It took one hour to define the war on Iran --
A massacre becoming the hallmark of American aggression,
168 girls, ages 7 to 12, incinerated by the smart bombs, their teachers too.
Minab is now a metaphor for the entire war,
Mentioned on page 11 of New York Times, not fit to print on front page with the headline"American atrocity in Iran." That would be uncharacteristic candor!
Sometimes the imperialists bury their own atrocity under a soft deceiving rhetoric, like the words "alleged"or "under investigation," hoping the time is on their side, but it ain 't.
Minab s girls are not forgotten, their pictures adorn the streets of Iran, remembered forever.
If one does not blame the culprits who blame it on "dated targets," empires get away with their madness, though Minab is now engraved on the forehead of Western civilization --an eternal sin that can t be washed away, call it Iran 's Mai Lai, binding the downtrodden of the South in their oceanic empathy.
Is Love a defect?
It could be considered
an emotional weakness
A chink in the armor
It causes you to
do unusual things- - - - -
Can get you to
alter your whole life
Do things that
are uncharacteristic
Bend you into it's
desires and whims
It is like being
under a magical spell
with potions and elixirs
It can even be
a defect in
your personality
But it also has
it's rewards that go
beyond your wildest imagination
Uphill battles are won and lost in the crosswinds
Gusts of defiance brazenly slap across the terrain
If a path is forged it must be carved with a machete
Steppingstones nothing but laughable afterthought
This must be faced with uncharacteristic courage
The wind howls a chorus of unseen dissent
Blistered hands carve will from the wild
The earth unyielding resists with taunts
Testing the weight of every step’s intention
No storm can drown a relentless heart
No vines can choke a mindset on ascent
Step by step against the crush of fate
The summit waits for nobody so I climb
murder
alcohol
drug induced state
uncharacteristic
madness
falsified ashes
uncharacteristic dust
synthetic flashes
artificial wind blows rust
plainly felt when life goes bust
I pick your apples with a gentleness uncharacteristic of my kind.
I eat them with a fervor that may only come from me.
You are my garden of Eden and I gladly take any fruit the snake may provide me
Because having a piece of you, however unlasting, is better than having none.
Because I hold onto you like a farmer holding his last crop.
And I feast. I allow myself to consume.
If you have the ability to go, then god knows I have the ability to devour.
You might perchance think: why this change of heart,
But things do change. Not so is from change free,
Give me one chance, one chance for a new start.
I thought, he cannot think of life sans me,
And hence this uncharacteristic plea:
Time changes and I'd too— for my own sake.
Look, my life's a golf ball perched ‘pon a tee,
I agreed, not sure where would go this rake.
The life when lurks on point of no return,
Oft turns, prodded by head, much less by heart,
Nor yet knows what it wants, nor cares to learn,
And my life had become oh a pushcart—
You get when frozen, snow sinks down lower,
Chilly frost's felt and stupor takes over.
______________________________________________
Sonnets | 02.11.2016, revised Sept 2022 |
Poet’s note: Life often turns out a series of compromises, not just adjustments. Marriage is sometimes more so. The lady of this sonnet here is caught in one such marriage, a victim of infidelity and falsehoods. A time comes when she no more cares, or she is too tired to, and a stupor takes over.
unconventional
mingling which
deviated from
the norm created
atypical interactions
in which the uncharacteristic
irregularity became normal
standard even within the
land of relationships past
Beauty for ashes
You heard that before
When do you ever see beauty?
In the magazine, right?
Or is it here in you?
You have the beauty within
And you have beauty with out
Your outward appearance
Can't put less emphasis on that
And your inward appearance
The one you are to God
God sees and knows you as you are supposed to be
So whatever you are to Him, that is who you are
So don't try anything new, different
God sees and knows when you try to pull something else on Him
Are you loving, uncharacteristic, materialistic, animalistic
Ballistic... I can go on
But anything you are, it's all beautiful in the eyes of God
God takes you as you are
You don't have to change to accommodate the Man upstairs
Does God ever tell you to change?
He knows He can get what He wants
So what's the worry?
If He doesn't like it, you know He will change it
Do you ever know God does not get His way?
I was sober when I was feeble.
I had flaws and knew it too.
A taste of higher ranks was enchanting to me.
The glamour, the pride was just so cool
In reality, I looked grounded
When a whiff of success touched me low.
I tried to be the same old guy,
Who never had seen affluence before!
It started as a senseless influence.
Behold! It had corrupted my soul.
Before I knew the way to crawl
I ran towards fire as if it was cold.
I rest on the thorny bed of rocks,
And I sleep not till the pill goes in.
If I had something which could make me rest,
I would give this chaotic world to him!
Exhumed in pride and unhampered by travesty,
I travel alongside the faceless men.
The debt of success is not repayable.
A slow decay into indistinguishable remnants.
The vertigo of my rise is uncharacteristic.
It feels as If I am buried into layers of grime.
A lesson to remember you all must wonder,
I will unabashedly smirk when it is your time!
If these thoughts are real
then they must be
uncharacteristic
of normal...
A balance of abnormal
that is both astringent
and self absorbing.
In abstinence they
become relentless
in their pursuit
(until)
the remaining raw edges
of hope surrenders
to un-forgiveness.
Crying for tears,
an emollient for despair.
ps: not so sure just where this came from of if it even makes sense.just wrote it
down in a flash.
Why are thee as cold as a winter’s day?
Thy resounding radiance of thy love
Hath fallen like snow in this month of May.
This is so uncharacteristic of
Thy character that hath always been hot
For me. Thy soul seems tempered, tired and
Bitter cold, causing thy warm heart to stop
And shiver as I grasp your chilly hand.
Hath thee found a fresher sun to brighten
Thy sultry smile from a frozen frown?
Does thou not adore me, please enlighten?
My memory, my mind is freezing down.
Thy fierce blaze of thy love has embarked,
Thy flames put out, thy fire now a spark.
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