Sunday, May 29, 2011

Somewhere on the Horizon!

As long as you are there, somewhere on the horizon,
far, but there,
I can be!

I know you are there somewhere,
for the faces that have passed you,
have a touch of happiness on them!

I know you are there,
for the swallows that curve the light between us,
have a dance of joy in their wings;
I know they have seen you on the horizon!

I know you are there, somewhere hidden on the horizon,
for the air is smoother on my lungs!

I know you are there,
even if far,
even if I don’t see you,

I know you are there, somewhere on the horizon,
that is how I can be!

Thursday, May 26, 2011

On Writing In General - I

I like to write to make things less ambiguous; to bring unclear thoughts to a clearer filed; to a more concrete grounds. But I often fail. I figured writing does not make thoughts clearer. It does something, but that something is not of a revealing nature.

I like to write to make things more concrete, more frozen in time, to bring thoughts out there. And I think writing does that. While it does not necessarily make things, thoughts, and issues clearer, it does make them concrete. Writing records thoughts and in this freezing act a certain train of thought is concertized in time. This makes writing a more reassuring act than unwritten words; the history becomes more touchable due to writing.

I feel lighter when I write the melancholy of my thoughts. In writing I find safety.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Lusty Light Ash

As the wind takes the ashes away from me,
I wonder how many more cigarettes should be lit to break us free of our mass-memory;
As the wind takes the ashes away from me,
I wonder how to be part of the ash, part of the wind;
As the wind takes the ashes away from me,
I wonder how to turn our dusty mass-memory to my lusty light ash!

Monday, May 23, 2011

The Time of Collapse!

The time of collapse is not only the deterioration of a mass,
the time of collapse is not only the falling apart of a body of flesh,
the time of collapse is not only the falling apart of connections,
the time of collapse is the cement under your feet coming at you,
the time of collapse is the stairs flying downwards and upwards,
the time of collapse is the blood and the ideas evaporating all together,

I collapsed!

Never Forget!

The three things that should not be forgotten:

One: The bitterness is not in the wrestling of ideas. It comes afterward, when you are left alone with your ideas!

Two: If you enjoy the match and not the win, don't even give the impression of a winner; you will end up opponent-less!

Three: Even the "Existentialist Hope" drains your human energy, and if you are hesitant to use your animal side, remain a hardcore pessimist for even dreaming is forbidden in this world!

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Wish The Sun!

In the cold misty moment, before the sun warms the leaves,
In the slow motion of turtles in the crowded pond,
In the misplaced wild berry bush on the edge of the trail,
There is a phase filled with absence,
a phase out of place,
a timeless phase, which makes me wish the sun!

Thursday, May 19, 2011

A Life of A Green Ribbon

I arrived at your smiling faces and I tried to hide my dancing cells; they have been in this melodious suspense for 13 days now. Some normal greetings and some joyful gossips and then I revealed the melody of my dancing cells and you went curious, cautious, and then content with my melody. How happy we were; genuinely happy and how much I miss this true feeling of happiness in my life.

In the haze of smoke and spirit I noticed this delicate green ribbon tied around the umbrella pole on our table. I glanced at it and said “Nice!” You got me right away, saying, “Ya! One of those things you would do!”

You were right; I very well may do this kind of things; adding little pieces of what I think is “prettiness” here and there, especially when it is green.

We talked and talked. Some drops of rain panicked us to open our umbrella shade. An hour has passed and I could not take my eyes away from the green ribbon cuddling the umbrella pole. The thin shred of green ribbon has one clean-cut end and one rough end. I saw how it could have been hugging a small square box before, for the edges of this imaginary box had imprinted their mark on the delicate ribbon. I took my time imagining the life a ribbon, which has gone unnoticed by many, but not to our overly awake Iranian consciousness; to us it grew, for it was green!

How long the ribbon was tied around that umbrella pole, I do not know. But it was long enough for it to loosen its grip around the pole. And while I am thinking of refastening it, your hands opened the ribbon up and tied a neat bow around the pole. You know me well; now the umbrella pole won’t have a lonely night for the delicate green ribbon is hugging it so tight.

When we were leaving, I just wondered if we see them together the next time we sit on that bench.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Time Stops!

The tragic sound of time passing through me,
triggers the shock of silence,
when the time stops,
for you are here!

