Found myself on a college campus
and see
Some students are chatting, others
in rush to class
All holding books in their hands
Everyone has a purpose, a reason to
hang around
Why am I here? I cannot understand
The eerie setting gives me the
creeps,
Anxiety beyond belief
Suddenly I realize, I too am a
student
Today is end of semester
Time for final exam, yet
The textbook, I don’ have
The subject, I have no clue
I’ve never been to class
I ask others to show me the way
To where I take the final exam
Roam trough buildings to reach my
class
Look through the window inside the
room
Students are seated, the test in
progress  
Too late I must be! For what
however, I never grasp  
My heart is pounding thinking what
to do
At the end of this affair  
Nervously I nudge the door
And wake up wondering why  
Such a peculiar dream, I
continuously have
Death of Light        

“The historic event we are
about to witness will not affect
our lives in a meaningful way.
Human race is technologically
far more advanced to be
concerned with such
insignificant alteration. Life will
go on as usual.” A prominent
NASA scientist explained the
upcoming cosmetic change on a
major news network. His belief
was shared by religious and civic
leaders on the panel.  
More
We have everything
Contrary to my expectations, my
ten years old nephew who was
not surprised to see the slinky I’d
brought him as a souvenir from
the United States said, “We have
slinky too. Next time we go to
Bazaar, I’ll show it to you amoo
jaan or as you Americans say dear
uncle. Whatever you find in
America we have it right here in
Iran.”
More
Screw

A screw, a defective one, that’s what I
am. Pay attention! I’m not a nail. Nails
are flat head with no character I say.
They’re straightforward, I’m not. They
have no twists and turns, I do. They’re
easy going, I’m not.  Just hit a nail on
the head and it obediently does its job, I
don’t. You can easily straighten a
crooked nail with a hammer and it
works as good as new but hit me like
that and you’ll see what happens. I get
even....
More
Procrastinator
When he opened his eyes in the
morning, he was seventy years
old and it was time to re-evaluate
his life. He sat behind his desk and
carefully recorded all his The list
was long.

It started with his well crafted
plot to failure to accomplish this
mission had taken a heavy toll on
him.  Later in life he’d kissed so
many yet none replaced the one
he never had.
More
How to Get a Heart Attack

The most convenient way of
achieving a your stress level. And the
best method to raise your stress is to
torment yourself because you’re a
complete failure. Always try to
overlook your achievements in life-if
you had any- and concentrate on
your weaknesses and magnify your
shortcomings. Remember failure is
the key to success.
More
Cultural Relativism

“Have you met our new
neighbors?” Bob asked his wife,
peering out their kitchen window,
sipping his cold beer.
“Not yet. They just moved in a few
days ago.” Pork chops were
sizzling in the pan. “After they
settle in, we should go and meet
them.” She responded.
“They look funny, where are they
from?” He was ready to sink his
teeth into a juicy piece of meat,
the highlight of his upcoming
weekend.  
More
Prize         

When I got home exhausted from
another hectic day at work, I threw
myself on the sofa and turned on
the television. I’d fallen into my
routine, lying on the couch, flipping
through the channels aimlessly. I
didn’t want to do anything
especially the honey-do’s. Oh, and I
just could not bear thinking of the
pile of paperwork on my desk
waiting for me the next morning.  
More
Mr. Biok                                                   

When I look back at my childhood, I
see a barefoot kid running after a ball.
My main pastime, just like every other
boy in our neighborhood, was to chase
a striped plastic ball we’d all chipped
in to buy for 8 Rials. That’s all we
needed to have fun. Our street was
full of players of all ages, starting with
little ones like myself to those with
faces blanketed in mustaches and
beards. We all shared the same
passion.
More
Sinful Urge

Neither the soothing sound of breeze,
nor the tweeting birds or the melody
of rain played on the stereo system in
my bedroom gave me the comfort I
deserved. My mind was inescapably
trapped by a grueling urge throwing
my entire body into painful disarray.  
Once again I was captivated by an
insatiable craving in the middle of the
night. By hardly lifting my eyelids, I
was persuaded by the heavy burden of
their weight it was too early to be
tomorrow, the torment was bound to
linger on.   
More
Cold Rain

