On My Wall Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

On my wall

It is hard to have seen
And be forced: "Act blind! "

It is hard to have heard
And be told: "Act as deaf! "

It is hard to have been
Yet ordered to shut up.

It is hard!
It is hard!
It is hard!

I watched the ABC
One among the TVs.

They run shows
For you, me,
And amuse,
Mostly fool,
Brainwash
For commerce…

Two women on death row
Are in jail named: "Lowell, "
(Centre for Correction!

Both are young,
Convicted for crime
Of murder, taking lives!

They did with boyfriends…

To me, their stories
Are written on the wall.

Walk by them
And see them,
Every day
And each night,
I have them registered.

I was there,
Was in jail,
Kept in cell
And deprived.

As expert
Like Malcolm
Became X…

My notebooks are many,
Far over hundred…

Many names are mentioned,
Of needy, and helpless,
Of ignored and oppressed
By the game players
As rulers and lawyers
And mullahs as leaders
And police and Pasdar
Of path of God, Allah…

For near three years
I lived with criminals
They opened inside out.

Shook hands of vampires
And greedy, lovers,
Escapees, immigrants,
And money launderers.

Many were innocent
Like drug carrier
In front and or rear…

They did so to fill mouths
Of the kids, husband, wife.

It is hard!
It is hard!
It is hard!
I read, taught,
Feel being a Malcolm!