Mohammad Reza Dousti, 10 listopada 2011
She wants me to sing a song for her flight
But I opened a new fixing page, a new commenting box
She flies from my side, she climbs to reach the light
Suddenly she burns and she falls down to my run
I say to her, it’s a fake which you are dreaming
She says back I am a butterfly, you are a human being
In the void air of the room, I shake my hands
She is still flying, she denies my disturbance
They are two, rounding the light in a wedding style
I am down, watching how happy they look like
But I’m a human, I can’t know how does it feel
I’m a human, a human is a fake best from creative.
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Mohammad Reza Dousti, 10 listopada 2011
To whom it may concern
Here is the letter from a young boy, an old heart. We are so alone and homesick. We need hot water to make a coffee and lighter to smoke. We are taciturn, every day we meet a lot of young girls who are so beautiful, so desirable and charmer, but there is no right, or to better say, we do not dare to suggest them a friendly lunch, neither anything more. We are so close to papers, we are so close to screen. We wake up early at morning and sleep too late at midnight. We dream nightmares which are from our history of fears and hopelessness. We are from a country with no peace, from a planet with no intimate, from a womb which was violated. We are from a God who never helps us, we are actors in a live non-schedule TV series. We are finally who searches for someone who may concern us. We are in the letters, in the room, in the jails, in the moms, in the graves and we are superstars of a porn cine. We used to be diehard, we are poor and we are deceived goats.
Hopeless of finding the savior
All who may think are from this wing.
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Mohammad Reza Dousti, 6 listopada 2011
I’m away, where the smokes are going
I am in a dense air of doubts, where the way is grey
We are all waiting for the faster wind, I am so late
I exhale the words of grace, it appears rubble.
I’m away of understanding the mean of the rain
I swear more and more, where is the green, where is the red?
We are all waiting for the wind to spread the semen
We are all wearing our bridal coats, but I cannot date a woman.
I exhale the molten words, earth shakes and sun freezes
God sends me a sword to battle the lord of grayscales
I do remember how beauty rainbow was
My painting notebook is bind to the history book of the art.
But she said: you are the only man with this unique power
And she wants me to forget the God, and let be disappeared colors.
Between this and that, between the peace and the past
I’m the only stable man to keep the doubt to attack.
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Mohammad Reza Dousti, 14 października 2011
Some intolerants,
I love everybody as God does
Rreply my hello once.
I’m not supposed to be like HIM
I’ll be right like he need.
Listen to me,
How fair is your Creative?
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