Friday, May 13, 2011

Turned Off The White!

Rushed out,
rushed in,
I froze at my own image.

The lies in my life,
and the truth in the mirror; my inside-out blouse!

In the endless battle of mirror and me,
I sensed the serene scent of harmony.

The inescapable truth of the moment, trembled at my destructive touch;
I turned off the white of my inside-out blouse, and melted away!

Monday, May 09, 2011


Like a cold drop of water rolling down the skin of my back, this new sensation is ticklishly refreshing.

*Just the thought of B.M.

Gravediggers of the Present!

In his text, On the Advantage & Disadvantage of History for Life, (1874) Nietzsche addressed the task of human existence, what he called, the task of living, in appropriation of history or better say in the relationship between life and historical knowledge. The quest for truth is also part of the task of existing. The values of this quest for the truth, like any other human related task, is intertwined with the nature of human existence. Now the question is what if some knowledge, some truth, proves harmful and deadly? What if in regard to some truth we are faced with this dilemma; know the truth and die or live and continue in error. Nietzsche recognized this dilemma and argued that given the choice between life and knowledge/truth there is no question about which we ought to choose; any knowledge which destroys life destroys itself, for knowledge presupposes life.

From the same text I have somewhat of a long excerpt, which I strongly recommend you to read. What interests me in this text is the complicated position that man has in regard to the truth(s); it is not as simple as the representation of many thinkers before and after Nietzsche on the matter.

"All acting requires forgetting, as not only light but also darkness is required for life by all organisms. A man who wants to feel everything historically would resemble someone forced to refrain from sleeping, or an animal expected to live only from ruminating and ever repeated ruminating. So: it is possible to live with almost no memories, even to live happily as the animal* shows; but without forgetting it is quiet impossible to live at all. Or to say it more simply yet: there is a degree of insomnia, of rumination, of historical sense which injures every living thing and finally destroys it, be it a man, a people, or a culture.

To determine this degree, and through it the limit beyond which the past must be forgotten if it is not to become the gravedigger of the present, one would have to know precisely how great the plastic power of a man, a people or a culture is. I mean the power distinctively to grow out of itself, transforming and assimilating everything past and alien, to heal wounds, replace what is lost and reshape broken forms out of itself. There are men who have this power to so small a degree that they will incurably bleed to death over a single experience, a single pain, frequently over a single delicate injustice, as from a quite a small bleeding laceration. On the other hand there are those who are affected so little by the wildest and most gruesome calamities of life and even by their own malicious acts, that in midst of them or shortly thereafter they achieve a tolerable degree of well being and a kind of clear conscience.* [...] What such a nature* cannot master, is how to forget; it no longer exists, the horizon is closed and whole, and nothing can serve as a reminder that beyond this horizon there remain men, passions, doctrines and purposes. And this is a general law: every living thing can become healthy, strong and fruitful only with in a horizon; if it is incapable of drawing a horizon around itself or, on the other hand, too selfish to restrict its vision to the limits of the horizon drawn by another, it will wither away feebly or over-hastily to its early demise.

Cheerfulness, clear conscious, the carefree deed, faith in the future, all this depends, in the case of an individual as well as of people, on there being a line which distinguishes what is clear and in full view from the dark and unilluminable; it depends on one's being able to forget at the right time as well as to remember at the right time; on discerning with strong instinctual feelings when there is need to experience historically and when unhistorically. Precisely this is the position the reader is invited to consider: the unhistorical and historical are equally necessary for the health of an individual, a people, and a culture."*

* Light and dark being a metaphor for remembering and forgetting.
*Animals not having the sense of history (past, and future.)
* Please note that in this argument Nietzsche is not praising "a kind of clear conscience." Nietzsche has been misinterpreted many times by his future readers, and some times these misinterpretations resulted in horrible events.
*Those who are affected little by wildest calamities of life.
*Translated by Peter Preuss, 1980.

Sunday, May 01, 2011

Fruit of Your Labor!

Happy May Day!
Happy International Workers' Day!
To those whose tireless mental and physical labor is turning the gears of progress,
To the brave Iranian workers and teachers,
I hope for a day that the fruit of your labor can be harvested freely!

HARVEST, Malevich, 1912

PS. To my extraordinary parents, Happy Anniversary!