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And three other poems



Tara Shirani
December 26, 2006

I dawn at the dawn of another day
shadows lick each alleyway
My spineless obituary creeping closer
as the sun fades, ray by ray
the the shade-- I am free
from the opression of God
the Good, the Bad, the Evil
the separation of human connectiveness
the congression of irrelevant indecisiveness
and still-- we fool ourselves.

The Devil
Invest some time in me
Open your eyes to the tormented
Complexities of my inner core
More raw than hardcore
Attune your senses to dividing
Divine from senseless
Truth is taboo
In fact, it's meaningless
And inferior to
I watch from a distance
Sometime later on
I'll pray to God for repentance
Hoping he wont put a period
At the end of my sentence
Or take one out
I'm on my third life
I've already experienced the Aftermath
The death, the rebirth
Seen the Devil's Black hands
With white gloves
Covered in blood
When he freed me from captivity
But condemned my soul to misery
And blew me the kiss of Death...

I Began To Write From Scratch
already knowing how many pages I'd scrap
Scribble, crumple, and tear
Silent movements with the pen, unmoving
Deep blankets of empty thought
and when I close my eyes
I envision I am whole again
Your hands caressing
Every fleshy curve
Until you spill your seed
over shifted linen sheets
and there's no sense in portraying innocence
though I scream
from within oceans of introverted madness
After the eye of the storm has cried
and I tease you with soft "fuck me" eyes
and the perversion is necessary
Since I speak of twisted, intimate things
And the life that was once in me....
The satisfaction is
Subtle. Yet empowering...

Yes, the life I lead

Broken Glass
I left you a glass
But you never came.
this morning, I smashed its empty, dust-laden matter
into miniscule particles
which landed on my bare feet
Like confetti--
I know you can comiserate
The sense of satisfaction you get
From destroying something irreperably
Then dusting the pieces into a disposable tray....
changing the material makeup of the world
and concequently, me.
I know you can't see me fully
Just perforated pieces
of friends
that became acquaintances
and a wordy thesis about life
"you know, I have pain too"

'we all do.'

To Tara Shirani
For letters section


The Poems of Hafez
202 ghazals in English
Translated by Reza Ordoubadian


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