Didn’t I stroll under its refreshing mist
a thousand times? Didn’t it make me
wet on the way to school? Didn’t it ruin
my homework times and again? Didn’t
the young palms of my hands endure
the sting of punishment every time?
Didn’t it give me the cold, the
congested nose and the cough and the
horrible taste of cough syrup
afterward?  Didn’t I drop the vitamin C
tablet in a glass of water, dazzled with
the fizzle and down it with a frown?
Wasn’t it all because of rain?
More
Adam and Eve
Adam was sleeping on his back,
snoring loudly. His annoying noise
echoed through the cave and kept
Eve from sleeping a wink. The
moment she dozed off, his
unpleasant sounds woke her. She
finally rolled over and gripped his
nose shut ‘til he couldn’t breathe.
Adam’s chest shook violently and
jumped awake.   
More
PREMONITION                                
                                                     

“Would you like another
one?” The man sitting at the
bar offered a drink to the
beautiful woman next to him.

“Ah. I don’t think so, I’m
getting tipsy,” she said.

“That’s what Friday night is
for,” he chuckled.

“Are you trying to get me
drunk?” The stranger beauty
said in a seductive tone while
playing with the empty glass
in her hand.                     
More
The Old Picture
Where was I? I questioned
Every time I gazed
At the shades of gray
On the vintage photo
Of my brother and pregnant Mom
Where was I?
The gloomy faces etched on the
paper
Made me wonder

“You were there. Outside the frame"
My sister told me once  

For so many years
I’ve examined the lines
Of the grim faces
Frozen in time
Searched for a truth
If it ever was  
 More
Lucky Night

“Congratulations, Mr. Grand. We all
the one you purchased a week ago.
It almost doubled today.” The
security guard grinned holding the
heavy glass door open for the
investment banker.

Grand called over his shoulder
“Thank you, Roger. Remember,
nothing is random. Everything
happens for a reason.” He adjusted
the lapel of his Armani suit and made
his way down the dimly-lit alley to his
Mercedes Benz.  
More
Utterance    
“Hmm.” That’s all I hear from her.
She makes this sound to show me
she’s which happens frequently,
she sits silently, stares into my eyes
and listens. I can trace her words. I
love the way she scratches her
right ear.
More
Encounter

Once again, the same pervert
followed me in the darkest streets of
my nights but he’d never managed
to catch me yet. When I run out of
breath and the split second before
he lays a hand on me, I usually trip
and hit my head on a curb or crash
into traffic light pole on the street
corner and wake up in cold sweat.
The minute I fall asleep, I have to
run for my life. I’nightmare over and
again.  
More
Prisoner
I reside on the top level of a
skyscraper, so high in the sky
that I’m too scared to look
window-the only opening to
down. When I look out the
outside world- all I see is thick
cloud below and infinite sky
above. My residence has no
door.  I have no way of
communicating with outside
world, if such thing exists. I’ve
lived in a solitary confinement
all my life, yet I have no
complains.   
More
Christmas Eve
“Go talk to your professors, do
something. The entire summer you
you nothing,” she wiped her tears.
“I owe them tuitions for the last two
semesters.”
“Talk to the Foreign Students Advisor.
Tell her we’ve two small kids.”
“I already did. She said that’s the
university policy. If there is a balance,
they garnish my income.”
“They do what to your income?”  
More
Conversation in Park  
The entire week I worried about
the day off. Chores I’d postponed
for months. The gutter was falling
off the wall, letting rain to seep
under the foundation. The worse
were our lack luster antique dining
chairs. I’d already bought
sandpaper, a paintbrush, thinner
and varnish to give them a make-
up.
 More
Waiting                                                         
The old man is here to visit his son, he
does that every month. Now he must be
sitting alone in his son’s empty room
gazing through his thick glasses at the
tarnished flowers woven into the heart
of the Persian rug. Once again I go there
and stand by the door watching him in
silence.  
More
Apocalypse        

