Unmarked graves
On the walls, in La Paz
-one can see murals…
Portraits reveal, talk…
Rich, they are in colours
-the life's dots, connected…
Connected, they make lines
-to speak, even shout…
-at priests and the kings
-whatever Europe did!
Four Westerns ride horses
-heading four directions
-with Tupac tied to them
-by the fists and ankles.
Alive he, and beaten
-to be pulled in four ways,
-north and south, east and west.
Strokes of brush
-each, every line drawn
-is a painful lecture:
- "This is work of the church
-and the popes, their agents…
-in the name of Jesus! "
Plenty are churches
-many are preachers.
They read and explain
-how crossed was Jesus.
The words are soft, sweet
-in flowers breeze.
Blossoms kindness and
-love, giving, forgiveness
-but in hearts are serpents!
"Damn you all, hypocrites! "
"Damn you all, hypocrites! "
"Damn you all, hypocrites! "
Preachers of all faiths
-are nothing but liars.
Sweet words, milk-honey
-in secret, they do else! ! !
In hiding, most of rapes
-same-sex and underage,
-to them are related…
They handle the tortures
-and approve the murders
-see Lima's museum!
Jesus and before him
-in every history
-are ballooned to fool us.
Then after until now
-all the saints, any kind
-to halos of Allah
-were the work of London;
-but today, in White House!
"Damn all the hypocrites! "
Why can't I be free?
Why am tied to this?
Why am I hypnotised?
Why living behind walls?
Why powerless and numb?
Why am I?
Why am I?
Am tired of the lies;
-feel stench, nausea
-with odour of swamp!
All churches, all the mosques
-each, every faith's shrines
-takes me to Lenin's word:
- "Religions are opium! "
Do not want to believe…
I have read between lines
-lot is there to be found
-the good deed from faiths;
-those deserve our respect…
It is hard to judge and
-be honest to all sides.
Why Tupac was crossed?
Why was he cut to parts?
Was he first or the last?
What about Ahmad Shah?
-who ordered: "Tie them up, "
-wanted heads stepped on
-by huge elephants
-and be pushed till they burst!
What about Agha-khan?
-the founder of Qajar
-ordering: "Catch Prince,
-set crown on his head
-and fill with boiling lead!
What about Nader Shah?
-blinding his own son
-with heated metal rod…
What about that Tsar?
-Peter who made Russia
-kept his son in the jail
- (in today's Peter-Paul)
-on the banks of Neva;
- (Was son a criminal? !)
Why can't I be free?
Why am tied to this?
Why am I hypnotised?
Why living behind walls?
Why powerless and numb?
Must open eyes, observe
-murals, like mirrors
-as advised the poet.
-looking at Mada'in:
- "This rubble was palace
-to kings, and ministers…"
Am ashamed!
Am ashamed!
Am ashamed;
-feel stench, nausea,
-and odour, of swamps.
But I am in shackles
-feel being the rooster
-with his head severed
-hanging to side of neck:
- "Am alive, " pretend.
-The rainbow of colours
-is blood; around bird!
Love and hate the leaders
-like Jesus and Hussein.
It depends on time, mood;
-reading in anger, peace,
-with priests? Without them?
Why can't I be free?
Why am tied to this?
Why am I hypnotised?
Why living behind walls?
Why powerless and numb?
Why am I? Why am I?
In times find suicide
-to be a remedy or an art…
Why not see everything
-of Jesus and his time?
He was on the cross
-in day time; sun, bright …
But flew to skies
-when arrived dark of night;
-same wasn't for Tupac!
Christians kept him there
-for many, many days
-and cut him to pieces;
-each part was messenger:
- "Let this be your lesson! "
The same was in Turkey
-Saudi's Embassy…
-by the men who danced with
- "Golden Hair, " mean Yankee
- (dominant in White House,
-killer of the-not-us…)
Am tired of cross
-rows, masses of cross
-supporting the wrong ones.
If ever was Jesus
- (soft and kind as he was)
-I would be embarrassed
-would commit suicide…
Politics of White House
-and cruel of Riyadh
-and corrupts in Tehran
-and the thieves in Moscow
-all around to London
-and Paris to Warsaw
-make graves; all unmarked!
Each of them is alike
-to paintings in La Paz…
In La Paz, I stood
-handing them a brush
-proudly, since I wanted
-to rebel through lines
-voicelessly but shout loud.
Here, am tired of
-the polite jar of lies!
-Am kept in prison
-huge jail without walls.
In limbo and pending
-impatient, am waiting
-for the right to reveal
- (a dream in dream…)
Hours, days, and to months
-came and come, will be gone
-and we are on cross.
-We suffer injustice
-of cruel in White House
-and Riyadh and Tehran
-and Peking to Moscow,
-to Paris and Warsaw
- (Power makes dictators!)
