Spot-on

Spot-on

Oh ladybug, oh ladybug, I like the coat on your back
Black dots over your colour I read before you flew away
Into the centre of something stationary with a comfortable smile
Fly back to the sunflower with the deceptive name
For its nectar will fade from your stomach in a little while
And you’ll turn your antennas to your next sweet conquest
Keep taking what you need to fuel your lust filled feet
Leaving only the husks, a miserable mess, an ignorant head

I thought ladybugs ate away the pests of the heart
I’m often mistaken with my overoptimistic thoughts
Such petty desires when the garden has so much to offer
I wish you’d fly into something that would just stop and stick
And time alone would make you think of what’s really within
Your layovers do take a physical toll as the black spots attest
You’re eating fast-food with no thoughts of what you did
Oh ladybug, oh ladybug, I like your coat and its self-inflicted stains

Mother Nature Doesn’t Abide To Rules Never Written Down

Mother Nature Doesn’t Abide To Rules Never Written Down

I used to get lost among a sea of weeping willows
Hardly afloat, struggling below the waves of self-doubt
Until I was washed ashore in a foreign place bare of regret
Up river from that delta’s gangly grasp and salty weight

A mysterious beauty brushed my hand
So I allowed my thumb to rest over hers
And we just rode atop the water’s swell
Surfing on seconds, our hearts so doused

She flowered my cheeks with gentle endearment
The petals guiding my heart’s progression
As she clad me in something that I never want to shed
Try as I might I still haven’t discovered it yet

I just know that this bud will mature
Nothing about this water pale stunts our growth
Although we’re both parched for a little more
Refreshment comes when the last grain falls

The chipped paint and rust are sanded away
As the leaves of my calendar flutter everyday
The trees’ glares sometimes reflect silly segways
But we giggle and refuse to remain stationary

Mother Nature controls the flow’s direction
We’re exactly where we’re suppose to be
Keep adding question marks to the tails of your thoughts
I hope we both have fruitful futures at the orchard’s gate

Just like grass growing in the sidewalk’s cracks
Some life is just meant to be
We’re claustrophobic beneath this concrete
But one day we’ll grab the Sun’s rays

I don’t need any trail markers
When I get lost in your verdant eyes
Under this canopy of comfort we’ll keep drifting asleep
And continue to float down this river of fallen leaves

A Crow's Song In An Unnatural Smog

A Crow’s Song In An Unnatural Smog

Aesthetics and cream on front covers
Soot on coalminers’ gloves and shovels
Keep on plundering our Mother
Keep on marring each other
Let’s all become the same
No need for movement
Let monotony tame us lame
We’ve written the will of our Elder
Let us decorate our costumes with,
Sapphires of Slander

All I saw were muddled puddles of woe
No sunlight to reflect my fears and knows
Hidden beneath the surface
I thought I’d keep them locked below,
Oh, the concession of the Status Quo...

I was even with the world
No odder than an eloquent crow
We continue to yearn for longer decibels
As our mountain rumbles and moans...

The pragmatic peak of constructive minds
Why shouldn’t we turn sense into dollars?
The court of our soul should not reprieve
For there are no aches that we relieve

Painkillers minus
the agony,
Inducing skeptical
melancholy,
We propagate and mime
The fires of our fathers’ lies
Man’s best intentions swerved left,
A slew of passionate drunks stumbling awry

Forgive me if I refuse to loiter
Through tortured waters I begin to row
I am lost somewhere up river
Zero visibility
Loss of flow,
The fog refuses to dither
How can I move forward?
When I can’t see two feet in front of me
Never mind the shore

the Current, the Willows, and the Tide

the Current, the Willows, and the Tide

A maze X-ing, I see
My provenance mine which I cannot lease
I’m holding the button until it’s no longer green
As I count the seconds until I fall asleep

“N”, “Y”, “Z”
Let them take the place of this last release
Since I lost the tally of my prior stumbles
My mine rumbles as I make an oneiric leap

I’ve searched the shafts for memorable mannequins
Hoping a deluge of manic ire will wash me to the ocean
Oxygen isn’t essential when you’re drowning from within
Perpetual panic breathes are all that remain

When I reach the sunlight I download another reason
Just keep on walking until it darkens in the evening
I must’ve been washed ashore somewhere up River
Now it’s myself that I must deliver

I lave the ash from my indifferent face
Defecate self-loathing doubt which tries to bait
Lying in the Forest, I see the cross linked iron
But the willows grab my attention as they begin to cry