On the porch leaning against the wall
with a cup of coffee in my hand, I was
wondering if I was qualified to
refinance my home mortgage at a
lower rate. The voice of the
meteorologist on the television who
said “enjoy your sunny weekend” in
the background echoed in my ears.
More  
Nuisance Hope

In the winter of my garden
The luscious green is dormant,
And the yard inundated with weeds
Only a few blown dandelions in sight
Four silent raindrops in a row
On a slender leaf of a crabgrass
Morphed into the crystals of ice
Before my bewildered eyes
I cry and my tear falls
Right between the frozen bulbs.
My fallen tear
Shivering in the breeze  
A heavy burden
On the frail slender grass.
I moan in sorrow
But my hazy sigh
Turns into a morning dew
One more frozen marble
On the fragile nuisance weed.
It finally breaks
We all fall
Shatter on the ground.
My only hope is
If the warm spring
Arrives early
My sigh blended in tear
Germinate the nuisance weed
Once again in coming year.
Trial

To the right stands the accused. In
the center, a black-robed judge sits
behind the bench and to the left
are five white-robed angels.

Judge says (flipping through pages
of a file): Cause of death?

Accused: Concussion and severe
head injury due to torture.

Judge: The file says suicide.

More
A Few Recommendations to Stop
Airborne Terrorism

Idea 1

Profile all Muslims and people of
Middle Eastern Background
Since these people are prime
suspects anyway, profiling against
them not only makes sense but
saves travelers and tax payers
billions of dollars every year.  
More
In the Realm of Reality
...Deep inside I could not blame people
for thinking this way though. But I was
hoping to be discriminated against in a
McDonald's or Wal-Mart so I could sue
the hell out of them. My looks could
have come to my rescue at least once!
But contrary to my expectations, that
never happened.
guiltless man on the run, waiting to get
caught just to prove his innocence...
More
Gypsy    

I was born in Ahvaz, a city in
there until I reached 9 years
old. Those days we mocked
anyone unlike us, non-Moslems
and people who spoke with
different accents were our best
subjects. We took the most
delight in scoffing those who
dressed differently.
More
Heroes
Heroes are bones in our conscious graves,
Perished in prisons, exiled in solitude.
And there’re traitors, imperfect idols,
Damaged goods
Who failed to live up to our ethical code.

Heroes are free, they don’t cost any
So it’s good to have a few,
To use as we please.
Like the sardines, cream cheese,
And ketchup when we eat.
Next to bandage, cough syrup
An aspirin for quick relief.
They don’t take space
Shuffled in a pile of vintage photos,
Lost in the lines of our unread books.
More
Annoying Corpse

“The old people who refuse to die
are annoying and the ones who
return from dead are nothing short
of obnoxious.”

Mr. Nader was morbidly still in his
rocking chair throughout the
vengeance of Rambo. He didn’t even
blink when Rambo pierced the villains’
bodies with his razor sharp dagger and
his serenity was not disturbed when
the blood of the ruthless mercenaries
splashed all over the widescreen
television screen.  
More

Best Buy

“An old lady with an innocent face
and a huge hand bag, the perfect
combination to pull off a petty
crime.”

“What’re you up to now?”
 More
Most Stupid Race of All!
A racially insensitive commentary
Although, the title of this article is
not politically correct, the readers
are advised not to fly off the
handle just yet because I'm not
referring to any of the color-coded
races as we know them. It's not
about White, Black, Yellow, Red,
or Stripes. There is no factual
evidence confirming that any of
these "races" being more or less
stupid than the others.
More
Vincent and Franz

Vincent and Franz were my neighbors
when I was young
Each lived in a corner house at the end
Of our dead end alley invisible to naked
eyes.
Where was this neighborhood? Some
people ask.
The ones who know where I was born
Don’t believe a word of mine.
Iran has no foreigners
Let alone two in your side of town.  
More
First Crime        

