Crisis Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Crisis

She called me;
-mean Bernie.

When reading my writing:
- "Am tired of this life…
-please leave me alone…
-if not be kind and send
-a rope, so, can hang me."

She acted like the maid
-in Rumi's mystical story:
- "Maid copied her master,
-and had sex with donkey …"

Returned the wealthy-rich
-seeking maid, kept calling.
-Neither heard nor could see…

Finally, when found her
-the woman was injured,
-in blood; motionless...

Her lady laughed loudly:
- "You who saw donkey's dick,
-did not see large pumpkin…? "

The same is with Bernie;
-and other nine-fivers…
-who work like ants and bees
-with friends and colleagues.
-They mimic leith, robots
-installed in factories;
-as shown by Charles Chaplin.

They are tools and wrenches
-arms and legs, not brains …
-obeying, nothing else…

Bernie-likes are trained:
-to report crisis…
-See pumpkin? No, never!