“It’s only a vice that occupies your mine”
“You’ve been short minded by an obsession to dine”
“On something to Tide you over until the next wave”
“It’s much more than water that’s tried to break”

Mental conflict I’ve understood in novels
How did I not hear my mine’s echoing wallows?
I walk over to the surface of the wise and merciful River
Right after I thank the Willows for averting my blunder

I self-reflect like I have so many prior times
Fresh water shines a face wearing a candor smile
Maybe I can’t smooth out what’s been chiseled past
But I can carve deeper meaning into this quarried cast

Crayola Crayons and Hurricanes

Crayola Crayons and Hurricanes

I sit here in the early hours of the morning
Blissful piercing silence rages war on my ears
It’s a battle I’m always willing to wage
Bathing forests with blood rightly paid

Before the sun begins to notice
That a new day has already begun
I embrace a second of nostalgia
As I stare at arriving spectral rungs

Even since the day I began to meander
Towards the horizon in my mind
I never shun the opportunity
To view nature in it’s truest shade and shine

If there’s one thing I’ve learned
Even the brightest colors have hints of grey
Most have more than a couple
Like trying to paint without meeting the lanes

Like a bolt of lightning
Zigzagging from the hand of Zeus
What we see is quarrelsome
Plus a bunch and a little bit more

There is no straight spark
That lights the bulb in our minds
All we have is useless filament
Gentleman Edison was far too kind

All those words I’ve scribbled
In response to cloud-cover deceit
Truth and hate can brew a baneful elixir
Regardless of the end we intend to meet

Just add the right surface temperature
A few words
Wing-clipped birds
Salt
And her delusions
Just insert your own name
And watch her destroy the crew’s unison

How far inland must she go?
Until she realizes how blind she really is
What’s the point in seeing eye to eye?
Maybe my mind's much too weak

Don’t read this the wrong way
I haven’t a single regret
I’m merely admiring a windstorm
And all the lives that she will wreck

Crayola, slow down
You’re way ahead of the times
Most of us haven’t even grasped the basics
Let alone sailed through strokes of caribbean-lime

None of us deserve to see in color
But we’ll rip the wrapper right off the crayon
And continue to scribble ferociously
Until nothing but callous natures remain

We’re merely magpies attracted to another pocket watch
But we haven’t the time to hide the facts
We’re merely lurid moons trying to flaunt our shine
But we haven’t the desire to realign our gaze

This is what comes to mind in the silent morning light
Thoughts of futility in humanity’s might

Green Burkas Start a Sand Storm: Iran’s Divisions and Relationship with the West

This is an article I wrote a while ago. Enjoy. =)

Green Burkas Start a Sand Storm: Iran’s Divisions and Relationship with the West

I’m fairly sure you have read about the events that have recently transpired in Iran. If not I’m positive enough to place a bet on the chance you’ve heard the words “Iran”, “election”, and “riot” uttered in the same sentence. Hopefully I won’t regret betting on this rather than red in roulette.

In order to understand the current situation and to give this election historical context, I’m going to briefly explain how Iran’s current theocratic democracy was created. In 1979, subsequent to the Islamic Revolution’s success in overthrowing the Western backed Shah, a theocratic Iranian republic was formed. Ayatollah Ali Khomenei became the Supreme Leader under the new Iranian constitution. He represented the new order of the velayat-e-faqih, or Islamic jurists, who would now hold the responsibility of “guardianship” over the Iranian people. The West viewed this coup d'état as a mere transition of absolute power. Although there is validity behind that belief, the newly formed theocracy was fervently supported at the dawn of its inception. Khomenei had much stronger backing and civilian consent in Iran than Lenin did in Russia sixty years earlier.

In contrast to previous elections, the difference with this Iranian election is that outcry hasn’t been restricted to thoughts or whispers. Mass protests in the Iranian capital of Tehran and in small pockets throughout the nation are profound reflections of a nation of people, which sees their vote as merely the diesel fuelling the false legitimacy of a corrupt government. This time they refused to let their energy power a repressive vehicle, knowing full well that the election was rigged. Instead they burned their energy fueling discontent and public unrest.

Many independent surveys showed either Mahmoud Ahmadinejad or Mir-Hossein Mousavi winning by a very slight margin. When the results of the election were unveiled on June 13th, the world learned that Ahmadinejad defeated Mousavi 62.63% to 33.75% (according to the Iranian government). So why would the outspoken supporter of Ahmadinejad and Supreme Leader of Iran Aytollah Ali Khomenei rig the final results? It’s simple really. The most obvious answer would be that Khomenei and Ahmadinejad did not want to risk a run-off, which was the expected result of the election. Turning the vote difference into a landslide was an adhesive attempting to cover the cracks in Iranian society. It is impossible to know if Ahmadinejad and Khomeini foresaw the mass protest, but one thing is for sure; the results were tampered with.

