On Last Day Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Story is simple, as they think and they say
'On last day...'
To me, sounds stupid, it is dumb out of line
'On last day...'
I ponder on the last, on the day, and final
When he was exhausted, no way out
But his way
Just one way... 'Kill; be killed'
That was end...
He had gun
How and why?
Not easy the answers though simple
He had reached to his end
Life meant death
'Do something...stand up...take some lives, give a life'
He had heard.
Whom from and what for?
Never asked
He reviewed the past days:
'What is life, who are these, crazy my parents, and the police.'
We have seen and have read: 'The changes, renaissance'
We hardly have dug in: 'How they lived? '
‘Avant-garde' is so called ‘dear love'.
But in fact no member had good life.
The same with Ezra Pound
This is fact of the life for new and the wild; resisting old style.
Yes I mourn for the dead
Sure; of course!
But also I am sad
This is all fast judgment
Judging book by cover is mistake
These reports are all wrong
'On last day...'
And if not
They are rush
Bad judgment
Open book of his life and read all.
Dig in deep from birth to his death.