￼ 108 Workers Life Raise that black chai high! Serchevan! Nine hours of fire later and for now the tea is now gone. A flat land of wheat and Masood is where I start. I can read the human heart, I can take over crowds with no mike. Kurdish, Assyrian, Arab alike. I was trained to fire from a dirt bike. At close range into enemy face not vest, You cannot run from an airstrike. We’re doing our best. The terror, the horror is rife, And you know I’m all about that struggle person life. And you know I’m living … Continue reading Abu Hamsa, 108#
#36 Her Bright Eyes Tell Men Lies _The longest road to nowhere is not a distance travelled, But a speculation on hopeless amounts of flesh, Under garments torn in heat of passion_unfastened, ripped Unraveled. _And her bright eyes told men lies_ Catch note of lusty thinking in her steamy alibies_ Parabelem allegory_ Omissions how she tells a story_ She left me crumpled like her panties-panting-purgatory As a foot note to her foot upon my spine. “I don’t need you, you need me.” “Don’t think I can set you free, you are my poem spouting puppy, And now you are performing; … Continue reading Her Bright Eyes told Men Lies (36#)
#05 Champaign the Friend of Cigarettes Written for Daria Maccluskey 12/05/12 How do you cope with a newly broken heart? For the best way to get over on a man, is under another man, she told me. I’ll tell you how to make tovarish me¸ happy. First, we have to make art constantly. Found art; forged art, undressed art; lewd, crude and out of control; art. It doesn’t have to be pretty or even rhyme really; But we have to make it together somehow. Second, you have to sing for me; freedom songs; … Continue reading Champagne Friend of Cigerettes (05#)
Chapter 6 “Don’t listen to the words I say, the screams all sound the same, though the truth may vary our ship will carry our bodies safe to shore,” she hums the Monsters and Men. The boat ride to shore through sloshing blue black waters carrying their clandestine squad of four had gone off much more seamlessly copasetic than McIntosh had feared, who being West Indian did not know how to swim. So after the submarine ride which had to round the Cape Horn and run both tropics twice to reach its drop off point undedicated by … Continue reading Partizan Song, Chapter 6
#33 _And who can really know, how far a man must go_ To take her away from Brooklyn. Listen, my dorogaia! My so-called tovarish in a yellow cock tail dress! The-dame-was-so dear to me, somehow-so-quickly; That just one night turned into a four month chase across the fall. When I told her later that I loved her. She shot back from the hip, at the Steeplechase pier, “Do you think yourself a jealous man?” If I now get accused of poor decision making, The moon blindsided me, the vodka made me pliable, and for a former Soviet she gave more … Continue reading Listen Dorogaia-33
SCENE 8 “The USSR Was the Sun” Reads Carla Santiestiban, jet black hair and petite. Vaguely malnourished for a Cuban, but still attractive and dynamic. She is and always will be a member of the Committees for Defense of the Revolution. The vigilant internal defense against Yankee imperialist aggression and unrestrained, insatiable sex tourism. The U.S.S.R. was the sun and we were just a proud and tiny fortress; that when the sun went out, when we lost our greatest, sturdiest ally; we would be in the dark and there were many things in the dark that could ruin us. There … Continue reading HAMSA, 8.
SCENE 3 18 July, 2017 ERBIL, Iraq “The War Room” I was watching the news from the safe house, then the power went out. They lose power in Erbil for around 4 to 8 hours a day. The news was bad, well the news is always bad when it comes to the Middle East. They’re killing Palestinians in Jerusalem again for the third day straight over metal detectors near the Dome of the Rock. Syria is completely on fire; the Russians are making slow, and decimating progress. Iran is fighting Saudi Arabia in Yemen. Iraq is on fire, the Americans … Continue reading HAMSA, Chp. 3