The twitter account I had neglected for so long came to good use since the fraudulent election results on Friday.  I found out that when

Ahmadinejad is claiming landslide victory. The official ministry of interior results show 64% Ahmadinejad victory! Moussavi shouts fraud and demands recount. Not even the pro-Ahmadinejad

It is difficult to change ones stance on an issue and not be accused of flip-flopping. It is especially hard to do here in Iranian.com

I have given up all hopes of a regime change in Iran.  Heck I can’t even change my own regime (in the French sense of

The sounds of spring have no reason To stop   Nature shows off her clout   Unable to anticipate Her fate   She continues  

Today is inauguration day. It is the day all of us who supported Obama have been awaiting. It is the day welcomed by all those,

The Glass House, competing in the World Documentary category at the Sundance Film Festival, is a one of those rare films that make you forget

Iranians can be extremely racist.  I was first made aware that Iranians were perceived, by others in the region, as arrogant racists by a Pakistani

Once again Israel has illustrated that she cares little about public opinion. Israel has shown that she has the shameless audacity to bomb civilians in

It is Election Day in the United States.  I am surprised at how excited I actually am.  It feels like it is my wedding day! 

This Norouz I sit, Heavy, The weight of my heart Pulling me down. I shed tears Centuries old, Tears of my ancestors. All those women

I backed the war in Iraq even though I have always been a democrat. My reason for cheering the Americans when they invaded Iraq was

they buried a friend today whose heart, they say kept beating long after he was dead . what if all kind hearts stayed alive even

This is the first Christmas that I am without my children.  But I am not sentimental about Christmas not having really grown up with it. 

I just read the Columbia Iranian student’s news release about Ahmadinejad’s invitation to that illustrious institution of higher learning and was disgusted. Does our youth

    Waking to the sound of cicadas Wrapped in the sweaty tulle of mid-summer Every movement lingers: becomes sensual The mind in a haze

    Waking to the sound of cicadas Wrapped in the sweaty tulle of mid-summer Every movement lingers: becomes sensual The mind in a haze

I am an American. Of the Iranian variety. I became an American largely because I wanted to be able to travel easier without having to

  I am All I despise Weak, needy  And unwise   Jealous To the point Where I cannot Breathe or swallow   In envy of

Stop that ticking Never skipping A single beat All these years Drumming in my ears Thump, thump, thump Stop, I have had enough Tired of

I have witnessed a person’s slow decline into death twice.  The first time it was my father.  At the age of ninety-eight he became bedridden

What is it about these tears? Flowing so audaciously through the years. Vulgarly precipitous, Abundant To the point Of losing their meaning. Yet never free

This Monday morning I went to check iranian.com like I do whenever I get a chance.  Living in France I am blissfully free of the

  Sorrow comes in different grades: The one-night stand Who Runs  With the first rays of sun, Having had his fun. There is the one