No one has ever been
sentenced to a more severe
punishment called
education as young as I was.
“I don’t know how to punish
him anymore, I ran out of
ideas, I tried everything,”
my mother said to my
father one night as tears
were running down her
face. And the next day my
sentence was carried out. I
was three years old.  
More
Standing on One Foot

One day as I was standing on one
foot
In the back corner of the room
To get punished for
Causing commotion in the class,
The superintendent knocked on
the door,
Stuck his bald head inside
And called my name out loud.
Students turned their heads
wondering
What other rules had I violated
this time.  
More
Bicycle Thief

Reading newspapers is one of my
hobbies. I usually go to the local
library, grab a stack of papers from
different cities and read the news.
I like to read about people and
especially interested in local crime
reports.
 More
Insomnia                       

“Don’t. Don’t make a move. Let me
crush you right on the spot.  You’ll be
punished for invading my privacy in
the middle of the night.  I declared its
death sentence with a swatter in my
hand, but the fly on the wall wasn’t
afraid.  It was mocking me with its
repulsive compound eyes the very
moment I issued the death warrant.
The second I raised my hand, it flew
off the wall and crashed into the
window glass, and circled the room
like a maniac.  I patiently waited for
the right time.
  More
Soldier
In the name of God
In defense of motherland,
For the cause of liberty
The purity of race
Or all of the above
I’ve shed so much blood
In history of mankind and
Died millions of times.   
More
A Game of Backgammon
Or Clash of Cultures

A few nights ago, I was in the mood for
playing a relaxing game of backgammon
on the Internet, the game I learned
from masters in my childhood. There are
a few advantages in playing
backgammon on the Internet. Cheating
is impossible and Korkory (bragging and
trash talk) is optional as one can turn off
the chat feature.
More
Missing Man

This was not the first time I engaged
in such unusual transactions, I found
it to be a tad more dignified than
bumming a cigarette.  One out of
five people whom I pitched this deal,
refused to accept the money and
offered me one for gratis, he was
not one of them.   

“Thanks you so much, I was this close
to cave in.” My index finger touched
my thumb before his eyes.
More
A Work of Art

One day an artist who was
exploring nature, stumbled across
a rock, a rough piece with jagged
edges and sharp corners.  In this
unrefined granite, he saw a wild
and natural beauty, so he took it
home to create art.

For days and weeks and months,
he gradually carved his anger,
engraved his passion and imprinted
his love. He chiseled his pain,  
More

Dream of Mirror

The cold autumn breeze, this enigmatic
brush
Deviously paints the winter
And while I’m making love
In red, yellow and orange
Of the fallen leaves,
Throws me into a silky abyss
Beyond the snowy horizon.
I close my eyes wondering
Perhaps spring is imprisoned far in reverie.
In the hazy dream of mirror
A man’s tarnished shadow appears
Pretending to be asleep
Yet, his eyelids jerk,
Not breathing in harmony.
And the pity is,
No one would ever recall,
The illusive spring of his rogue fantasy.
Bright Daylight

Sky is bright
Face of eternal blue
Is not tainted by clouds.
Storm is not hiding
To ambush the calm
Cold rain is not falling
To quench a burning fever,
Winter is not on the way
To draw the frozen love
On the fogged window.
The universe is not
Conspiring today
Sky is shiny, air so clear  
The wind is visible
Its majestic voyage  
Reflects on fantasy.  
Then why is it so sad
To witness the breeze when
In silence of our presence
Crush thousands of
Blown wishes
Of dandelions to the ground.
My Beloved!

What are you?
To me perhaps,
The distant memories
Of a rowdy child.
The Goosebumps
In the cold dark cinema
With a frosty Pepsi in.
Or perhaps,
The garlic flavor of bologna
The orange color of Fanta

More
Jinn

According to Islamic mythology and
Persian folklore Jinn or genies are
creatures that live in parallel world to
that of mankind.  

