IDIOT

I’m the life of a shadow, the shadow of despair, Made a life inspired by hell and “it ain’t fair,” On the corpse of my hopes, rotten roots, lethal pride, Rapping rolling rocking, on the bed of

Cyrus, every night. I tell Cyrus: “take a nap, I am up,” Cyrus peeks from the breach of his coffin, Then he cries: “I am burning, help me, god!” Jeez, Cyrus, what the fuck? (I look admonishing).

I chill the temperature, by the cold gaze I share, every day; in metro, taxi, a rusty bus, While walking, crawling, howling, and running, To the park, with a bud, buy a drug; to the dorm, runny walk, cheap weed, in a suck, yuck! It smells like yuck! and works like yuck! and feeds us up, with one more puff, a big fat puff. We then laugh a little, cry a little, nag a little, nothing a bit, less a little, then go to sleep. Wake up! erected, go to college, meet some ugly make-uped girls who deep down I want to piss on, But I’m rejected continually by the whores

of Babylon. (I’m the oldest wrinkly cock of Persia) But I keep on, the same bullshit again, over again, over again, Till I get graduated, with a “U-stupid” degree, that I can marry or call a bitch, But never a dick, to fuck a job with. (“behave yourself”, Cyrus says) Sorry, I’m pissed.

Shit shit, popped up, my girlfriend’s knocked up. Other dudes fucked her too, but I showed up with her, so shut up. (Cyrus laughs) now her brothers and cousins are coming to kill me. She was a saint, apparently, keenly, Sewing her virginity clit to butt, while repenting to a funky god.

I'm shocked like “oh my, what the, oh my, what the, oh my, what the Fud.” Got a fetus, in the belly of a slut, no money, no future, no job, Puke on my heart, spit in my cup, Hurt, drunk; Sitting, by the university, pissing, Freely, where ever I want, kidding With professor Benjy, master of 17th century, “duck, yo, don’t be care-free?” “You’ll trouble thyself,” says he. Well maybe, shall the spirit of doom save me, loves me she so firmly. He didn’t piss back and escaped me. (Cyrus shocked, like!!!!) Then I sermoned scholars: I ejaculate knowledge, now I'm magic, grand witch, and y’all my academic whores, I ride pain on you so you ride pen on them, I’m the prophet of beat, I’m a scar, And like a mirror, I will break” (Zarathustra listens interestingly while smoking opium)

now, I walk my desperate feet, on the lonely street, Give a trash seeker a smoke, who weeps in need of dope, To spare the night and nightmare his plight. he dreams the light.

Oh light! Lying light, Moloch, murky, monster light… The light ghosts me and ghosts me and ghosts me, I keep chasing and chasing and chasing. Till I weary, then I tell me: “Pause, Realize,

You’re the shadow of nothing…” Yes. I am nothing, jaded, a ghosty shadowy nothing, faded, Waiting on the edge of a cliff, Looking into the abyss, naked.

Poetry Shahriar Danesh

Mashad, Khorasan Razavi, Iran