All of them are the same
-are nothing but B-S…
Poor people are victims
-are the lambs and chickens
- killed, murdered, innocent.
-In their hands Media
-enlarge the ISIS and Taliban.
-What about Guevara?
-Bin Laden and his like?
-What about orange wears
-in Ghraib, and Bagram?
-Guantanamo, Cuba?
In La Paz, by the wall
-I watched and was polite,
-helped them and gave brush.
Cuffed my hands, behind bars
-was blamed with their false;
-lost my rights and permits
-for fighting and moving.
-See rude-means in paintings,
-drawn by those artists…
I, too, am a member,
-of the sinless-tortured.
Now, recalling bad times
-read and write and cry…
Am ashamed!
Am ashamed!
Feel stench, nausea
-odour of bad swamp!
But I am in shackles
-feel being the rooster
-with his head severed
-hanging to side of neck:
- "Am alive, " pretend.
-The rainbow of colours
-is blood; around bird!
Why can't I be free?
Why am tied to this?
Why am I hypnotised?
Why living behind walls?
Why powerless and numb?
Why am I?
Why am I?
Why am I forced in jar?
Why in zip: "Shut you mouth? "
Better dead with pride
-than being shit in bowl
-of diamond, crystal.
I wait for the right time.
Must find the right ground.
Lost I am among the
-when and how?
-where and how?
I need to free me
-from these welded bonds
-even if just as ghost, spirit.
I must shout, and will so:
- "Damn with the hypocrites! "
- "Damn with all the rulers! "
- "Hell, with you, burning hell! "
- "F…you all, what a F…! "
I have been a victim
-so, have seen and witnessed
-innocents being killed…
The recent example
-is case of Khashoggi.
Killed in an embassy
-and melted in acid…?
The White House supported
-brutal murder…
-and mosques and the churches
-shut their mouths, are silent!
- "F…you all, what a F…! "
I cannot forget the
-loss of my good friend
-he who was shot in head
-by guard of "Revolution? "
- "F…you all, what a F…! "
Took him to graveyard
-angry was I, wild,
-therefore, went for a walk;
-in Zahra's Paradise!
Saw plot was plowed
-as if was farm-ground
-but was rush-burial's!
What was it, Islamic?
Or sort of politics?
Is it not injustice?
And you want my silence?
"F…you all, what a F…! "
Daydreams are always,
-as bad as are nightmares,
-see Ebi who was shot
-between his eyebrows
-by the Islamic Guards!
I went in flight-suit
-seeking him and nurse said:
- "Was here and is moved! "
- "…and can be buried in…"
I followed the case and
-hopped place to place…
-tracked him to the end.
I found him in right time
-right before ending in
- ‘a grave but unmarked! '
Rushed to phone and made call
-heard Mansoor on other side,
-he was an old friend, a Major…
-and head of ‘Personnel! '
We removed the martyr
-to new, right place
- (morgue belonged to Air-Force
-then buried with respect…)
I lifted the cover
-to make sure he was dead.
In the palm of my hand
-still feel his brain…
Daydreams are always,
-as bad as are nightmares,
-see Ebi who was shot
-between his eyebrows
-by the Islamic Guards!
Had to be an actor
-when facing his mother
-who wanted a last look…
How could I tell her of…?
What could I tell her of…?
Forced I was in a jar
-had to talk in cheek tongue;
-heart's logic demanded:
- "Keep silence and shut up! "
"F…you all, governments…! "
"F…you all, one by one…! "
"F…you all in White House! "
"F…even the late Shah! "
"F…all of dynasties,
-emperors and the kings,
-to the sheikhs and Emirs,
-and Tsars, the bandits…"
In Chaco, saw as well
-many unmarked graves
-the dead were mass, thousands
-bones are found, here, there…
Rockefeller's oil and Shell
- (these Jesus followers)
-just for oil, killed thousands!
How can I be silent?
How can I bear the pain?
How can I close eyes?
These graves with no mark
-take me to Balkh, Afghans…
Better dead with pride
-than being shit in bowl.
Must go out to shout loud:
"Damn you all, hypocrites! "
"Governments, F…you all! "
I went and visited
-where US government
-had thrown corps of Che
-in airport, and by junks…
They forced him to shut up!
He wasn't only one…
Must go out to shout loud:
"Damn you all, hypocrites! "
"Governments, F…you all! "
Or maybe should become
-the poet, named "Oryan; "
-make dagger or a knife
-to slash both my eyes…
-free me from pains
-lot is lost to blind! ! !
Such a life?
For how long?
Let's look at Wikileaks
-and US injustice…
-toward the Assange
-who risked life to shed light
-now being a "Wanted? "
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem