And what if I don’t want happiness?
What if purpose, is my calling?
Would I be less joyful,
if meaning and contentment are my aspirations?
If ever a delusion remains,
fed in all its rabid gluttony,
it’s this appetite and scavenging for happiness.
We scathe, like drug fixed fiends,
like un-sacred things.
Selling our identity,
cheap whores for mundane,
and temporary thrills.
Poetry is how I repent,
am the greatest sinner.
I’m aware of where inspiration comes from,
there is a price to pay for everything,
and I’m driven mad,
with accounting myself.
The greater the urge to rid myself of fodder,
the easier the pen flows.
The decision to be drowning in prose,
means you also exorcise your demons relentlessly.
Painting by Hossein Irandoust Moghadam
I adore your poise,
your pose, and your noise,
that is, your lack thereof.
How orchestral is your quiet,
majestic is your silence,
this deafening and drumming of nothing at once,
this wonderful humming of quiet and calm.
I’m mad I say, deeply mad,
obsessed with ears that listen,
and a mouth that’s mute.
The beautiful picture is by Hossein Irandoust
Perhaps once upon a time my soul met his in this abyss of pre-world obedience and silence.
I’m infatuated by his work to say the least.
If your spasm to do,
is not stronger,
than your spasm to speak,
or even think,
then you are involuntarily living.
You’re merely a collection of material markers,
your spirit, has not been tamed enough,
to learn the wisdom of temperament,
and the power that comes with serving,
nor the control that falls into your hands.
But manhood has been washed away,
into the abyss of in-definition,
to appease the lazy.
Your affinity to help,
must be stronger than your affinity to judge,
using ones hands or other abilities,
should be at the battlefront,
as opposed to looking from afar.
-Wesam El dahabi
All beautiful things are concealed well.
Pearls, diamonds, sages, gnostics and my favourite;
artists and writers who only become apparent when they pass.
If you think you’re going to arrive,
at beauty without a struggle,
wisdom and truth without suffering,
peace without a war inside of you,
if you think you’re entitled to it all by default,
just for existing,
then you’re deluded,
and deserve to be barred from it.
Do the work and be patient.
-Wesam El dahabi
Amazing pieces by Hossein Irandoust
The imagination loathes being held captive by an abacus,
and yet there they are,
meting out their vengeance on one another,
my soul, in the crossfire,
my ego, the coward who won’t come out from cover.