Ahmadinejad called Mousavi supporters a “minority of twigs and mote” and compared them to the disgruntled losing end of a football (soccer) match. On the day after the election, a few hundred Ahmadinejad and Mousavi supporters formed ranks outside Ministry of the Interior. They drew their oratory battle lines and began chanting, as the police filled the crevice between them. Then, out of nowhere, the police charged at the Mousavi supporters and began beating them with batons. Who are the football hooligans again?

The Western press might focus on an Iranian “dissent into chaos”, but in reality a huge percentage of Iran supports the outcome of the election, which is blatantly shown by the 20,000 Ahmadinejad supporters, who crammed into Tehran’s Vah Asr Square to celebrate the President’s victory. I don’t mean to say that most of Iran is content with the current government, but it is important to understand that division in Iranian society.

Like is often true with international relations, the United States and the West are not entirely innocent when it comes to Iran. Up until the Iranian Revolution, Britain and the U.S. were receiving huge oil contracts with Iran in exchange for supporting the Shah. From that point on, Iran has had a shaky relationship with the West and rightly so. The only positive outcome of this election is that Khomenei will be a lot more willing to strengthen American-Iranian relations with Ahmadinejad at the helm. President Obama was very careful when he addressed the Iranian people after the elections. He made sure not to provoke Ahmadinejad and Khomenei into a nationalistic defense, which they have used in the past. Britain, on the other hand, hasn’t been as lucky when it comes to Iranian relations. On June 23rd , Iran expelled two British diplomats on the grounds of being involved in “activities inconsistent with their diplomatic status.” Then on June 27th, Iranian officials arrested British embassy staff in Tehran, who were accused of having a “considerable role” in the electoral unrest. It is reasonable to assume that the Iranian government is using these accusations and expulsions in order to counteract the pro-Western sentiment and election protests. The current Iranian regime knows that Iran’s social spectrum is changing and blames the West for what is perceived as negative alternations.

Khomeini described Ahmadinejad’s reelection as a “divine assessment”. The assessment was about as divine as a bouncer rejecting someone who waited hours to enter a club. Mousavi responded by calling the outcome “a dangerous charade”. Thousands upon thousands of Iranians stood against authority in order to protest Mousavi’s well-deserved entry. The question is: where does Iran go from here? Ahmadinejad has made it clear that Iran will no longer tolerate protesters. Iranians have shown their resourcefulness in spreading their opinion and communicating organized protest. Even in the darkness of the post-election telecommunications and Internet blackout, Mousavi supporters battled censorship, organizing marches and rallies by word of mouth. For the first time since the Islamic revolution, people were willing to put their lives on the line to protest a cause they believed would positively alter their nation’s future.

I See Gomorrah's Reflection In Your Eyes

I See Gomorrah’s Reflection In Your Eyes

I’m just a hermit crab
Side stepping on the ocean floor
Dank and dark and deprived
Of anything that can lead to the brighter side

My shell doesn’t protect me from natural foes
It merely shields others from the torture I fail to hide
So they don’t turn to salt
Glaring at my soul waving good-bye

I know a girl who doesn’t look me in the eyes
Where God-given color meets Satan’s sight
I remember when my hair used to veil Black Holes
While the world stereotyped another sad boy

There’s no fire escape for the smoke in my lungs
There’s only a ladder with a few missing rungs
A derelict descent into an alley’s mouth
Littered by trash from that epoch long past

If only my misplaced faith didn’t lead me astray
I might not have a sick lie in my laugh today
If only there was meaning to this machine
We wouldn’t all quote the grease’s sheen
If only there was truly an omniscient call
I probably wouldn’t have crashed at all
If only there wasn’t a flaw in the design
Our pumpkins wouldn’t rot from the inside

“If onlys” are cheaper than manufactured teens
Whose heads pop off with puppeteer ease
Hey!
At least they’re dyed lean
After they careen loose support beams
And tabloids
They fall to their knees
Admiring the fleet’s uniform squeak
We sail into the monotonous shallow sea
Laughing all the way into the bank’s beach
Then we slowly…
Read it and weep

Twinkle, twinkle little star
If only Grandpa Clock didn’t forget it all
This mind of mine can’t control the tides
I’m just too sunken to squeeze Ra’s lime