My ominous association with ghosts
goes back to my early childhood years.
Aunt Sedighe, my father’s youngest
sister lived in Shoushtar, one of the
oldest cities in the world, dating back
to Achaemenian dynasty (400 BC).
Shoushtar used to be the winter
capital of Sassanian dynasty and it was
built by the Karoun River.  
More
Happiness

I know happiness exists
I felt it in the nap I took
On my aunt Zari’s lap
I savored it in
The curry stew
It was in white velvet
Of the first snow I ever saw
And in darkness
Of the Van Gogh’s Starry Night.
More
Darkness

When darkness creeps inside me
I watch it with despair
When it fills my soul
I touch it with tenderness
And when it lurks in solitude
I keep it company
Maybe it has something to say
Maybe I need to listen
Maybe I must learn

Axiom

I would never die if I wasn’t born!
Inferno

How I reached the sky?
I don’t know
Why?
An impulse perhaps
To share the joy

As I gazed into heaven
When the clouds painted the
canvas
White on deepest blue
More
Unfaithful                                              

“Is something wrong? At least tell me what
this is about?” She is alarmed.

“I really can’t explain it over the phone.”

“I’m not meeting with a perfect stranger
unless I know what the heck is going on. I’m
hanging up right now... Unless you tell me
what this is about…”
 More
Fictional Character

From where I sit behind my
computer desk, I can always
hear the rumbling of his truck
before I turn my head to see
him shoving the articles of mail
into the mail boxes. The
mailman reaches our street
everyday around eleven. I
admire his driving skills, the
way he maneuvers his little
white truck to fit in between
the two parked cars on either
side of my mailbox.    
More
Hook                         

As I do every night I took just a sip of water
before I went to bed. If I drink more, I wake
up in the middle of the night for a trip to
bathroom and the tormenting insomnia
afterward is inevitable. I’ve learned by
experience that water at night epitomizes
shattered dreams and painful awakening.
Then I tucked myself in and just before
closing my eyes, I glanced at the image of
myself victoriously parading my prized catch
dangling from the fishing line wrapped
around my wrist hanging in the frame
above my bed.
More
Fidelity Ring, The Wedding Ring of
the Future
                                        

To All Married Women:

If your husband is a man and he has
in his possession a fully functional
male organ then he is genetically
designed to cheat on you, it’s just a
matter of when and not if.  And if
you don’t know, you’re either naive
or completely dumb.

The male character is formed
around this retractable object.  If
this flaccid organ is not exercised a
few times a day, then the man
attached to it does not function
properly in social interactions. And if
it is, then the man behaves
“normally”, then he is  obsessed with
sex about 85% of the times.  
More
I will become rain

My ashes scatter in the wind
Particles of my being rise to sky
Sigh and blue unite.
Birds take my sigh to dark clouds
The heaven cries
Drop of sigh
Locked in crystal of light  
Will gently fall
That’s how destiny
Once again,
Sows me in depth of ground.

From sigh one day
Hope germinates
Green like spring
Bright as water
As innocent as daylight.
Solitude

Loneliness is when inside an infinite circle
You’re the center and feel outside.
Everything in your life is defined, yet
You’re mystified with one unknown
Yourself and nothing else!
You pose perfectly in picture
The image doesn’t fit the frame.
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Anthem of Lambs

Bah, bah, bah, bah
We lambs are gentle creatures
Never harm anyone
Peace and harmony
Green pasture and spring weather
That’s all we love
This is our nature.
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On the Edge

Standing on the edge
Of insanity and reason
Wondering which way to fall
To live the life.

What a quandary it is
Choosing between one
It’s impossible to set them apart.

One delves into the other for so long
To discover its own image in the mirror.

Disenchanted madness and sanity
Stare at reflection and
Laugh and laugh and laugh
Realizing how absurd and ridiculous
The other one looks.


Rogue Imagination

Ink spilled, smeared the paper
Stain ravaged the page
Wild fantasies and raw emotions
Were formed.
Then enemies clashed
A silent chaos was portrayed
In presence of calm
Vivid fear, fading hope, chronic despair
Etched in paper before my eyes.

Dark fluid soaked the surface
Splattered ink pierced the core
When random blobs morphed
Characters were born
An eerie poem was revived
A vague mélange of fantasy
Rhythmic expression of awe
Inundated with daring questions
Fake quotations, redundant periods
Exclamations all along!
My existence suddenly
Came to life
Nothing makes any sense
Neither the haunting images
Nor the melancholic words.
Echo

You’re nothing
A pale reflection
Of nothingness is nothing at all.

Don’t ricochet in my emptiness
You aimless noise
So I hear a voice to feel alive,
That’s so cruel.

Go away
Strike others
Disappear in the crowd
Get absorbed by anyone
Not by me anymore
Get lost
And forever
Leave me alone.
An Absurd Story

Come! Listen to my story
And judge with your heart.
It starts somewhere, not where it should.
It has all the elements, not in right places.
It has a plot that makes no sense.
Characters are there
But they’re not themselves.
Dialogs are fancy, all so meaningless
Everything is absurd
And the irony is
I have no power to make any change.
One thing is certain
Like any other tale
Mine, one day ends
Sooner or later!
Saeed Tavakkol
Expose Yourself to
Art & Literature
Guns and consciousness
In memory of victims of elementary
school massacre

What is wrong with us
Fallen in love with our guns?
Obsessed with an outdated right
“Of the people to bear arms”
Written two centuries ago
“A well regulated Militia to secure a
free state.”
Is that why we worship guns?
When was the last time
People deterred the tyranny of their
government
Formed Militia with guns in their
hands?

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What I loved

First I fell in love with sour cherries
Then the girl next door
Later books, freedom and justice

None worked out well so far
A cherry gave me a choke once
The girl’s father slapped me around
Reading was illegal
Blacklisted I was, on the run,
Justice came after me
Landed in prison for a long time

And now,
Cherries, love and freedom
Taste bitter in my mouth.
Dream

I am interpretation of my dreams
A shattered mirror of reverie
Fragmented fantasies
Disjointed thoughts
Piece together by magic
To form days of my life.

That’s
What
How
And who I am
The personification of
My own dreams.

Nothing real will happen tomorrow
If it’s not in my dreams tonight
Or the nights I had before.
Nothing has ever been real
Had it not been present
In my dreams prior.

Life is a trance
An illusion on stage
I play an active role
In a theater of a sort
Reality is
I don’t see dreams
Dreams are seeing me.
Specter

When I roam the alleys of fantasy,
Plunge into the  maze of desire,
The paradise of the whim
When I vanish in the rouge shade of caprice,
Drowned in the abyss  
When survival whiter in the velvet of dream  
How uninhabited I am, how free I feel
A vice or virtue this privilege is? I wonder
A blissful ecstasy, that all it is.
Ambivalence

The inner world of mine and the outer collide
In the haze of explosion fantasy is born
Mere existence forms my dreams
Only in dreams I feel alive
It’s no longer possible to tell them apart
My ambivalence is vague and inconceivable, I know  
Yet,
I can live with it; why no one else tries?
Buried Treasure

Buried for thousands of years
The fabric of the soul
The collective conscience of the man
Indeed, that wandering spirit is alive
It crushes into my dream, Ignites a fire
A sight, a sense, aroma, a melody perhaps
Sparks reminiscence of not the past,
Of the future in fact
That’s the exotic mélange,
The vision I have time to time
The crux of what I feverishly inscribe.
Reality and Truth

There is reality
And there is truth
Enigma is the link of the two
Reality lives without truth
Alas, truth exists only
If understood in real
Moment    
                                        
   He left work at 5 sharp preoccupied with
the faulty lock on the laundry room door in
the garage. Last week his wife assigned him
an urgent maintenance job.

   “The door locked by itself and I had to use
my key to get into the house, make sure to
fix it,” she said.
“I’ll have to get a new lock for it,” he
replied.

   And just to be on the safe side, he hung
an extra key on a hook in the garage.  Every
minor issue of the house was potentially a
huge headache.

“I was busy this week; I’ll get it done this
weekend. In the meantime, if you get
locked out, just use the extra key by the
door.”

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